


The Collision Principle

by MadamMortis



Series: The Collision Principle [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Blood and Violence, Developing Friendships, Drug Addiction, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Friendship/Love, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Graphic Description, Humor, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, Past Child Abuse, Psychological Drama, Random Relationships, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Assault, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, alcohol use, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-25 07:19:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 802,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6185644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamMortis/pseuds/MadamMortis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When two objects come crashing together, an indelible mark is left behind in their wake. Though the event itself lasts barely seconds, the fallout can never be forgotten.</p><p>Ten years ago, John Hancock became the mayor of Goodneighbor, having violently usurped his unworthy predecessor in a blood drenched coup. He is steadfast in his conviction to stand guard over the town and to protect the people from judgment, victimization and oppression. He is a man beyond fear of reproach or death and uncaring if the latter should call for him.</p><p>Two-hundred and ten years ago, Evelyn Hallows and her family were cryogenically frozen, deep in the bowels of Vault 111. Upon awakening, Eve witnesses the violent death of her husband and the kidnapping of her infant son. With no other course of action to consider, she sets out into a damaged and dangerous world; vastly different to the one she left behind, determined to find her child. </p><p>Paths cross for most. For others; they converge. And the results of these collisions alter all who are swept up in it, leaving not a one unaffected by the changes that follow.</p><p>Hancock/Female Sole Survivor story predominately, including a number of other random romances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fallout 4 or any of the characters of its franchise. Except for my little POP figurine of Hancock that sits on my bedside table and is a living affront to my husband. But screw him, he's sleeping with everything that has a semblance of a pulse in his play through, so what the heck have I got to feel sorry about? Oops, sorry about that, moving on...  
> A/N: The Prologue of this story is a little different to the chapters that follow and I almost didn't write it until I heard a great piece of music that got me pumped up the other day and the horrible scene below came to mind. Much like Hancock himself, you should always introduce yourself like a total bad ass: by stabbing some bitch to death in front of people you just met.  
> To be temporarily serious; this story will obviously contain spoilers, so if you have not finished the game I suggest that you do not read it until you have done so. Also, I aim to tell a story with as little censoring as possible, meaning that I incorporate some very mature themes without much apology for doing so. Some of these themes can of course act as a trigger and invoke some distressing emotions. Please keep this in mind and if you find that you are affected by any of the subject matter, I advise you strongly to seek support or avoid reading any content that you find to be upsetting. I am actually employed as a social worker in the area of mental health and though I do not advocate my services as a professional through this medium, I encourage you to email me if you are having any thoughts or concerns directly related to the story content itself. I am happy to give advice as one person to another. Once again however, I strongly recommend professional support if this story dredges up any distressing memories or feelings.  
> That being said, I hope that this is not the case and that you simply enjoy this as an act of fiction! Now, as Codsworth would merrily advise, 'Tallyho!'

** Prologue: The Indestructible Nine **

 

 

> _"_ _He who commits injustice is ever made more wretched than he who suffers it."_ **_– Plato._ **

**~**

**_Goodneighbor - 2278 – December 24th..._ **

 

The night had been cold, he remembered. Almost bitterly so, though it had taken him some time to be made aware of it. His adrenaline had been too high; his skin flush with anticipation. The air had smelt crisp, like it always did just after the rain. The only sound had been the crickets chirruping with their merry ignorance from beyond the Eastern wall, interspersed with the drunken cackling of the even more oblivious men down below.

Water had splashed around his boots when he had landed. His ankles jarred a little and his socks had a damp ring around them from where moisture had seeped inside. The laughing had stopped abruptly. More pairs of feet struck a bitter staccato against the slick pavement around him. Perhaps a moments' hesitation... the splitting of a second. And then... remorseless penance.

He fired first, drew first blood, served first example. The shots came quickly after that; fast and concise – boom, boom, boom. The smell of smoke intermingled with the tangy damp of the night air. His ears rang and his head swum with static. "We fucking blitzed 'em, Hancock!" Someone yelled to him, their voice barely audible above the ensuing screams and spattering of bullets cutting violently through the night. He called back something supportive... at least, he was certain it had been supportive. And the killing continued.

To his right, one thug's head caved easily under Adrian Buchalter's blow, the top of his skull cracking open beneath the merciless meeting of pavement and stone. Hancock though Adrian might have lost his guts at this; the physically imposing brute of a man possessing a rather contradictory manner of sensitivity and he did indeed hesitate, upper back jerking as though he were trying to hold back his lunch. The goon was still alive, his arms jerking spasmodically and legs kicking in a desperate bid to flee that could only fail with half of his cranial matter pasting him staunchly to the ground.

Adrian had never killed anyone before, which was most likely why he had pulled his full strength at the last minute. If he had applied every ounce of his hulking muscle behind the blow, the man who was twitching helplessly like a Radroach on the ground beneath him, would have been dead instantly. Adrian clenched the blooded hunk of concrete in his hand; half of what had once been an architectural sleeper, clearly making every mental effort to finish the job off and yet finding this moral blockade difficult to hurdle.

Hancock, by comparison was merciless and though he had never killed before this night either, he had applied himself to the task with utter conviction. Vic and his boys were pitiless after all and if he and the other drifters ever hoped to see Goodneighbor into a better, more equitable future, then they needed to be just as ruthless as their foes.

"Finish him off, brother! Don't let them see you bulk!" Hancock called, turning at the last moment to see one of Vic's more resilient men come charging in at him, struggling to free his pistol from his holster. Most of the mob had been so ploughed that the work had all been but done by the time Hancock and the other rebels had dropped from the rooftops but this guy looked a hell of a lot more sober than the rest. He still dropped the same though, bending back in the middle, neck, arms and legs jerking forwards ridiculously as Hancock fired the twin barrels close range into the big hero's stomach. Over the sound of his ears ringing, Hancock dimly heard a splintering, sickly sounding crack, followed shortly by another. Adrian joined him at his side not a moment later, hands dripping with a meaty ichor, which looked almost black in the darkness of the main street. That bastard Vic had never bothered to have any of the lights repaired; one of his many failings as mayor.

Hancock looked over and met the Ghouls' eyes. Adrian's large broad shoulders were heaving, his thick jaw heavy set and massive fist clenched resolutely around the hunk of concrete that was now adorned with what had once been the unknown introspections of one of Vic's more vicious henchman. It was a fitting end for a man who had once used the butt of his rifle to smash in the face of a fellow drifter who had dared to stand up to him.

From the look on Adrian's face, Hancock knew that this was what had compelled him to finish the miserable bastard off and he gave him a small nod of approval.

"Dry your eyes," he instructed and Adrian jerked his chin back in response, using his shirt sleeve to wipe away the wetness that had pooled in the curve of his eye sockets. "They see you gettin' soft, they'll make a target of you. Don't give 'em a reason. Remember," He added, tapping the back of his fist against the big Ghoul's barrel shaped chest. "This ain't just for all of us. It's for Thomas too."

This had obviously been the right thing to say, because Adrian had then raised his head with a look of steely determination; tossing the blooded lump of concrete into the air before catching it again. The memory of the friend who could not be there with them weighed heavy on all their minds. Every drop of blood spilled in this righteous massacre was rent from flesh in his name. Every soul rendered from body was hurled into the depths of hell in his honour. Even someone as innocent as Adrian could be compelled to act in a way he might never had done when the memory of a friend's violent death sat at the forefront of his mind.

There was a choking sound from nearby; the man Hancock had shot was still kicking. Not an easy thing to accomplish after taking a point blank shot from a side by side, though Hancock felt he might have been mostly to blame for this, if not directly. Whilst training out in the Wasteland, he had developed a little technique which he thought might serve well as a scare tactic when taking out Vic's goons. Though not practical, it looked pretty badass, so long as it was executed correctly. This was, in effect, firing the double off one handed; right hand for the right barrel, left hand for the left barrel. Being ambidextrous helped, as Hancock was confident using either hand for a range of tasks but of course the recoil proved a bit of a hassle. He had worked for months to strengthen up the correct muscles in his arms, core and legs respectively, so that each could absorb the massive recoil from the gun without doing an insane amount of damage.

He had learnt very quickly that pulling off more than one shot was enough, especially in a combat situation. It was just blatant showing off and now his shoulders were going to pay for it, if he hadn't already dislocated them. Not to mention that a shotgun blast converged upon itself, so the direction of the pellet spray would disperse the further away your target was. Vic's goon had been about ten yards and if Hancock had aimed at him two handed as he was supposed to have done, the guy most likely would have been dead right away.

Hancock's gaff had not come through hesitation however; only scare tactics. He had only needed to fire one handed twice and the look in the other men's faces had said it all. A mark to his name that all future enemies would whisper about; just as surely as Adrian would be remembered as the hulking brute who took down guys with guns by smashing their heads in with a brick.

Hancock drew a sharp breath, slinging the strap of the shotgun around his shoulders as he approached the fallen thug. He felt a great deal calmer than he had fifteen minutes ago; (Jesus, is that all it took? Fifteen minutes?) though his heart still hammered in his chest, questioning whether it could have been that easy. He slid the thick ten inch knife out of his belt, wondering even as he clutched the hilt determinedly whether he would have the balls to use it.

Turns out, he did. He just did it quick, making good and certain to be mentally present for each inch of flesh that jagged blade cut through. Somehow, he thought it would be like sliding through a Mirelurk cake; all smooth and with no resistance but it was nothing like that at all. He felt like he might as well have driven the knife into the ground outside of Goodneighbors' walls. He had used sufficient strength; stabbing in, rather than trying to slide the knife into the guys' guts, which resulted in blood spurting up onto his face. Better than on the outfit, he supposed, though he hated to think what kind of diseases might be swimming about in this bastards' blood stream.

Geoff... that had been his name. Kind of unremarkable, like his own first name really. But Geoff had been one of the very worst of all Vic's boys, namely for the kind of perversions and indulgences his voracious, apparently unquenchable appetite drove him to. Hancock had seen him come staggering drunkenly into their street shelter on more than one occasion, yank up a girl from her bedroll and drag her into the nearby alley to fuck against a wall. If he and Adrian had been able to hear him coming in time, they would pull the girls into their own beds, literally laying on top of them in order to keep them out of sight. Geoff wasn't exactly choosey when he was thwarted though; sometimes he would grab a child and this would almost immediately cause everyone to react, revealing the girls from their hiding places and sending them to the slaughterhouse instead.

Once, in one of his more Chem induced episodes, he had even grabbed Hancock. Back in the days when he had been a damn sight prettier than he was now, that is. Hancock hadn't exactly relished the thought of becoming one of Vic's boys little 'backdoor bitches' however and had put up one hell of a fight, aided and abetted by Adrian and one of the girls whom they both had protected previously. The three of them had succeeded in preserving Hancock's virtue in this instance but they had paid for it dearly later, when Geoff and a few of the boys came back in the light of day. They had had the absolute shit beaten out of them, been stripped of their clothes and tied then to poles in the main street, where they had remained, unprotected and suffering through one of the coldest, most inhospitable nights of the year.

Of course, Geoff and some of the others came back around to mess with them during the night, only to find that they had been encircled by six of their fellow drifters, who had untied them, clothed them and were in the process of binding their wounds. Of course, the threat of being shot was a major deterrent to unarmed, malnourished civilians and they had been forced to step aside. All but one. That had been Thomas. He had refused to let the three of them be further brutalized and not three days later, he had lost his life because of it.

Geoff had accrued a number of victims in his time but none so hateful as that young girl he had abused alongside Adrian and Hancock. She appeared now, booted feet splashing in the puddled mixtures of water and blood as she made her way to Hancock's side, reaching down to seize his wrist, halting him in his rancorous rampage. Her hazel eyes looked almost to be sparkling with delight as she used her spare hand to pluck the blooded knife from his hand.

"You hogging all the fun to yourself, Hancock?" She purred, her dark red hair almost indistinguishable from the blood covering her entire upper torso. Hancock smiled, shifting up onto his knee and slipping slightly in the wet muck on the street. Jesus, they'd left a hell of a mess to clean up.

"Looks like you've been having enough fun for the two of us," He quipped back, finally finding his feet and taking a step back, allowing the girl to move in closer. There were some fights that rightfully belonged to other people and this was one of those times. "I mighta... softened him up for you. Just a little bit."

She gave her short, barking laugh at this. How different she was from that self-doubting, insecure girl from a few months back; who had accustomed herself to being used as a human toilet and plaything to the unfeeling attentions of the repulsive men of the town.

"Oh, I think it's safe to see we all want a piece of Geoff for ourselves," She murmured, placing one hand on her hip as she bent at the waist, placing her face very close to Geoff's. She smiled, though there was nothing friendly in the gesture and said as she played the tip of the knife over the dying mans' nose. "Hello Geoff. It's Melanie. Do you remember me? I sure as shit remember you. I remember those eyes staring at me in all the dark places I crawled into, trying to hide where you couldn't find me." Her own eyes narrowed with spite at the memory and she poised the tip of the knife blade to the centre of the mans' forehead, her lip curling with contempt. "Those eyes... I hate those fucking eyes!!"

She acted without inclination then, sliding the bloodied blade of the knife into Geoff's eye and twisting it in a circular motion, as though she were opening a bottle of wine. He released a gurgling scream in response, hands flailing to reach her but Adrian stamped his boot down over the right one, whilst Hancock pinned the left. The man was getting his just deserts now and there was no way in hell he would be permitted to shirk even one second of it.

Melanie flexed her wrist, leveraging the knife into a horizontal point and popping Geoff's eyeball free from the socket. It was very messy and she had brought most of his eyelid in the process, tugging and tearing with her free hand to sever the still connected optic nerves.

She held the eye in her hand, where Geoff could see it with his remaining eye. "See here, you sick old fuck? You don't even deserve to go to Hell with both eyes in your head! You can roast in the flames, blind for all I care!" She crushed the mucus covered, bloodied orb between her fingers. It gave no resistance, though Hancock couldn't imagine that such an act could be easy for anyone to do. Indeed, some members of the crew looked a little sickened, though no one would have doubted that the evil bastard deserved this and worse.

Melanie flipped the knife over and held it out to Adrian with a smile. "You want a piece of this asshole before I scrap him for parts, Addy?"

The Ghoul shook his head, though there was no hint of mercy in his refusal to partake. Sweet though the man was, his gaze was unforgiving as he stared down at Geoff, the scars of his condition rendering his expression even more severe. Adrian had been in Goodneighbor longer than just about anyone and during that time, he had watched helpless as Vic's boys victimized, robbed and raped whoever they wanted. That was a long time to build up a shit tonne of resentment, to say the least.

"Much as I'd like to give this ol' shit heel a good curb stompin', I'm thinkin' we got us other fish to fry," he said, looking pointedly to Hancock and then jerking his head off to the side, towards the Old Statehouse. Hancock got the hint and leaning down, gave Melanie a parting squeeze on the shoulder.

"As the man said, got some business to take care of. Try not to have too much fun here, sister," he said, giving her what he hoped was a supportive smile, tempered with mild caution. The girl seemed to be in control of her faculties but she was still barely past her teens and had already experienced some of the very worst of humanity that was on offer. Now, she was liberally dismembering her previous tormentors with almost perverse glee and though she couldn't be blamed for taking pleasure in the act, Hancock could only hope she would not became the same as the monsters they were persecuting. They had to be better than that if they hoped for a better future.

Melanie's expression shifted slightly, just enough to assure Hancock that she had gotten his message. She must not have been happy about it but like the others, she followed the unspoken chain of command. It was Hancock after all who had guided them to this much desired eventuation and the respect he had earned during the time he had trained them in the Wasteland was not so delicate as to be compromised or questioned.

"Can't promise it'll be too quick," She said, showing just the slightest hint of defiance as she turned back to her sobbing, writhing victim. She tossed the knife lazily from hand to hand. "Bastard gave it to me up the ass one night. Didn't stop even though I was bleeding and screaming. Fucker laughed at me. He laughed at me, John!"

Hancock narrowed his eyes, wondering if it was possible to hate a person more than he hated this... creature already. That sort of hatred felt sharp, like it was searing a hole through his guts. Geoff had nearly done the same to him; would have done, if Adrian and Melanie hadn't been there to help fight him off. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing worse than taking someone's liberty. Whatever form that kidnapping came in.

Pain twinged in his lower back; a constant reminder of the mark that had been lain to his own flesh and soul. Residue burnt eternally through the layers of hastily corroding skin. A scream rose up in his mind, almost drowning out the sound of the night around him. His own voice, begging and pleading for mercy... calling out for a father long since wrought from this world, whilst fingernails scratched trenches through the grime that lay thick upon floor. His breath caught in his throat as he remembered the restriction once tight against his neck... and the pain... the _pain_... All the places he had felt the pain... that pain that had burrowed as deeply within his body as his now dreadfully sober mind...

He pulled back his leg and kicked Geoff in the side, hard, rolling the dying guard onto his buckshot riddled gut. The man was coughing up blood, pleading and screaming for mercy. Hancock turned the sound to static in his own ears, refusing to let it form any semblance of words that might evoke an emotional response. He reached down, clamping his hand over the back of Geoff's skull, pushing his face into the wet pavement and hissed so that he could hear;

"Give him a taste of his own medicine then. Let him know what it feels like to bleed and _scream_."

He released his hold on Geoff's head, taking some satisfaction at how the pleading came suddenly thicker and faster. The threat of being violated with a foreign object, namely a hunting knife, was quite persuasive in reducing once maniacal bullies to tears, it seemed. Hancock wasn't squeamish in the least but he took mercy for Adrian's sake and led him and some of the others away to their next task. Some of the other more vindictive fellows stayed to watch and judging from the screaming that followed, Melanie had made good on settling the score. Fitting justice for a man whose entire life seemed to revolve around sticking his dick into whoever seemed to want it the least.

Where Vic was to be found through this entire bloodbath was no small secret. The spineless bastard had holed himself up in the Statehouse; his glorified little castle from where he could look down on all the struggling wretches below. Hancock imagined he saw himself as quite the feudal lord from this vantage point; living it up like a great, fat cat, spooning cream into its egotistical, undeserving little mouth and then sending out his goon squad to squeeze whatever he could from the people he was supposed to be caring for. It wasn't much different from what that lardball McDonough was doing over in Diamond City and Hancock was getting just the slightest bit sick of all these assholes sitting pretty in their ivory towers, brutalizing everyone at their own discretion. Maybe McDonough was out of his reach but Vic sure as hell wasn't. Not anymore. He couldn't wait to get his hands on the mother fucker; the trunk of the rotten tree that had wended its sickly roots through Goodneighbor and was slowly sucking it dry from within.

Vic didn't plan on making it easy for them, however. Bastard never did; without his goons on point, he had the backbone density of a Wasteland omelette. He had locked all the doors into the Statehouse and had most likely retreated as far into the building as possible, like a Radroach scurrying from a much more oppressive predator.

Despite the Statehouse being more than six hundred years old, the renovations of only two hundred years prior had been good and solid. Both doors refused to give, despite a few determined members of the Nine working on each with the assistance of some pluckier members of the community. Hancock made his way over to Ryan; a tough bastard that he had nonetheless charged with making sure none of the innocent civilians got hurt in the firefight. He was chatting with the owner of the junk store; Daisy. Hancock had always gotten along well with the old girl; she was a sweet natured woman, with a teasing, cheery natured that defied her age. At two hundred years old, (give or take a decade) she was one of the few pre-war Ghouls living in the town and had always been a strong advocate for overthrowing Vic and his cruel regime.

Her lined face broke into a smile at the sight of Hancock and he sighed with relief, glad to see that she was okay. He made his way over, leaning around Ryan to plant a kiss to her cheek, which she returned.

"Oh John, you silly, brave boy. I still can't believe you've gone ahead and done it." She said, running one hand down over his cheek. He took her fingers in his own and squeezed them reassuringly, wishing that he wasn't so bloodied up whilst speaking to her. Daisy had this way of making you feel like you should always be well presented and respectful; not because she asked for it but because you truly felt she deserved it. He did his best to wipe his face with the sleeve of his jacket, which Daisy took as a sign to pass over a handkerchief she must have had spare. Hancock used it to mop his face as best he could. He was especially careful around his nose, which was a little tender, though that wasn't on account of any injuries sustained in the fight, of course.

"It ain't done yet, sister. Still gotta get in there and break the big mans' neck," He said, glancing up at the State House balcony, curling his lip with irritation. "I'm just glad you're okay, Daisy. Would've had to kick my own ass if you or any of the others got caught up in this shit. Speaking of which?" He looked to Ryan for clarification, who gave that familiar one sided smirk which creased up into his tanned cheek. A good sign.

"Went off like a charm, Hancock. All Nine are still kicking. KLEO took a bullet to the side when she joined the fray but she bounced back like no one's business." He gestured with his head to the street side of the Statehouse. "She's round there now, workin' with some of the others to try and bring the door down."

"That's our girl," Hancock said with a smirk, pocketing the bloodied handkerchief after Daisy had indicated that he keep it. He used the opportunity to break open the shotgun and reload the empty chamber in the breach, wondering if his hands might ever be steady again. He needed to keep cool and calm, less the others see him falter and lose confidence in themselves. Regardless, he still couldn't seem to shake that one tiny little tremor that ran pervasively under his skin. "Any of those doors look more likely to give?"

Ryan shrugged. "Two to one odds, I'd say the one KLEO's workin' on. Girls got a head of steam up." They all had a laugh at this, which must have been the first laugh any of them had had in... some time, actually.

"Great. Well, let's head around there and get Adrian into it," Hancock said, clamping the shotgun closed and slinging the leather strap back over his shoulder. He gave Daisy another kiss on the cheek. "Put the kettle on for us, mama. Back in a bit."

"Idiot boy," She said, giving him a small smile as he and Adrian turned and dashed off around the corner. Sure enough, there was KLEO along with Jack, Pattie and Rob, working in tandem to repeatedly kick, shoulder and shove the street side door to the Statehouse.

"Hey kids, you thought about blowing the lock out yet?" Hancock asked as he reached them, hoping it didn't sound too patronising but feeling that it was the more obvious of solutions. He flashed a quick smile in KLEO's direction. "Hey beautiful. How you holdin' up? Ryan said you copped one in the side?"

The Assaultron turned her dark face and focused the piercing red orb on her forehead in Hancock's direction. Despite being on their side in this circumstance, Hancock always preserved doubt as to whether the robotic weapons dealer could be entirely trusted; she had a strange manner of predicting and planning for all eventuation's. She had told him, quite blatantly during one of their negotiations for weapons, that she would quite happily kill him if the need ever arose to do so. Being a particularly vigilant person himself, Hancock countered that he would never be so important as to require the effort and attention necessary for her to take his life. KLEO had just sort of 'hmmmed' at this and said "We'll see." Perhaps those robotic projections were worth paying closer attention to, considering just what was happening here and now.

"Well, I thank you for your concern, John... or, is it Hancock you are now referring to yourself as? My my, it is hard for a lady to keep track these days." The Assaultron verily purred, pausing in her high powered efforts to rent the wooden doorway from its frame. Hancock had to wonder just what the good folks at Rob-Co had been thinking when they gave such a damn sultry sounding voice to a robot. It was a wonder that soldiers in the opposing army had been able to stand up straight with one of these babies running at them, proclaiming in a sexually fuelled tone that they were 'Going to destroy you.' "I do admit that I rather like the outfit. How does the old saying go? "The clothes maketh the man?"'

Hancock gave her a little smile, raising his hand to tip the foremost peak of the tricorner hat that now adorned his head. "What can I say, KLEO? Something about it just spoke to me. More importantly though, how we going with that door fella's? Surprised you big brutes haven't knocked it in yet."

Pattie gave a grunt of annoyance as he bounced back off of the door for the umpteenth time. "Woulda shot the lock off boss but we didn't want to mess the place up too much... gotta clean this shit up later, you know?"

Hancock chuckled a little at this, though he silently agreed, thinking that the least amount of damage they inflicted the better. This was already traumatic enough for the citizens with the amount of blood and guts splattered about the place; cleaning up that shit would take forever, never mind patching up repairs on a building that someone was surely going to make use of.

The question still presented itself however; how the hell were they supposed to get themselves inside? If push came to shove, Hancock had no reservations about taking the door off of the hinges (it would only take a few twists of a screwdriver after all) but Vic was a consummate coward with a shit tonne of firepower to aim at either doorway, depending on which caved. He definitely wasn't going anywhere anytime soon and Hancock gathered that the instant someone came through either one of those doors, he would unload Holy Hell on their ass. There was no back exit to the Statehouse; they had checked all this shit out before instigating their coup.

Hancock paused for a moment, glancing off to the side as a truly dark thought wormed into his mind from some unrepressed corner of his subconsciousness. He wondered if their present conundrum in fact marked a golden opportunity to really throw the scare into Vic; to make him well and truly fearful for his life before they ripped it out of him. And he knew just the way to do it.

Adrian was making a full bodied effort at the door and it looked as though he might have gotten through on his own merits; if it hadn't been for the furniture that had been piled up behind it. Reaching through the gap that he had made, Adrian grunted in annoyance as his dabbing hand slapped uselessly at what was most likely the glass lid of the display cabinet.

"Gosh darnitt, he's only gone and barricaded himself in, the spineless chump! Ugh - I can probably still get through though if I push really hard..." He demonstrated by leaning his shoulder against the door and with the support of the others, strained with all his might. Hancock could hear the creaking of the cabinet as it started to move across the floor but he already knew what was going to happen, based on the measurements he had taken previously in the Statehouse and the accurate prediction he had made as to Vic's actions. The furniture hit up against the side of the spiral stairwell and refused to go any further.

"Figured that would happen," Hancock muttered to himself, as the other three men looked completely despondent with their efforts. "If I coulda gotten in there and made rid of the fucking thing I would of... ah well, Plan B it is. Adrian, you're with me, brother."

"And uh... what's Plan B exactly, boss?" Adrian queried, scurrying to keep up with the much shorter man, despite his having the advantage of a considerably longer stride. When Hancock got going, it was quite easier to forget that he was not exactly a towering colossus such as his personality might have otherwise indicated.

"We're going to get up there in that room with Vic. Right after we scare the ever loving crap outta him," Hancock said, hoping his smile wasn't too vindictive as he said it. They were all running on an adrenaline high at the moment and though it felt damn good to get their vengeance at last, it wouldn't do to get too carried away.

Still, this was just one little hubris he felt he would grant himself; a personal 'fuck you' to the man who had made the lives of so many a miserable hell, in a world where just drawing breath was hard enough.

He marched back over to where he had left Melanie. Geoff was dead now, though Hancock doubted he had been for very long. The back of his trousers were very dark and filled with blood rimmed tears.

"You done with that?" Hancock asked, reaching out to help Melanie to her feet. She was struggling a little, trembling but looking ultimately satisfied.

"What... _that?"_ She said, still reeling from what had just happened and perhaps wondering what further use Hancock could have derived from a mutilated corpse. "Yeah but... what exactly are you gonna..."

"Thanks darlin'," He replied, giving her a pet on the side of her neck before making his way over to Meyer, one of the Nine who had taken it upon himself to enforce a melee weapon in his attacks; a fire axe. This brutality would have him perpetually dubbed as the 'Fireman' for the rest of his days in Goodneighbor and it was a title he was only too keen to take on. (He was next to useless in the event of an actual fire, ironically but he could swing that axe like a sonofabitch). On this day, he had done more than his fair share of shooting and hacking and was now smoking whilst debriefing with some of the families who were naturally very troubled by what was going on. Despite his brutality with the axe, Meyer had a nice, affable nature which was most often observable when speaking to children and beautiful women. (Especially the beautiful women). He had placed the bloodied axe out of sight of the married couple he was currently speaking to, sharing his pack of cigarettes with them and patting their shoulders with his usual 'Ah, forged- about- it' deal. Hancock groaned softly to himself as he came in range of the cigarette smoke, dying for a hit himself (of more than just a cigarette mind you) but steadfast in his conviction to not touch anything until the final deed was dealt.

"Hey Meyer, you finished with the axe, brother?" He asked, making good and certain to pat the other man on the back in a comradely gesture. Everyone needed support to get through this and he was a little worried that they were all starting to wind down simply because Vic's henchman had been dealt with. Vic may have been a slovenly old cretin but he was still dangerous; as all cornered animals were.

Meyer turned and gave a lazy little wave, clearly content in his exchange. He was one of the few Ghouls whose eyes had not changed along with the rest of his body and this surprisingly made other people feel more comfortable with him than they seemed to be with other Ghouls, particularly those whose eyes had turned black.

"Yeah boss, she's all yours. Hey, try to keep it clean huh?" He joked, laughing ironically as Hancock hefted the axe up from around the side of the shanty where it had been leaning. The once carefully honed and sharpened blade was now thick with congealed blood and cranial matter, so much so that not even a shine of the original silver could be discerned from amongst the vitae.

"Oh, I'll have it back in like new condition," Hancock said, smiling and then touching his fingers to the brim of his hat towards the young couple. This was becoming quite the set gesture, he realized and hoped to God that it didn't look too pretentious. He certainly did not intend for it to seem as such.

Adrian and Melanie looked to Hancock curiously as he made his way back with the filthy axe over his shoulder and used his foot to roll Geoff over. They looked all the more astonished when, with no warning whatsoever, he drew the axe behind him and then heaved it over his ruined shoulders with as much strength as the surely torn muscle could muster. The blade hit off centre of Geoff's neck, sinking deep into his upper chest with a horrible wet cracking noise; all too much like it would have made if striking a tree.

Adrian drew in a sharp breath to the accompaniment of a rather peculiar sounding yelp; it reminded Hancock of an old bike horn he had found once whilst exploring the ruins with his father. Melanie didn't make any sound, though her eyes widened somewhat and her brow quirked up. She didn't appear disapproving; only curious.

"Um... Hancock, much as I love seeing this dirty old fuck being hacked into pieces... is there any particular point to this? Only that times a wasting and all..."

Hancock sighed, using all the strength he could martial to yank the axe back out of the dead henchman's chest. "You'll see in a second if I can just get the-" His second blow struck gold, slicing deep into the corpses neck, carving all the way down though not separating it entirely from the spine. He retrieved the blade and hefted it once more. "-angle right!" The final blow separated the head. Hancock recalled how books and radio dramas spoke the line of 'separated the head cleanly from his shoulders'. ' _Could there ever be such a thing?_ ' He wondered, for this had been anything but clean. Geoff had been dead but there was blood all over the fucking place, pumping from the arteries in his neck, the spinal column leaking some horrible fluid which glinted like saliva in one of the few remaining street lights. The head itself still sported an empty eye socket, which dribbling a revolting substance.

Adrian's lips were wrinkled like one long agitated worm; his black eyes unreadable as always but the lines in his face clearly reflected his feelings on the subject matter. "Oh man... you are nasty, boss. Nasty. Nasty. _Nasty_." He enunciated, putting his hands on his hips and taking a few deep breaths. To his credit however, he still did his utmost to salvage a joke from the situation, saying shortly after, "If you needed head that badly, I'm sure we could have both shut our eyes and pretended while I got my knees dirty."

Of all things that had transpired that night, it was this that actually seemed to turn Melanie's stomach and she elbowed the towering Ghoul in the abdomen so hard that he almost keeled in half. "Oh gross, really? You had to put those sorts of images in _my_ head?"

"Hey, don't ask, don't tell." Adrian remarked, clenching his stomach tightly where she had struck him. Hancock responded with a little smile as he reached down, winding his fingers through Geoff's hair and lifting the blood encrusted head off of the pavement.

"He's never looked better." Melanie noted, though her eyes didn't show a great deal of humour as her remark might have entailed. Someone being dead didn't exactly change what they got away with doing to you in life after all. A good drink at the end of the night might help that but in the meantime...

"You got a grenade left?" Hancock asked, knowing full well that she did. They had decided just before dropping from the rooftops not to use any grenades, as it would possibly endanger the surrounding citizens.

"Sure," Melanie replied, reaching down and unhooking one of the small, indented orbs from her belt. She passed it to Hancock, who took it with the hand that wasn't currently holding the severed head aloft. "What's the go? You gonna take down the door with that or what?"

Hancock gave her a mysterious little smirk as he made his way back towards the entry to the Third Rail, situated just below the balcony of the Statehouse. The doors up there had been left open, he had earlier observed, because Vic had most likely been too arrogant or too stupid to think that no one could have made it in through that entrance. It would have been difficult for sure but where there was a bunch of angry, messed up drifters to contend with, there was a way.

"Nah, baby. We're gonna give our friend Vic a nice little Christmas present. Being the holiday spirit and all." Hancock whistled between his teeth, gesturing towards Adrian. The big Ghoul lumbered over, ready for whatever instruction came next. "Need your help, my man. Want ya to hoist me in the air, like I'm a pretty little cheerleader. Reckon you can do that?"

Adrian mulled on this for a moment and then his lips curled up into a mischievous smile, cottoning on to what Hancock had planned. "Hey, you got it, boss. Can't make ya pretty mind but I could throw your tiny ass around like it's belongs to a doll, no sweat."

"Yeah, yeah, just try and resist from grabbing it while you're whipping me around," Hancock cracked, steading his hand on the other mans' shoulder as he moved close. Adrian went to grab him around the middle but a stout shove sent him reeling back with a confused look. "I said throw me in the air, not grind me, ya big poof! We're not on a date, for fucks sake! Just grab me under the foot, hoist me and then catch me when I come down."

"You'll be lucky if I _do_  catch you after that remark," Adrian grumbled, though they had known one another long enough to banter as they did without either taking true offense. He knelt on one knee, as though proposing and braced both hands with fingers intertwined, creating a platform for Hancock to sink his boot into.

Hancock got himself into position, sliding his foot down against Adrian's still bloodied hands and paused there. He jammed the grenade into the mouth of the severed head, pushing it past the teeth with some difficulty (some had to be knocked out to achieve this) and then (as he fought back nausea) lowered his face to Geoff's and used his own teeth to rip out the protruding ring that poked out from between the dead mans' lips.

"Now!" He yelled and without further ado, Adrian launched him ceremoniously upwards, as though he were indeed a cheerleader, celebrating the victory of his assigned football team in the days before the Great War. Performing more in the manner of a pitcher than a cheerleader however, Hancock forcefully willed his aching muscles to comply, knowing he had the bare tiniest opportunity to make this work and hurled the severed head as hard as he could through the open balcony doorway. It sailed through, though only barely, bouncing once, twice before coming to a rest somewhere inside. Before Hancock came plunging back to earth, he saw a shadowy figure highlighted against the far south windows. They must have gotten a good look at the improvised projectile, as it had bounced in right in front of them.

"Merry Christmas, mother fucker!" Hancock yelled, as loudly and as angrily as he could whilst sailing downward (almost gracefully) through the air. Adrian was strong enough to have lifted him high enough to reach the edge of the balcony and in spite of his damaged muscles, an idea lodged in Hancock's mind even as he plummeted back to his friends waiting arms. A thunderous BOOOOM echoed from the room above and wood chips and dust exploded out through the doorway and Hancock smacked Adrian smartly in the chest as he collapsed down into his arms, not wanting to waste a second now that he had the idea.

"Throw me up again. I'm gonna climb through the door." He said, raising his voice to be heard over the resounding echo of the explosion. To his credit, Adrian didn't hesitate but as usual, he trusted. He adjusted Hancock so that he was bracing his foot again and then hurled him upward with as much strength as he could surely muster, grunting and almost leaving the ground himself in the effort.

Of course, he could not fling him directly atop the balcony but only so that his hands were flush with it. Hancock snagged his fingers around the rim of the balcony floor, feeling the jagged concrete sinking into the crevices of his fingers as he hung on for dear life. He could hear the voices of the Goodneighbor citizens all echoing as one below him, urging him on, begging him not to fall and hurt himself. It made him feel all the more determined. And it would not be too long before Vic realized that the grenade was merely a flamboyant distraction so that he would not hurry over and stamp the fingers of anyone attempting to climb the balcony.

Hancock could feel his muscles straining and he was more than convinced now that one in his shoulder was torn, for the pain was almost unbearable. It was stupid to have been showing off like that, when preserving his body was the most important thing to ensure that they would emerge victorious from this. Lamenting about what had been done would do no good now though, so he instead focused every ounce of strength on pulling himself up onto the railing. Out in the Wasteland, he had encouraged all the Drifters to do chin ups every day, to develop their upper body strength should they find themselves in a situation like this. Now he was relieved, more than ever, that he had come down hard on this particular exercise. If it had not been for the development of his lats, he would never have been able to pull himself up with such limited leverage.

The railings were constructed of stone and were hard to find any purchase on. Hancock was forced to slip his fingers around them as best he could and then clench his core muscles and pull upward with every inch focused on his biceps and deltoids. They strained and burned, especially as they were required to perform the entirety of the work until Hancock was able to bring his hips into alignment with the floor level of the balcony. Sweat was pooling down his face and his adrenaline levels were spiking out of control, sending his heart into a maddening, desperate rhythm as he jabbed his right leg urgently at the stone floor, trying to find enough surface to brace it upon so that he could securely lift with his entire body. He trusted that Adrian would catch him if he fell but he surely could not afford to fail when so many people were depending on him! They had to keep trusting, they needed to see him succeed! And yet... more than that... he needed to succeed. For once in his miserable, wishy washy life he would not fall flat.

After what seemed like a dreadful eternity, Hancock's foot hit the wall and he was able to ground it securely enough to apply some extra pressure through his body. He pushed hard against the wall, using the muscles now in his thighs, back and arms to swing himself upward, almost like a pendulum. It hurt like hell, given the damage he had already done but he bit it down, knowing that Vic was close now. Using one hand at a time he pulled himself further up the concrete railing, alternating his balance with pushes from his core and little hops of his body until long last, he was able to bring his torso up over the railing and clutch it tightly as though it were the last and only life raft of the Titanic.

He could hear the crowd below cheering in support but he didn't allow himself to be carried away with the small success of this (admittedly fucking exhausting) endeavour. ' _I can die later'_ , he reassured himself, swinging his body over the railing and collapsing gracelessly onto his ass over the far side. He shuffled quickly off to the side, anticipating that Vic might have recovered enough from his little 'Christmas gift' to pull a swift response and sure enough, three shots were fired in quick succession in his direction. Hancock used the right hand wall to shield himself, waiting until he heard the Mayors gun click on empty before he made his move, climbing to his feet and sauntering around the door as though he hadn't a care in the world.

Sure he was in pain. Sure he was exhausted, sad and homicidally impatient for a cigarette. But he didn't let a nuance of this show, permitting Vic to see only that which would make his last few moments in this world as miserable and terrifying as possible.

Hancock let him see the anger, the pure uncensored hatred, which would have rent his face unsightly if the radiation Chem had not already done that. Vic had not seen him since before that time and there was no way now that he was able to fathom or indeed recognize who was standing before him.

Perhaps it was the fact that he was only in the process of turning into a Ghoul that made him look all the more horrifying and Hancock was more than happy to use this to his advantage. Vic stared at him in abject horror; perhaps taking in those bright blue eyes that were speckled with spots of black as though they had been stabbed with an ink pen. Perhaps revolted by the insidious tears that were running through his cheeks, some still red and sore from the fresh splitting of the wounds. Maybe even drawing a conclusion upon seeing the strands of blond hair which had escaped from under the signature tricorn hat; the same hat that he must have seen many a time since passing by it at the lower levels of the Statehouse every day.

Hancock smirked, thinking that the putrescent bastard looked even uglier than he now did, if only for the fact that his very girth was suggestive of the pampered lifestyle in which he indulged at the expense of everyone else. He was big and slovenly, and though Hancock was not the type to judge a person on their appearance, it was difficult not to despise this man for his size, given that the rest of Goodneighbor was starving on fresh air and dying hopes. His narrow eyes were surmounted by thin brows, his chin quivering above the loose knot of his tie. The pinstriped suit he wore was even an affront; the only business this man was interested in was sucking the life out of others and living on the bare dregs he had exsanguinated.

He didn't look so composed now; sitting on the floor like a dropped bag of Tato's, legs spread and mouth gaping hopelessly. His once clean and proud suit was speckled with blood and hair and every other little piece of god knows what else that had exploded out of Geoff's head when the grenade had gone off. A jagged, smoking hole in the floor, rimmed with splintery wooden teeth and tatters of flesh  was all that remained of this little 'gift'. It was clear that the only reason Vic had survived the explosion, was because of the couch that had rested between himself and the balcony doors. Hancock was no expert in the area of fabric detailing but he doubted there was a professional in the Commonwealth with skills enough to restore that sofa to its former standard; it looked as though an autopsy had been performed on top of it by a very angry and substandard medical practitioner.

Hancock smiled, sweeping his hat majestically from his near balding head and offering a sanctimonious little bow to the current reigning mayor of Goodneighbor. "Hey there, Viccy-boy. Just thought I might drop in for a little chat. Been a while since we've seen each other." He swept his hat back onto his head with a twirl of his hand, kneeling so that he was eye to eye with the other man. "Guess I look a bit different from the last time you saw me though."

He could see that it was still running through Vic's head; that he was still trying to make sense of it all. His lips flapped pointlessly for a minute or two before finally, that little spark of acknowledgement alit in his eyes and he said, "Jesus fucking Christ... it's you. You of all people!" He laughed then and this made Hancock furious because it was a laugh of relief, as though he thought somehow that he no longer had any reason to be afraid of what might transpire. "Little Johnny-boy! Oh, look at you in those old clothes... playing dress up with the big boys." He continued to laugh in that mocking, demeaning manner as he slowly climbed to his feet, wiping a hand at his knee as though there were some point in cleaning himself off. "Jesus... you... what the fuck have you done to your face, pretty boy? Hope you didn't do that shit just to frighten me because I hate to tell ya-" He looked Hancock up and done and snorted derisively, pressing the hand that held the pistol over his mouth. "Ya wasted your fucking time. Ya look... friggin' ridiculous, Shortstop."

What would have been his next chuckle was transformed violently into a ferocious exhaust of air as Hancock, face rendered grotesque in his rage, lurched forward, slamming his boot into Vic's chest. He felt a rib snap beneath his attack but this wasn't enough compensation for the pure unfiltered anger the mayor had set to curdling in his veins; his brain was swarmed with a sickening buzzing sound and he could have snapped his teeth for how hard he was clenching them together. What would it take for this asshole to take him seriously? What would it take for _anyone_ to ever take him seriously, to ever be afraid of what he could do to them? Hancock wasn't sure what the formula for people's fear was but he was sure as shit prepared to take a stab at it and see what came out the other side.

Vic's back hit the floor with a thunderous smash and he was left no time to recover before Hancock's foot stamped down onto his face, crushing his cheek and jaw into the wooden boards beneath him. He used his other foot to kick the empty pistol off to the side, where it cluttered aimlessly off of the far wall. He had to stand on the depraved mayors' face momentarily as he did this, which caused the other man to shriek as Hancock's entire weight balanced on the rise of his cheek bone.

"Lucky for you I'm so short, otherwise that might have hurt a hell of a lot more." The soon to be Ghoul hissed, leaning his entire body weight down into the leg which kept Vic pinned. "You know, I hate that fucking name. Shortstop, shortstop, shortstop. All this shit just to keep people down, keep 'em in their place. All of that ends now, _Vic_."

He reached down, grabbing Vic by the collar and yanking him up onto his knees, bringing his foot back now to strike the man square in the ass as he pushed him out in front of him. "Get your ass down those stairs. NOW!!"

Vic burbled incomprehensively, clutching one hand to his cheek, which now bore a dirtied and bloodied boot print of Hancock's shoe. He struggled to remain standing as Hancock liberally hurled him towards the spiral staircase, clearly intending to send him hurtling down them to the ground floor.

"Wait, wait!" He pleaded, crying out as Hancock knocked his fedora from his head and grabbed a handful of his hair, using this now to compel him forward. "I get that you're pissed off... but if you want a better deal for yourself, I can make that happen! I mean, that's what this is all about, right? Being in charge?"

They stood by the railing to the spiral stairwell now, poised distinctly on the edge of so many things. Hancock released his hold on Vic's hair, pushing him so that both his shoulders smacked into the wooden railing. Vic gasped slightly, angling his weight forward in an attempt at not losing his balance. Given the choice however, he would have much preferred to tip over backwards than move any closer to where Hancock was standing, glaring at him with what could only be described as an expression of pure revulsion.

"The fact that you could even _think_ that we could _ever_ want the same things makes me sick to my fucking stomach," He hissed, voice lowering to that dangerous, animal like susurration that seemed to come directly from some dark place within his chest. "You can't buy your way out of what you've done to us." He leaned in now, his face so close to Vic's that the mayor could plainly see the bloodied line running through the base of the boys' nose. He imagined he could even smell the rot of the cartilage as it deteriorated second by second. "The guy whose head we just threw in here, with a grenade in its mouth? That was Geoff. You know what you let that guy and all the rest of your goons do? 'Cause I remember. I remember being tied naked to a pole in the centre square, feeling every little jolt as a few of them took their turns with Melanie." He felt all the more disgusted to see that the fearful expression on Vic's face had nothing to do with this information. The only feeling this asshole had was for himself. "We could feel it... every time one of your bastard rats hurt her. Adrian and I... we begged 'em... we begged 'em and we cried and promised 'em every cap in our pockets if they'd just leave her alone. We were so scared. We were fucking ashamed." He reached over, pinching his hand around Vic's mouth, squeezing as hard as he could, digging his nails in so that the first layer of flesh was penetrated. "You didn't give a shit. Because the folks you're supposed to protect are expendable to you. There's nothing you can offer except dying like the dog you are."

Hancock relished the look of utter fear on Vic's face as he pushed forward with all this might, tipping the fat tub of lard backwards and over the railing. Half of it snapped and went with him but this small repair job was worth every future second of sweat popping labour; all for hearing the shriek and resounding crash as Vic tumbled backwards into the stairwell and rolled spectacularly down to the ground floor. Hancock smirked slightly to himself, thinking the big oaf looked like a gore coloured bowling ball as he tumbled over and over. He vaulted the railing and followed him down, adding an extra kick of encouragement when he got caught in the curve of one of the corners.

Vic cried out in pain as he hit the ground floor, rolling onto his stomach and clutching his chest, undoubtedly where his rib was snapped through. Hancock used this distraction to make his way over to the street side door, grasping the edge of the display case and pushing it off to the side with all his strength. The door caved immediately, slamming open and crashing against the side of the case. Pattie, Jack and Rob exploded through the gap, falling over each other in their efforts to get inside. They got a bit of a shock to see Hancock staring back at them, who gave a little wave of the hand as though greeting house guests over for afternoon tea.

"Glad you could make it, boys. Having us quite the party in here." He said, using his boot to shove the display case as far off to the side as possible before returning to where Vic was curled up on the floor. The mayor saw him coming and tried to struggle up, earning a hard kick directly in the groin for his efforts. A thin white fluid came burbling up out of his mouth, dripping onto his chin as he collapsed in on himself like a pill bug. Hancock showed not the slightest hint of pity as he grabbed the floundering man by the collar, pulling him along behind him like a much begrudged bag of luggage. He tugged him down the concrete stairs and tossed him unceremoniously onto the pavement below, where a number of members of the community were gathered around, having seen the boys bust through the door.

"Apologize to them," Hancock said, his voice like cold steel as he stood in the doorway of the Old Statehouse, cast in shadow by the light which struck his silhouette from inside.

Vic managed to lift his head to look back over his shoulder, eyes bulging hysterically in his puce coloured face. "What? What are you talking about?!"

"TELL THEM YOU'RE SORRY!" Hancock roared, for the very first time that night losing his temper. It must have been the right time to have loosened his control over his emotions however because everyone looked emboldened by it; they tightened their circle around Vic, gaining some much deserved courage from Hancock's outburst. "Tell them you're sorry, for every rotten, no good, evil thing you've done to them. For everything you let happen to them!"

Vic struggled with what to say to this, swiping his hand at his chin to try and tidy himself up to some meagre degree. His eyes narrowed in, recognizing the anger and how to deal with this. It seemed to make him all the more defiant rather than cow him into submission and he glared up at Hancock with the reproach of a dog that was prepared to circle around and bite when least expected.

"Kiss my ass, boy. You ain't getting nothin' outta me." He spat a mouthful of vomitus fluid to the ground by the stairs, as close as he could get to where Hancock stood.

A deafening crack echoed along the crowded streetway and Vic at long last lost his cheek and started screaming, staring in horror at the bloodied, mangled remains of his left foot; protruding from beneath the sleeper that Adrian had just smashed down over his ankle. This time there had been no holding back, Hancock knew. The look on his friends face was compounded fury, fashioned beyond moral limitations. Both massive hands were clutched around the concrete slab, so it had to have come thundering down at full force. Looking at the pulped mess of protruding bones and mashed flesh which had once been Vic's lower leg was enough proof of his commitment.

"Don't you fucking spit at him," Adrian snarled, his voice shaking with a cold, yet clearly out of control, anger. He raised the sleeper, holding it up above Vic's body as though fully intending to bring it down once more. "He's gone done more for us than you ever did, ya dirty prick! He's worth five a' ya!"

Vic continued to scream intermittently for some time, stopping only to draw further breath to beseech Gods he no doubt didn't believe in to help him. His screams only worsened when he saw Melanie now approach him from around Adrian's towering frame, a smiling visage of pure sensual happiness in comparison to her companions radiating fury. She balanced the tip of a knife against her finger; thickly encrusted with blood and who knows what else as she raised her foot and brought it mercilessly down on Vic's shattered limb. She smiled more widely and with deeper satisfaction as she wrought further screams from him, twisting her foot from side to side as though squashing a bug.

"Come on, Vic. Surely you didn't think you could just go on hurting people without making them want to hurt you back?" She purred, cocking her head in a fake sympathetic gesture. "It's sickening isn't it? Feeling this helpless... suffering with no one to help you? Well... now you know a little about what you put the rest of us through."

She dropped down onto the ground, mounting Vic's body, one leg to either side of him. His eyes were focused on the knife, gasping for breath, face trembling as Melanie trailed the blade over the palm of her hand before then holding it out in front of his eyes.

"Can you guess whose shit is all over this knife, Vic?" She whispered, eyes half lidded, a small smile lifting the corners of her lips. She looked almost angelic in her pleasure, if not for the dark act she was perpetuating. "Belongs to your boy, Geoff. He didn't like pain very much either." She tapped the blade against Vic's lips, leaving a stain in the white froth still encircling his mouth. "No one does. None of us did! None of us did!!"

She leaned back, slapping the side of Vic's face with the knife, cutting a shallow semi-circle in his flesh. The surrounding drifters broke their silence now and joined together in a roiling, hungry tide of support; screaming out a myriad of suggestions for how Vic should best be tortured. One girl who had also been victimized by the Mayors goon squad, yelled out for Melanie to cut his dick off. Rob went one further, saying they should cut off his limbs one at a time. Someone else suggested they should feed his fingers to him.

"Don't... please, don't do it!" Vic begged, his eyes sweeping the ravenous crowd for a sympathetic face and spying not a one; for not a single person had been spared from the torment that he had inflicted upon them for years. Not one family left untouched, not one girl left with the preservation of her innocence, not one man spared the crushing of his dignity at some juncture.

So he turned then, to the only person he knew now could corral the virulent desires of the vastly swelling mob. Tears streamed down his face, mixing in with the blood coursing from his wound as he sought out Hancock, who had not moved from the doorway, arms crossed and silently observing.

"Shortstop, _please!"_ He screamed, reaching out one shaking hand from the pavement, imploring the young man whom he had not so long ago mocked tenaciously. "Please tell them to stop! Make her put the knife away and I'll give you anything you want!! Please!!"

Hancock, his lips pressed together tightly, stood as still and unswaying as a mountain rising from a tumultuous ocean. Calm though he appeared on the outside, his chest swirled with contrary feelings about how the situation was transpiring before him. He was after all not immune to the contagion of violence that was sweeping through the populace; as potent as a fast moving plague and just as destructive. ' _What's happening to us?'_  He wondered, tilting his head only slightly so as to look at the group gathered around Vic, trying to pinpoint what it was exactly that didn't sit quite right. ' _They look like a bunch of mongrel dogs gathered around a wounded Brahmin',_ he thought to himself and it clicked suddenly then just what was so wrong with this entire situation.

We've been so damn used to being the prey for so long that we have no idea as to what to do with power, he realized and felt a little sick for how easily they had all succumbed to this despicable pack mentality. There was no honour in this; nothing to be proven by attacking one man en masse, other than to validate the manner in which this piece of shit had lived his entire life.

Hancock turned his eyes back to Vic, narrowed them and called, "If I were you, I'd get to apologizing quick smart before Melanie turns up the heat on your ass."

"Fine, fine! I apologize!! You hear me, I fucking apologize!!"

Hancock looked to Melanie and made a slight, almost imperceptible gesture with his head. She complied immediately by pinning Vic's hand down by the wrist and moving the knife to his pinkie finger. Vic tried to throw her off and would have succeeded if Adrian had not stepped in and applied his foot to the Mayors upper arm. Vic squealed like a dying animal as Melanie dug the knife into the plump flesh of his finger, sawing with the blunt blade before hitting bone. It didn't look like it was going to happen quickly, so Hancock started talking again, figuring it was enough of a message for Vic to alter his response.

"Look what you've gone and done now, Vic." He drawled, with a tone that conveyed genuine sadness for the other mans' plight. "Melanie's gotten all worked up because you couldn't even do the decent thing and apologize properly."

When Vic could speak again, he called out in a voice thick with tears, "I don't... I don't understand!! I told you I'm sorry, what more do you want me to do, you mother fucker?!"

He screamed again, as Adrian pressed his foot down harder and harder against his arm, Melanie using her hands to forcefully snap the bone of his pinkie finger so that she could finally detach the digit fully. Hancock sighed, tilting his head with brows furrowed sympathetically.

"Now, that isn't very nice, Vic. What your Mom and I get up to in our spare time is kind of private you know." He chuckled to himself and offered a little wink. "Tell ya what though; you both squeal the same when someone's given' it to ya."

Vic screamed out in frustrated rage as much as pain, slapping at Adrian's toned leg with his free hand and then digging at it, flailing in a fitful dance that represented a pain too great for any significant endurance. Hancock watched for only a moment longer, before then whistling from the corner of his mouth. He wondered how long he might be able to do this, considering how the Ghoulification was caving in his lips; causing them to feel stiffer and less pliable by the day.

Adrian immediately got the hint from one look at his friends face and reached down, taking a gentle hold of Melanie by the shoulder, halting her in her infuriated efforts to redeem her prize from Vic's hand. She looked at him furiously and then turned to Hancock, her brows dropping dramatically, eyes gravid with that deep sadness she had spent so many months trying to conceal.

"Please..." She whispered, an entreaty that held so much more sway over Hancock than any of the putrescent squeals of the man pinned beneath her. "You know how much they did to me... you know, please..."

Hancock went to her, lowering his arms and lifting her from the mutilated mans' tumescent form, pulling her to her feet. She started to cry then, falling against him, fists banging on the backs of his shoulders as he half held and half carried her over to where the other members of the Nine stood.

"I know, baby... shhhh," He did his best to soothe her, knowing that what had been done to her could never be remedied by what he had almost permitted her to do but wishing he had let her take her revenge anyway. If anyone deserved to be tortured, it was Vic. The rub of it of course was that Vic would eventually die and then Melanie would be forced to go on, living with the eternal mental damage that could not be avoided from such depraved acts of violence against another human being. Hancock had set out to keep as many of the drifters safe from harm and that was a responsibility that he fully intended to keep; including harm they might have inadvertently caused to themselves.

"You don't... understand..." Melanie was sobbing as he hauled her over to where the other Nine were waiting. He made sure they had a firm hold of her shoulders, for she would surely break free and return to exact more against Vic if she had the opportunity. "You don't know what it was like... so many days, so many nights... I never felt clean, Hancock!! They didn't give me time between showers, just kept me filling up with their disgusting..." She broke down with an angry scream, pulling her arms back and forth in a desperate attempt to free herself from the others hold. "I had to keep going to the doctor... had to keep getting rid of them. Over and over and over and over again!! For so many fucking years until every bit inside of me was broken!! He let them do it to me, Hancock!! He deserves to die! I wanna kill him! I wanna make him feel just a tiny bit of what he put me through, please!!"

Hancock turned and cupped his hands around her face, pulling her back up roughly in this hold and giving her a firm shake to shock her back to being calm. "I know you do and he fucking deserves it ten times over and more besides that. But you know what? We ain't gonna be like him, you got it?" He pointed over his shoulder at Vic's curled, quivering form. "And you know why? Because we're better than him. We're not gonna let how we feel about him justify our behaving like monsters too. The minute we start smiling when we cause pain, that's the minute we've gone too far."

He held her for a moment longer, making good and certain that she was as calm as she was likely to be before returning to Vic's side. He unlooped the shotgun from around his chest and held it loosely in his left hand, tapping the barrel to the palm of his right.

"Now let's try this one more time Vic and do try and be sensible about it, please," He said, watching the Mayor snivel like a school child on the losing end of a yard fight. "If you're gonna apologize for the shit you've done, you gotta be more specific. Try apologizing first to the young lady who was just trying to take your finger off."

Vic looked over at Melanie, his expression suggesting that he would much prefer to drink water from the public outhouse than apologize to her but the look she gave him back seemed to convince him that it was indeed in his best interests.

"I'm, I'm sorry!" He whimpered, clutching his mutilated arm to his chest, trying to move but unable to on account of his leg. "I'm sorry for everything that happened to you... I'm sorry for everything I let happen to you."

"And what exactly did you let happen to her?" Hancock whispered dangerously, bracing the barrel of the gun and sliding his finger against the trigger. Vic's eyes widened and he blubbered almost incomprehensively as Hancock raised the gun to eye level.

"NO! No please!! I'm sorry I let my men abuse her, I'm sorry I let them rape her!!" He seemed then to cotton on to what Hancock was requesting now and with a desperate glance around the ground, he started rounding off. "I'm sorry I let all of you be used like that! I'm sorry I took your food, your money! I'm sorry I kept you out in the streets in the cold! I'm sorry for the beatings, for everything!"

"What about Thomas?" Hancock snarled, the black spots in his eyes seeming to expand and contract with the anger resonating in his veins. Vic looked dumbfounded for a moment, his own eyes darting back and forth as though looking for an explanation in any of the stone pavers of the Statehouse wall.

"Thomas... I don't... I don't know who this Thomas i-"

With one hand grasping the barrel of the shotgun, Hancock lurched forward, swinging the stock so hard against Vic's jaw he heard the bone crunch on impact. He was screaming again now but Hancock was beyond caring, slamming one foot down on the mayors' chest, pressing the twin barrels of the gun against his sweat streaked forehead.

"Of course you don't!!" He yelled, forcing his voice higher so as to be heard over the other mans' screams. "All these people who needed your help, who you should have made the time to get to know and you can't even remember any of our names, not even to- Oh would you quit with the blubbering theatrics already?!" He bellowed, bashing Vic hard in the forehead with the barrel of the gun to provide some incentive. "I'll tell you who Thomas was, you piece of shit. He was the only one in this town with the balls to stand up to you and your fucking goon squad and you know what they did to him? Beat him until his ribs caved in and his neck was broken. Left him there to die on the street right in front of the rest of us. Right about where we're standing, matter a fact."

Hancock leaned in closer now, making good and certain that Vic met his eyes so that he could see the conviction there.

"Thomas was our friend." He said and for the very first time that night, a quaver of tender emotion entered his voice. "And if we can't have him back, then we'll take your neck in payment." He straightened up and called over to the assembled Nine. "You got that rope, Meyer?"

The plan had not changed from the moment of its conception, of course. Though things had gotten a little out of hand, the plan had always been to execute Vic by hanging him from the Statehouse balcony, like the criminals in the days of old. Snapping his neck at the same time would take on some ironic pleasure, given Thomas's cruel death and hey, if his neck didn't break, plenty of people would be happy to hang from his feet.

Meyer, looking a little disappointed that the tormenting of Vic hadn't lasted longer, nonetheless tossed over the rope he had looped around his shoulder without hesitation. Hancock caught it one handed and unwound the length, holding out the somewhat sloppily tied noose they had made in it earlier that night. Each of the Nine had actually cut their hands and clutched the noose to their palms, leaving their blood wended through the fibres that would soon be yanked taut about Vic's neck. They had left one space clear; where Thomas's hand might otherwise have been.

Vic cried, struggling to move away as Hancock grabbed his scruff and yanked the noose around his neck, tightening the loops so that the coil pulled snug against his gullet. Vic yanked at it futilely, leaving streaks of blood against his throat from his nearly severed finger.

"No... please!" He croaked, face already turning red from the exertion to his jugular. "I apologized, just like you asked, Shortstop!!"

Hancock yanked the end of the rope, bringing the blubbering man up onto his rump so that they were almost nose to nose. He couldn't think who the uglier sight was really; Vic a bloodied dribbling mess, face congealed with vomit and snot, or himself; skin puckered and rotting, lips curling, eyes black and resonating with loathing.

"I never said that meant you got to live, you miserable bastard." He hissed, reaching down to grab the coil around Vic's throat, tugging it tighter still until red veins started to bulge in the Mayors straining, milky eyes. "And it's Hancock now, shit stain."

Vic shrieked as Hancock wrenched the rope with all his strength, pulling the hysterical man face first onto the ground. Pattie and Ryan immediately surged forward to assist, grasping the trailing length of the rope as Adrian swept Vic's legs off of the ground. Working together, the four men consecutively dragged and lugged their struggling victim back inside of the Statehouse, not a one of them concerned with gentle handling. Vic's head and upper back banged the stairwell a number of times, though any pain he might have felt from these minor collisions had faded in the overpowering tide of fear that had undoubtedly flooded his mind and body. He screamed for mercy the entire irritating struggle back up the stairs, kicking and bucking like a cat caught in a bag. For every defiant twist of his body, Adrian responded in turn by rotating Vic's broken foot to the side, causing the splintered bones to crunch together with a sound not unlike twigs snapping. The pain did little to deter the Mayor from his repeated attempts to escape however and by the time they had reached the second story, he was reduced to little more than weeping, listless pleas; exhausted and as limply compliant as an old sock.

Hancock took the main length of rope from Ryan and Pattie and made his way over to the balcony doors, ensuring that they were securely propped open with two chairs that had been perched against the wall. He didn't want to risk Vic grabbing hold of the doors when they got him out here. He could see the crowd stirring below, responding to his appearance on the balcony but he didn't acknowledge them at this time; intensely focused on what still needed to be done. Working silently, he tied the rope around the stone railing as securely as he was able. His father had taught him how to tie a few knots when he'd been a lad and he could remember a few that he was certain would be secure enough to hold a grown mans' weight. A big fat prick like this though? He could only hope the fibres wouldn't fray and give out underneath his blubbery ass or he'd crush the folks down below.

Hancock gave the ties a few hard tugs, convinced that it was secure enough to do the trick. He turned back to his fellow drifters, who held Vic suspended above the ground as though he were a child playing make believe Vertibird with his father and gestured with a nod of his head.

"Get his big ass over here and let's finish this, brothers."

Vic's eyes bulged and he renewed his struggles against his tireless captors; screaming 'NO! NO!' as he wrenched his shoulders from side to side. He had little to no hope of overpowering such a vengeance compelled throng however; these men for one night had the adrenal glands of Olympian Gods. Their mind and bodies hardened and made all the stronger for their constant exposure and saturation to the choking toxins of the corrupted town and its ghastly overseers.

The mayor realized then, only far too late that he himself had been the true instrument of his own demise; for the will of the oppressed cannot be broken, only made all the more durable with each new scar you lay upon it. And these men... their will now was indestructible.

They dragged him over to the railing, pushing him back against it, Hancock lifting his legs so that he lay as stiff as a plank upon the concrete balustrade. At some point in his transition up the stairwell, Vic had lost control of his bladder; the front of his pinstriped trousers were dark and he reeked of urine. None of them felt the need to mention it or in fact use it as a means of humiliating the man even further. Instead, Hancock clutched the band of rope about Vic's neck again, keeping him from tipping backwards to his death. He leaned close.

"You took everything from us, you fucking parasite. You made us afraid to go to sleep at night and even more afraid when we woke up the next morning and found we were still breathing. Every liberty we had, you took." He gave a smile that was all the more crooked for the half of his lip that was drooping and pushed Vic back further, until the man's body poised diagonally on the lip of the railing, his head pointed towards the concrete below. "Well... now, we're going to take your last little liberty in this world Vic; your right to your miserable fucking life."

"No, please!" Vic screamed, both hands clutching at Hancock's as though this contact itself might inspire mercy on the Ghoul's part. "Please, I don't want to die!!"

Hancock's eyes narrowed. "You had more than enough time to figure that out, you bastard. Go to Hell." And what was lost in poetry was certainly achieved in motion, as Hancock released his grip on Vic's neck and kicked the Mayors dangling legs from around the railing in one fell swoop. Vic's eyes held the same expression, unchanging as he dropped, tears still clinging to his lashes which were snapped violently away as the rope pulled taught about his neck, cracking his legs down and around beneath him like a pendulum swinging in the bowels of an irate Grandfather clock. The snapping of his neck had not been as loud or as dramatic as Hancock had predicted; it surprisingly reminded him more of the sound a pair of scissor blades made when coming together, only greatly enhanced. He could not remember if Thomas's neck had made the same sound when the goon squad attacked him but he supposed that he had been so terrified at the time, it was a wonder he could remember anything of that night at all.

Now however, he felt an irrevocable sense of calm sweep through him, watching Vic's body swing almost leisurely back and forth above the blurred faces of the crowd below.

It was finished... at long last, the tyrant had been usurped from his throne in the most spectacular of fashions.

Hancock wasn't so young or naïve as to presume that what came next would be easy, however it had to have been better than what came before, that was for certain. If he could have any small say in the matter, he would do his utmost to ensure that whoever stepped up to the plate next was worthy of the mantel. No more exploitation of those that were weaker, no maltreatment of women, children or men. No more freezing out in the cold and scrimping and scraping just for some asshole to come and snatch whatever small thing you had right out of your hands.

Hancock sighed deeply, trying to keep a steady breath but it still quavered a little. He swung his gun down from around his chest and checked it over, snapping the chamber open to check the cartridges even though he knew that it was loaded already. He just... needed to do something for a minute. Make certain that no one saw that his hands were still trembling; what these folks needed now more than ever was some reassurance, some conviction. Not some spoon fed Diamond City boy shaking like a leaf in his costumed boots.

When he finally looked up, he realized that everyone down below was staring at him. Their eyes held an anticipatory hope; as though he were Father Christmas himself, having just tumbled from his sleigh in the sky to alight upon their rooftops with toys and Chems aplenty. Turning to Adrian, Ryan and Pattie only confirmed what he had been somewhat dreading; their eyes entreated him to take that next step and guide them forward. They had made no plan beyond Vic's execution and now the man himself was swinging like some lurid ornament below them, they were without direction as to how to proceed.

Hancock supposed it made sense; after all, he was the one who had pulled, poked and prodded them through their training in the Ruins for all those months leading up to this day. They hadn't spoken about who might take over the role of mayor after Vic was dead (Hancock just kind of assumed that most of the big players in the town would sit down and work that out amongst themselves) but from the way everyone was looking at him, it was plainly obvious that they assumed he had acted out of a desire to claim the crown for himself.

Maybe it was the fact that he was wearing Hancock's duds which made him stand out amongst the other drifters but it had certainly not been out of a desire to gather votes. Just thinking about acting in the role of a politician, no matter how menial, reminded him too much of Diamond City and all the bad memories there. He'd come to Goodneighbor to get away from all that shit and now these poor folks probably thought that he was just another tyrant who wanted to rule the roost and take advantage of them.

"Listen..." He said, voice far too soft to really be heard from where he was standing. The acoustics of that vantage point worked quite well however and since everyone was quiet, he really didn't have to speak loudly at all. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I can see you all lookin' at me and I... look, I didn't do this cause I wanna be in charge... you know? I'm happy so long as that asshole's down there swingin' like a Salami." A wave of laughter went through the crowd at this, which surprised Hancock, given the morbidity of the situation. He felt a little warmer in his chest, buoyed by the feeling of acceptance he received back from the gathered mass. "You guys... you're the ones who gotta pick who you want running this joint."

"It should be you, Hancock." A voice piped up from behind him and Hancock turned to see Adrian looking a little surprised at his own boldness. Seeing that he had gone so far already though, the Ghoul decided to continue and added, "All us guys, we'll follow you all the way. You know that."

"Yeah," Pattie agreed, looking just as firm in his support as Adrian did. "We'll help you whip this town into shape. 'Sides, you got the right idea about what the people want anyhow's."

Hancock felt a strange little lump rise in his throat; a feeling of being both touched and terrified in the same moment. "You guys have lost your senses. I wouldn't even know where to being, I ain't no fucking leader."

"Hey, you know that guy, Plato, boss?" Adrian asked, cocking his head to the side in a rather smarmy manner. He was always proud whenever he could make use of one of the old books he had in his collection. "He said somethin' that makes a lotta sense ta me... 'Them folks who want power... shouldn't get it'. Makes me think that if a fella don't want any power, he's gotta be right for havin' it."

Ryan raised a brow sceptically, looking at Adrian from the corner of his eye. "That's an exact quote is it, brother?"

"Word for fuckin' word." Adrian said nodding seriously. "What it means is, I think, is that someone as moral as you, boss, you can make the good stuff happen. You listen to people, so you'll know what makes them happy. I mean," He moved closer to Ryan and Pattie so they were shoulder to shoulder, clad in their matching suits which made them look slightly gangster and yet touchingly like a family united in common cause. "Ya pulled a bunch of ratbags like us outta the gutter and look where we are now. We took on some of the biggest meanest sons of guns in the Commonwealth and not a single one of us is pushin' up them daisies. Ya even got us nice matchin' threads to wear and all!"

Pattie joined in the nodding now, looking all the more convinced by Adrian's sentimental yet heartfelt concession. "You know, he ain't wrong, boss. Never woulda gotten this far if you ain't led us here by the stirrups."

"Yeah, them folks down there know it too," Ryan added, gesturing with his gun towards the balcony as though any further clarification was required in identifying who this 'they' was. "Won't say too much about dressing us all in matching outfits... I mean, what are we, ya fucking Grandkids?"

Hancock laughed at this, looking down so that they couldn't see just how touched he was by their support. If he had it in him to shed any more tears he might have done so but he was done with crying for a good long while now and wasn't sure if he would be revisiting the practice anytime soon. After all, if a guy was supposed to lead a town full of damaged, troubled, messed up people, you didn't have the luxury of going to water and putting them off now did you?

When he was certain he was composed, he looked out over the gathered faces below, searching out for that one distinct, discriminating face which might cast doubt over the seed of confidence sprouting inside of him. He found Daisy's face in the throng and she was smiling like a proud mother, wiping tears of relief from her face. So many of them seemed to be doing that; how sad it was for people to be so happy to see someone be killed. But how brutal Vic had to have been to have driven an entire populace to such despair that now, only minutes after his death, they stood staring up at some gormless drift in from Diamond City, beseeching him to take the wheel and steer them towards... anything. For anything had to have been better than what they had been forced to live by for all these years.

Hancock picked Melanie's face out of the crowd; saw her relaxed and smoking and for the first time in a long time without a single line or wrinkle in her face. There was no fear anymore; for there was no one living in this town who would ever be able to lay a hand on her again. Meyer gave a little salute in support, his axe resting over one shoulder, one of the local drifter girls smiling receptively from under the other.

Those that did not look too happy about this little development, were of course the expected detractors. Marowski, from the Hotel Rexford. He had made a nice, supple little living from the decadent, indulgent lifestyles of Vic and his goons and didn't appear the least bit happy that a bunch of dirty drifters fresh out of the drain pipes had just roiled in like a bunch of rats and killed everyone with a thick lining of cap in their pockets. Marowski wasn't stupid enough to take sides when the killing started however; as usual, he remained on the sidelines to see who might survive the skirmish, so as to offer his allegiances appropriately. This was most definitely not the result that he had banked (or hoped) on and his was the only real face in the crowd that expressed a hint of dissatisfaction. Everyone else looked fit to burst; ready to party like it was an Indian wedding (another little titbit of random information Adrian found in one of his books).

Hancock glanced up towards the sky and let go of his breath, noticing for the first time that night that his breath was fogging in the cold night air. Would have been nice for there to have been snow... blood would have been easier to have cleaned up when it melted and flowed down the drain.

He wondered a lot of things in that moment; would he be doing this for the right reasons? Would his Pop approve if he had still been alive to see it? Would his mother care, more than she would care that he had taken a drug that was slowly destroying his once handsome features? Would he make a difference? Could he make these people's lives bearable, liveable, peaceful and free? Was he in any position to try and guide an entire town and make decisions on its behalf when his own life was so fraught with indecisiveness, irresponsibility and doubt? When the hell was he going to be able to put all this crap to bed and have a goddamn smoke?

But then, he thought, I have a good heart. And maybe at the end of the day, that's all these people need. At least for a little while.

He smiled to himself, musing on life's little ironies and where they took you without your ever even knowing your direction had changed. To think that someone like Vic, a man who had founded this town and fashioned it to his own desires, could be so blind as to what it was that his people needed, so as to neglect them and inadvertently nurse a budding hatred that would ultimately culminate in his own assassination. And how he, a runaway scamp from Diamond City, could be so much closer to the hearts of these people that they were now gathered before him, willing to give their loyalty and support because they trusted that he would give them what they needed in turn.

Hancock could feel something shift inside of him; something so profoundly deep and powerful, he knew it would change him as a man forever. For a decision is first and foremost made in the rock hard formations of your constitution and once engraved there, it is impossible to erase from the core of your being. He felt at once both stronger and heavier, for the responsibility before him was gargantuan and it cast an impressive shadow over his mind. This town needed a resilient support structure and more than that; it needed someone who understood it.

And suddenly, the words had formed inside of him, though he could hardly fathom where they might have come from. A crazy little part of himself wondered if he might have been channelling the long dead spirit of John Hancock himself because he honestly could not believe that such powerful words could be formed in his mind without some manner of divine influence. Whatever the root of their conception however, he somehow knew that these words held power and that in speaking them, the hearts of the weary and the wounded would be reassured.

So, having made the decision without having made it, John Hancock turned on his heel and stepped back inside the Statehouse. From the top of the credenza, there was a flag folded up inside of a glass tricorn case. He smashed it open, ripped the flag free and brought it outside to where the citizens of Goodneighbor could plainly see it. With a lavish flick of his wrist, he whipped the flag out to its full impressive length and then allowed it to slowly drift and settle over the Statehouse's stone railing. It covered the knotted base of the rope that held the still swaying body of Vic but no one paid attention to such minor things; it was plain that the flag represented their liberty from his oppression and once he had been taken down and disposed of, the flag would remain to carry on its message.

Hancock waited until the flag had settled into place and gave it a few tugs so that it sat just right before leaning both arms on it, looking out over the faces below and wondering just how many more times down the track he would find himself saying these words:

"Of the people, for the people!"

And at long last, they were loud and they were joyous. Knowing that someone would take the responsibility of watching over them, permitted them just cause to relax and to finally celebrate their long awaited and much deserved freedom.

One hell of a Christmas Eve, Hancock thought, tilting back his head to take in the overcast sky, finally allowing himself to feel the cold as it wrapped itself around his withering cheeks. He stood straight and tall in the eyes of the wounded citizens below, reassuring in his unswayable and irreproachable strength. The terrible crushing pressure in their hearts and minds seemed to lift as one, hopeful in the promise of this righteous and grounded young man. They celebrated long into the night; the joyous sounds of their liberation audible for miles around.

Later that night, Hancock took himself to where no one could see him.

He vomited.

He wept with a relief that was physically crippling.

He prayed for the strength of his convictions.

And waited for his hands to stop trembling.

**~**

 

 

 

 

 

 

A/N: Oh man, my Spellcheck really hates the Watchmen's grammar. Haven't seen so many red lines since the last time I took a math test and that was about a hundred and fifty years ago.

 

But never mind that; hello there everyone! Like my history of failing in the more simplistic of mathematic equations, it too has been a long time since I have written any fanfiction. I always loved the Fallout games and despite enjoying them, I didn't feel as pulled into them quite the same way that I did with Fallout 4. There was a lot of love in these characters and a charming depth of feeling to them.

 

What disappointed me however (though I would never suggest that I was in any way disappointed in the game in the least) was that I felt there were some instances that could have been more vastly fleshed out, especially with these companion characters. At times I felt the game drew you close to them and then after a while, they became hallow as your affinity with them was maxed out. Some interactions to me were even crying out for greater involvement from certain characters.

 

In so few words, for me the greatest experience of Fallout 4 was the characters themselves and where the game came to an end, I found myself desperate to have more of them. And if that meant fabricating some shit myself, then so be it. These characters are terrific little chappies and I reckon they deserve a lot more love!

 

This story is obviously a Hancock and Female Lone Survivor story, which naturally not everyone is going to warm to. And that is completely understandable; everyone wants to enjoy their own experience of Fallout and gain pleasure from their own stories, interpretations and immersions. This is simply the story that I wish to tell from my play through of the game. And (not that you can tell from this first chapter) I aim to tell a story that is hopefully as humorous as it is... uh, disgusting, so you can expect things to be a little more uplifting from this point on. That being said, I have a name for my female Lone Survivor and therefore I will not be hosting a little immersion play by writing things such as 'Y/N' and 'E/C' and all that. Just telling the story that I concocted and I strongly encourage and applaud you all to proudly do the same with your own original characters without fear! Why the hell not; it's an open celebration of Fallout 4 at the end of the day and how can you not love that? I include a whole bunch of other random romances in there as well... I love nothing more than a random romance, so I can just about guarantee that I'll probably include some couplings in here that most people probably would never have considered! Nothing so strange as... I don't know, Dogmeat and the Nuka Cola guy but a little diversity, at least!

 

A fair post-warning, as I'm sure you can already appreciate, there are some very mature themes in this story, which may provoke some strong feelings, reactions and triggers. As mentioned at the very beginning, if you are affected by any of these themes, please speak with someone you trust and do not hesitate to seek professional support if required. I myself work in the area of mental health and while I do not offer my services as a professional in this domain, I am always willing and happy to speak with anyone about this story and any feelings, good or bad that it might evoke. You can reach me at my email anytime. 

 

Okay, now that that stuff is out of the way, a few little notes about the above chapter that I'm sure some you are already probably railing about!

 

  
**1.) The Date** : McDonough threw the Ghouls out of Diamond City in 2282, after which (Spoiler alert!!) his brother John McDonough (aka Hancock) cut ties with him and stormed off to Goodneighbor to live the charmed life of being regularly robbed, molested and basically shat on every single day. Now, when first meeting Hancock, he tells the Lone Survivor that he came to the town approximately 10 years ago. The Lone Survivor awakes in the year 2287 (Someone correct me if I'm wrong), which would mean that only five years have passed? Uncertain if I'm just being incredibly stupid and missing something... could be that Hancock just takes way too many chems and doesn't know how to count anymore but hey. So I took some creative liberty and made the date of the Coup against Vic 2278. Once again, I could just have made some really idiotic misinterpretation... feel free to point it out to me (gently, now!) and I can amend it. However, that is the reason why the date does not line up with the Fallout 4 timeline.

 

2.) **Hancock's height:** Oh boy, I can feel the dissatisfaction comin' at me already. And honestly, I can't even say why he's a Shortstop in this story... not that he is especially, I just consider him for some reason to be the shortest of the male companions. In my mind, I imagine him being about five feet eleven inches? I suppose I just find it appealing to think of him as a dynamic little pocket rocket... with small dogs disease. Once again, I can't say why and I'm always one for creating tall male characters. And honestly? I don't think being a little shorter than the other fella's would worry Hancock in the least. He would climb a Super Mutant like it was a jungle gym and rip the big bastards head off without thinking twice. That's just the kind of badass he is. Tell ya what; you can make him tall in your own head if you like. I'm generous like that. Don't let my interpretation spoil your feelings on the matter 

 

3.) **The Nine** : I counted ten Neighborhood Watchmen in Goodneighbor and in my own mind, I imagine these guys have earned some loyalty in order to assume a position of trust such as marshalling a town would entail. It stands to reason then that perhaps some of these guys were involved directly in the coup all those years ago. Most likely not all of them, as the town has grown in that time but a good chunk at least I assume. The original nine would have included Melanie (Who is, spoiler alert: Fahrenheit) Adrian and Hancock. Exempting Adrian, who I have made to dwarf the other characters, the Neighborhood Watch are all based off the character designs they have in game. I just gave them some uh... gangster names.

 

4.) **The uh... kind of rude allusions to Vic's weight** : Yeah okay, they were flat out rude. Now, neither I, nor fictional Hancock I'm sure, would ever make fun of or demean anyone for their weight. Only Vic the dick gets that sort of crap and that's only because everyone else in Goodneighbor was emaciated because he was eating all their fucking food! His weight was directly offensive to everyone else because they were all a bunch of pissed off little skeletons and he and his guards were starving them so they could get plump. Which I imagine is probably hard to do on a diet of Commonwealth food but apparently not impossible. So my darlings, no offense meant and believe you me, I've got a chunky ass myself so I'm certainly not judging!

 

5.) **How Hancock became Mayor:** It does say in the game that he is 'The self-appointed Mayor' and that this was 'accepted by everyone'. The way I look at it, just from my interpretation of Hancock's character, is that he is not the kind of individual who has the arrogance to assume that he would be the best thing for the town and I can't see him jumping up and down and screaming for the chance to be mayor. Given that he sees himself as a man 'of the people' I feel that he would have assumed the mantle, if he most honestly felt that this is genuinely what the folks of Goodneighbor wanted. That to me would be more in his character than just puffing his chest out and parading around the Statehouse balcony like a big decrepit Peacock. But then again, who knows? He may very well have been a precocious little burke when he was younger and I'm just giving him too much credit.

 

That's it for the time being and since I'm now onto my third glass of wine and the hubby's come home from work puking like a wino, I guess I should be wrapping things up. Now, I've been working on this story for some months already and as such most has already been written in advance. Shouldn't be too long before the next chapter is tidied up, tarted up and ready for the ball. A warning in advance, this is the only chapter written in third person. The rest are alternating first person between various characters. How is this gonna work? Eh, I've done it once before, I'll give it a bash and see what happens.

 

Thanks for taking a peek guys and I'll hopefully see you next time. Take it easy until then, my lovelies  
~ Madam Mortis ~

 

 


	2. A Spoonful of Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Told from Hancock's POV: Whilst visiting the Memory Den he recalls time spent with the Sole Survivor and reflects on his life now in general. Things have changed a great deal in the past eleven years, though nothing so significantly as he himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Fallout 4 or any of the characters of its franchise. I wish I could lay claim to some of the Watchmen and the Female Sole Survivor but I bet even they’ve got the big trademark stamp firmly plastered on their little butts. Ah well, I’ll just be content with borrowing them for a while! I'll try and be gentle.
> 
> A/N: Good grief, it’s true what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men. In my head, this chapter had one fricken line; “Hancock chews over memories in the memory den” and look what happens! Guess it just goes to show how fun it is to write as Hancock; though it isn’t easy. It’s hard to try and be smart, clever, charismatic and badass all at the same time.  
> Just for the sake of being clear, the main story (exempting flashbacks, which will be appropriately marked) is set a year and two months after the Female Sole Survivor emerges from cryostasis and goes bumbling about the Commonwealth. Hey, I figure all the stuff you actually do would in reality take much longer than they make it seem in the actual game, especially without a car to fang around in!
> 
> Anyhow, as the story now goes, first person chapters will have the narrators name appear above it. Pretty straight forward, I hope! You’re probably all far too busy enjoying building robots in Automaton at the moment to worry too much but I hope you have a nice read, all the same. The Female Sole Survivor is introduced in this chapter and it is much less gory and nasty than the first. I’ll try and make up for that later on. And with that, see you on the other side, folks!

> " _Some may call it a curse, a life like mine_
> 
> _But others, a blessing_
> 
> _It's certainly a lonely life_
> 
> _But a fulfilling one at best_
> 
> _It's my cross to bear_
> 
> _But I bear it gladly_
> 
> _Someone has to take a stand against evil_
> 
> _Why should it not be me?” – **Within Temptation ‘Why not me?’**_

****

** John Hancock **

**_Goodneighbor – Current Day…_ **

The viewing screen of the memory pod swung back, giving me sufficient room in which to sit my ass up. But I remained where I was, wanting to take stock and pull my thoughts together properly before I exited the lounger. Not to mention that my eyes were a little damp and I sure as shit didn’t need anyone seeing that and running off to gossip about. _“Big Bad Mayor bawls in Memory Den.”_ Great… Marowski’s goons would be on me faster than a bad case of dysentery.

I used my sleeve to wipe beneath my eyes. Strange that I couldn’t recall the point at which I had started sooking but I guess that’s the entire point of the memory loungers. You’re supposed to integrate almost entirely with the memory itself, not remained attached in any capacity to your suspended body. How any of this shit works, I don’t half wonder.

I sighed deeply, squeezing my eyes shut and pinching the space between my brows to try and ease the dull ache throbbing inside of my skull. I don’t know how Kenny-boy managed hopping into these things all the time. Immersing yourself in the past had its perks sure, but the nascent brain pain that followed each and every viewing sure as hell wasn’t one of them. It might have only lasted for five minutes but they were five minutes of throbbing equivalent to the world’s worst hangover.

On this occasion, I wasn’t sure that the trade-off had been worth it. Looking back on Vic’s usurping was supposed to remind me of where I had come from and what sacrifices were required to get to this point. Instead, the guy in my memories looked almost a completely different person.

I say ‘almost’ because there was a lot there that I could still identify with; that unrelenting drive, the uncompromising desire to punish those who had done wrong by others, the fondness he held for the people he dearly wanted to protect.

He was so… young though. And ripe with all the flaky, (no pun intended) unappealing attributes that youth brings to ride. He was much angrier and far more afraid of everything around him. Afraid to fail and let everyone down. He was a man who threw himself around with reckless abandon, without pausing to truly consider the consequences of his actions. He fired a fucking double barrel _one-handed_ , for gods sake.

It had been hard to relive that night. It remains to this day one of the memories that I have most stubbornly refused to access because my aging recollection of it was preferable to the reality. In my mind, it always seemed kind of heroic and romanticized; taking on the man and not only winning, but not losing a single person from our side. In reality, it was a merciless, bloody and graceless bloodbath.

You couldn’t deny that the town had faired a great deal better. It was still troubled in its way but it was most certainly no longer the home to the unprecedented bullying, lynches, rapes and indiscriminate victimization that were its flavor of the past. I thought I’d pulled it together pretty well whilst acting as the Mayor.

At least, I hope to God that I had.

The question remained unanswered though: _Had_ I been a stronger person then? Was there some indiscernible spark that rambunctious thirty-six year old me held which compelled others in a way that I had now lost? Was I actually a _good_ mayor or was I just _better_ in comparison to Vic? Time was the major defining factor in these cases of course and once the euphoria of being freed from under the rule of an oppressive tyrant had ebbed, perhaps people might start to express dissatisfaction with how I was running things.

I don’t know and besides, it wasn’t really the point of my taking a stroll down memory lane, now was it? What I had needed to see, or rather, needed to _feel_ was that imperceptible little something that had sustained me in a time when I felt the weight of so much desperate hope bearing down on me.

I guess what it all boiled down to was that past Hancock had the liberty of knowing he had nothing to lose by taking action against Vic and his boys. The lives of his fellow drifters were important of course but they’d all signed the same metaphorical contract to get in there and give their hardest or die trying. We all knew that there was no point in continuing to live in this world if the best it had to offer was the constant fear of looking over your shoulder. That sort of clarity is what it takes to imbue a man with a whole shit tonne of ‘what the fuck’, which can fuel the fire of determination in his gut for a damned long time.

When it all burns out though and there’s no one left to rail against, you find out that life itself is the hardest, longest battle you’ve ever gotta fight on nothing but a belly of coals. ‘ _The banality of evil’_ I heard some wise ass say once and I still can’t help but think that it’s applicable; pompous though it is. We had gained our freedom from Vic’s tyranny and re-established Goodneighbor as a town of liberty and tolerance; free from prejudicial bullshit and dictatorial belligerence. Where everyone could feel free to be who they are, to live without judgement.

Most of the time… I think it worked. I’m damn sure I was a much better Mayor than Vic, though this isn’t a call I make without ample evidence to support it. It took a few years to really nut out the kinks and there was the occasional, unavoidable snag where some japed asshole interpreted ‘ _everyone’s welcome’_ as ‘ _I’ll do whatever the hell I goddamn want at the expense of everyone else’_. Eventually, my hands stopped shaking when I had put enough of these pricks down. I also stopped going on benders every other night and wiping myself out with a cocktail of chems, alcohol and the occasional woman who was able to pretend she didn’t care that I had a fast accelerating state of necrosis. I got a little bit dozier, a bit more chilled out. I started taking the odd nap during the afternoon, simply because I had nothing better to do.

I was getting old. And I was bored with the same old routine. Even looking over my shoulder for the next _coup de grâce_ was getting tedious. I would go to ground for Goodneighbor and the folks who live there in a New Vegas minute but in the last few years or so, I had started to feel like something was… just missing. It niggled beneath my skin and pierced my thoughts like the barb of a Bloodbug's stinger.

It felt like… I don’t quite know how to describe it. Like I’d gone my entire life without tasting sugar or some such thing. And now, by pure chance, someone had dropped a spoonful of it into my coffee one morning and now I could not imagine how I had ever before functioned without it. A person can go for so long, not struggling in the least but also not knowing how something might improve their life, simply because they have never been exposed to it. Looking back, I could now appreciate how bitter everything had been in comparison to how sweet the world now tasted. Hell, eleven years ago I might have been one of the biggest badasses strutting his stuff but trying to remind myself of the fact sure as shit didn’t make the prospect of a sugar-free future any more appealing.

I’m beating around the bush here. You all know what this is about. Just a fancy way of saying that old cliché finally found John Hancock and bit him square on his necrotic ass.

It was a girl… well, a woman, actually. Isn’t it always? How many stories in history, I wonder, are bedecked with that old chestnut: A man changes his life and becomes a better, more complete person because some hot little totty came sweeping into his world and proved to be somehow more amazing than any other woman he’s ever met, blah fucking _blah._

Though I knew it wouldn’t help and it was completely counterproductive to what I had set out to do in the first place, I reached over and re-entered my personal code into the memory pods manual key command. I’m sure Irma and the doc wouldn’t be impressed if they caught wind of me taking liberties like this; I had only paid for the lone Immersion after all but I figured I’d just slap some extra caps in their hands before I left to make up the difference.

I rested my head back down into the cushioned support, making room for the viewing screen to rotate back down into place before my eyes. I barely felt the intrusion of the spider web thin cranial wires as they slid into the base of my skull but then of course, you were never supposed to. They injected a mild numbing agent the moment they pierced your skin, which was a feeling I’m sure a lot of people came to experience just as much as the subsequent mental soaking.

The screen displayed a black and white count down code, which I focused on following so as to distract myself from the strange stinging feeling inside of my skull. Those of course were the wires piercing their way through the spinal cord and accessing the parts of my brain that contained segments of my memories. Dr Armani tried to explain it to me once and though I certainly didn’t consider myself stupid by any stretch, it would have taken me more than my usual allotment of Mentats to try and keep up with her on the subject. She eventually boiled it down in layman’s terms to the brain having different ‘compartments’ like a wardrobe; one shelf in which socks were kept, another in which trousers were kept and so on and so forth. Together, an item from each compartment could make up an entire ensemble but you weren’t able to get all these various pieces just from the one place, which is why the wires needed to insert themselves in several different parts of the brain. As a man who only had one outfit to his name, this analogy worked best in theory for me. Especially when that outfits regular home was either slung on the edge of a bedframe or bundled up on the floor in easy reach of a groping, hangover affected arm. But I got her meaning all the same.

The screen itself did not actually show the memory of course, but acted as a kind of ‘trance inducing device’? I think that’s how the doc referred to it anyway. One of the wires was responsible for sinking your current consciousness into the memory, whilst the screen aided in lulling you into the hypnotic state required for full immersion. I found that if I had taken any chems prior to entering the memory pod, I myself was unable to immerse entirely, especially if the Chem had a stimulant effect. A drink actually aided it a great deal though not so much as to alter your consciousness entirely. Tricky stuff, to be sure. Not sure how these girls got their heads around it but they were definitely sitting comfortable on the money it brought them.

My one real job was to focus on the memory I wanted to relive; a specific date was good but most folks don’t have a perfect photographic memory of the exact time and date certain shit happened to them. Ongoing history of Chem use, notwithstanding. A visual image was fine and I dithered for a second on what I was after exactly before settling on an event that was only two months prior. I felt one last resonating sting as I focused on that memory and squinted my eyes to sharpen my vision on the numbers counting down before me. I could feel myself sinking under now, almost like falling asleep under the influence of a glass of half decent scotch and a shot of Med-X.

And as quick as I had seemed to fall asleep, I was awake again and fully entrenched behind the eyes of one John Hancock; two months younger. It was always a disorienting feeling, for you had absolutely no control over the memory itself; you were simply a passenger behind your own eyes, held hostage to the past decisions and actions of the you that came before. What particularly bugged me was the blinking; you never notice when you do it yourself but you sure as shit notice it when you have to sit there, trying to watch something and a big curtain of black comes crashing down.

Two-months younger Hancock was staring out at a particularly dreary landscape as well; a thunderous radiation storm, surmounting with thick sleets of rain that pounded the landscape like slaps from a Behemeth’s hand. Everything frothed and fettered with that repugnant green glow, the sky lanced by sharp streaks of lightening. There was an insistent ticking noise coming from behind him as well, which sounded almost like the far off cracking of machine gun fire. It was a Pip-Boy, responding in its usual ‘dibber-dobber’ fashion to the radiation in the air.

“Hang around in this for much longer, you’re gonna end up looking like me,” I had said, taking a step back further so as to shield myself beneath the lip of the bus shelter under which we had taken cover. I felt pressure on my lips and then the dry, full feeling of tobacco hitting the back of my throat before filling my lungs. He – _I_ – exhaled out into the evening air, watching the push of the rain catch the smoke and obliterate it from existence. “Unless of course you’re looking to join the Brotherhood of Ghoul’s, in which case I think you’re going about it the wrong way, chicken.”

There was an unimpressed snort from behind me, followed by what sounded to be a rhythmic stamping of feet to pavement. You know, what people do when they’re cold to try and warm themselves up. Not that it was cold mind you; the air was ridiculously muggy but anyone is likely to catch a chill when you get caught unexpectedly in the wet.

“Don’t know if I could pull it off as well as you do, Hancock,” She muttered and I could even hear the little teasing smile in her voice as she said it. It made my heart beat that tiny bit faster, just to hear that voice again; tinged even as it was with weariness and thinly veiled irritation. “Haven’t got half the charisma or a third of the confidence… I’d be one of those ones with their head buried in a book, like you said. Trying to cake on half a pound of makeup while reading _Grognak the Barbarian_ ; tracing _Hotrod Red_ lipstick around my mouth like a fucking funhouse clown. Jesus, I’d be sniped from a quarter mile away!”

We both laughed at this, acknowledging, I think, that this would have been entirely in character for her. I turned in the memory to offer her the cigarette and she slowly eased into the corner of my vision, before a blink crashed down and blocked her out entirely for a second longer. When my eyelids shot back up, she was centre focus, taking the smoke from between my fingers with two of her own. Her fingers shook as she brought it to her lips, thanking me before sucking the smoke back into her lungs. The me of the past nodded without much consideration, whilst the me who perched hostage behind his eyes drew on the memory of her with a relish comparable only to a man who, having been dying of thirst in the Wasteland, was now handed a bottle of cold Purified Water. Cap peeled back and all.

Evelyn Anne Hallows. Or Eve, as she preferred to be known, not that I called her by her actual name very often. Only when things were getting pretty heavy and required a toning down of our usual playful, light hearted banter. Most everyone had some sort of nickname for her, all of which she responded to. Sometimes, she actually looked confused by her given name, which always made me laugh when she failed to adhere to it a couple of times.

She looked rather more miserable on this occasion than was usual for her; short, messy blonde hair clinging to her forehead and lying flat against her skull from where the rain had battered her, black eye makeup running in rivulets down over her cheeks, lipstick smeared and concealer blotted away in places. She was very open about using makeup and confessed to enjoying it, which I could only respect because I could see it took a hell of a lot of discipline and determination to paint yourself up like that regularly. Especially when you were running around the Wasteland where no one gave a fuck how pretty you looked. Even on this occasion, when it had just been the two of us and all the others had parted ways temporarily to attend to their various responsibilities, she kept up the usual routine.

I wondered perhaps if part of her preoccupation with artificially prettying herself up, was to do with the fact that she was a little bit boyish in appearance (her words, not mine mind you). With her short, shaggy blonde hair, defined jawline and slightly broad shoulders, she did at a distance have the appearance of a young lad running about, especially since she predominately favoured jeans, boots, shirts and, on occasion, a tattered old fur rimmed winter jacket. She also had a natural copper skin tone, which gave her the appearance of a farm hand who was regularly out under the sun working the crop rotation. She joked about this offhandedly and yet with a reoccurrence which suggested she was that slightest bit insecure about her appearance at times.

Not that I could really get my head around it to be honest; to me, she looked like a mature woman in her late twenties (which she was, though how mature she was depended on how she chose to behave on any given occasion). Not to mention she was positively  _stacked._ Her breasts (which she hated) were full and her hips were wide; arching out from a perfectly pinched waistline and giving further emphasis to her round, apple shaped ass. 

She was self-conscious about her size at times; because she was bigger than the other girls we had travelled with and most other women in the Wasteland aside. Not that she was fat... sturdy, would probably be the more appropriate word. Like her... bones had been made larger and her body was simply forced to work around what had been provided. But she was strong and fit and in great shape; even with a somewhat round, soft, post-pregnancy tummy (in which she kept copious litres of wine, mind you) .

Up close, even without makeup it was easy to see that she was a woman. Well… at least it was to me but I am indeed a special case; I could detect a woman in the middle of the Glowing Sea with a blindfold on and both hands strapped to the small of my back whilst a Radscorpion played a one man percussive rendition of _Bravura_ on my unprotected ribcage.

I thought Eve was extremely pretty, regardless of whether she was lathered with makeup or not. Her smoky eyes and plum colored lipstick gave her a kind of individualized rebellious look that naturally appealed to an old agitator like me. Plus, it was an absolute crack up whenever we had to jump in the water, swim somewhere or we got stuck in the rain like on this occasion because it went absolutely fucking everywhere and I got to torment the ever loving shit out of her.

Even as a spectator in my own memory, I could feel the lips of my past self quirking up as I took her ruffled visage in. I mean, don’t get me wrong in the fun I take at her expense; that’s just the kind of relationship that we had. Sort of… lovingly sadistic, you might say.

She took another puff of the cigarette and sighed, raising her head to look at me with the same expression her pooch might have done if he had been caught out in the wet. _That_ was what I had been thinking of in particular when I had chosen this memory; _this_ moment. I loved this girls eyes; big, wide and sharply angled upward in the corners. _Radstag eyes_ , I had thought from the first moment I had met her, for she nearly always had this big dewy expression of startled perplexity. (She differed on this point, stating that she had ‘the eyes of a frog that looked like it was being interfered with’, which obliterated any sense of innocence I fancied ever seeing there).

Unlike a Radstag however, her eyes were green; a yellow-tinted green, which she herself equated to ‘stale mustard’. (In case it wasn't half obvious; this girl is hardly keen on herself. No pun intended). It wasn’t a color one got to see very often in the Wasteland, except on an evening like that one when the sky was lit up with the glow of the irradiated rain, pierced by the strobes of lightning flung in from the Glowing Sea.

With most of her makeup having run off of her face, the bruises adorning her flesh were lain bare for introspection. There was a black shadow surrounding one eye and a thicker, almost purple discoloration that plumped the right hand side of her lovely, curved lips. Her cheekbone was still slightly swollen and the bridge of her nose had a dark band across it; which bled down into the smoky awnings she had carefully brushed into place on her eyelids that very morning. 

None of these injuries were funny, of course and the memory of how they had come about was perhaps one of the very worst I had ever retained. They ran congruent with the terrible itching burn that assailed my own back; the tight, stretchy pull from where my already damaged flesh was stalwartly attempting to bind itself back together. But my past self was chuckling all the same; amused I think by her expression, rathe than the sad condition of her face and body. Nonetheless, I felt a little annoyed with past Hancock for ruining the moment. Clearly he had yet had to experience any real length of time apart from her and as such there was no reverence for her company whatsoever.

Eve narrowed those eyes now in his (my) direction, staring down the line of her cheek in that reproachful way an animal might do just before it decides whether to go you or not. “What are you laughing at?” She almost whispered, her voice taking on an intentionally humorous baritone like quality.

“You,” I had responded, looking in the other direction, shoulders shaking in response to my increasing chuckles. “Ya look a fucking fright, Munch.”

I couldn’t see her expression in response to this but I knew exactly what it would have been; she would have dropped her mouth open into a near perfect oval of offense whilst glaring up from beneath her brows. Sure enough, when Past Hancock dared to glance back that was exactly what we were confronted with. It wasn’t true offense, of course. She was too down to earth to take herself too seriously but she liked to play the game as much as I did.

“Oh… well I am _so_ sorry, John.” She said, climbing to her feet and dusting her backside off as she approached. She leaned in close to jab the cigarette back between my lips, her own mouth quirking tellingly off to the side in that way it did when she was trying not to laugh. “What is the world coming to, when a sexy stud like yourself has to be seen in the company of some fat old trot like me? Hopefully we don’t run into someone you know.”

I inhaled on the cigarette and puffed the smoke out around it, wondering if she had left a ring of lipstick around the filter as usual. Sometimes it came off on my own lips, which more often than not led to a few accusations. None of which were true sadly but I liked to indulge them all the same.

“I’ll just pretend I don’t know ya,” I had said, taking the last draw from the cigarette before dropping it to the ground and stomping it out with my foot. “Seriously though, I don’t reckon this storm is gonna be lettin’ up anytime soon. And it’s startin’ to get dark. What say we find a place to hunker down for the night, hit the trail up again first thing in the ‘morrow?”

Eve didn’t look entirely pleased by this and I wagered it was because she wasn’t a huge fan of sitting still for too long. It hadn’t been a particularly productive day I remembered; we had been waylaid by just about every scumbag the Commonwealth had cared to toss in our direction and now the radiation storm had settled in over head with no sign of budging. Having nothing in particular to show for a good concentrated eight hours worth of moseying would have been bugging the shit out of her, I’m sure.

With a sigh, she checked the map on her Pipboy, using her finger to pull the screen back and forth to highlight possible nearby locations. A crash of lighting overhead made her draw her shoulders in momentarily but she refocused her attentions with double the intensity. Girl had taken on a Death Claw and still got nervy in thunderstorms; go figure.

“There’s a building close by… Cambridge Campus diner. Should give us some better coverage than this old bus stop.”

“Cool,” I said, reaching over to grab my duffel bag from the bus seat and slinging the strap over my shoulder. I jostled it around until the strap sat comfortable across the line of my chest before picking up my double barrelled shotgun from where it had been leaning against the shelter wall. I took a moment to check it over. “Maybe we can grab dinner while we’re there. I’ll shout ya a piece of pie.”

Eve groaned dramatically as she snatched up her own bag and hurled it onto her back with such force she nearly toppled right off of her feet. “Ugh, don’t even joke about that. I know for you guys that the idea of even eating pie is just having a lend of yourselves but so help me God, I’d cut one of your legs off right now if it got me just one piece of pumpkin pie with whipped cream on top.” She sighed as I helped her adjust her pack, though she really didn’t deserve it after revealing just how little she thought of me and my legs. “FYI, a pumpkin is kinda like a gourd… only a gourd is sweeter and-”

“Munch? I couldn’t honestly give two fucks,” I said, grabbing the trailing sleeve of her packs adjustment strap and yanking it hard so that it pulled a tight, dividing line between the slopes of her breasts. She yelped as the force brought her up to the tips of her toes and then grunted as I set the bag flush against her spine and ruffled the back of her head. “There. Fucking thing was driving me nuts, bouncing around all over the place while you were running. Lucky you haven’t lost half your shit. Now, how far is the diner from here?”

“A good hop, skip and a jump to the South of us,” Eve muttered, running her hand back through her hair to straighten up the areas where I had fluffed it. She saw my less than impressed expression I suppose and gave an unapologetic shrug of her shoulders. “I’m not good with directions, you know this! Just go _that_ way!” She snapped, jabbing her hand in a vague direction I’m pretty certain encompassed all the cardinal points.

“Yeah okay… we’ll just run around like dipshits in the rain and get ourselves sniped by the one Super mutant who knows how to aim a gun in any other direction but himself.” I grumbled, lifting one brow to show exactly what I thought of this concept. Eve hooked one leg around the other and then tilted dramatically towards me, forcing her shoulder against my chest with enough force to send me stumbling back into the shelter wall. The entire thing shook and quaked in time with a crash of thunder from up above, which I think gave her more of a fright than it did me. “Oi, cut that shit out and take your Rad-X. If this storm keeps going the way it’s going, you’ll end up looking as sexy as me soon and you know I don’t take rivalry well, young madam.”

Eve chuckled as she unbuckled one of her belt pouches and pulled out a sheathe of Rad-X tablets, popping one from the foil blister before tossing it into her mouth. She gave a few chomps, turning the thick pill to what I recall was a horrible, bitter paste. Naturally, it had been a while since I had been required to use the things myself.

“Ugh,” She complained, neck elongating like some distressed bird as she choked the mess down without anything to chase it. “God, I wish I had a glass of wine to wash that shit back. Tastes like the asshole end of a Brahmin.”

I smirked at her and gave a little chuckle. “I’m tempted to ask how you know what the asshole end of a Brahman tastes like Munch but I’m guessing some things are better off not knowing, huh?”

Instead of smacking me or getting all insensitive, Eve just returned my smile and made a V shape with her middle and index fingers, placing them against her chin. “Let’s just say a girl can get awful lonely out on the open road when she’s only got herself for company,” She said, sticking her tongue out between her two fingers in a lewd gesture I’m almost certain she had learned from me. “Good thing I got you along now, right?”

I had laughed at this, though I could feel even in the memory what the insinuation of those words and that gesture had done to me. Not for the joking reference to having applied any part of her anatomy in an intimate fashion towards a passing Brahmin but to almost suggest that _I_ was in a position to appease these more base carnal desires.

Nothing had happened between us in this sense. Not… directly, anyway. There were always the little jokes, the allusions, the oft reciprocated flirtation here and there. Sometimes, there was even the physical closeness, which bordered on that next critical step yet never quite tilted over.

It was fucking frustrating but that’s what happened when you somehow became best buds with the person you were trying to commando roll into bed with; you ended up drinking beer, cracking jokes and making a pillow fort rather than fucking each others brains out. Sadly. I would have been happy to have done all four in one evening if I’d been given the option but there you go.

“Well I’m sure the Brahmin population has been resting easier since I got on board,” I had said, somehow keeping a calm, temperate tone in spite of the big hormonal flush that made my body feel way too warm in my flash little coat. I wondered then, as I wonder now, whether the ignorant bloody girl had any idea as to what I was thinking. “And I’ll sure as shit complain a lot less. Now, let’s get moving before you go and say something even more disturbing than the crap you just came out with.”

“Seriously, darl? In this world, it disturbs me to think that somewhere out there, someone right now is putting the actual moves on a Brahmin rather than just joking about it.” Her big eyes lit up then and she turned to me with that look of wonderment she only ever got when she was about to say something really fucking stupid. “Heh, get it? Putting the _moo-ves_ on a Brahmin?”

I groaned, sweeping my hat off of my head and giving it a shake to dislodge any remaining water particles that might have been clinging to it. “Jesus H. Christ… all the radiation in that water must have run down into your ears and gone straight into your brain. Here,” I said, plonking my hat down onto her head and twisting it from side to side, like fitting a cork back into a bottle. “Take this. Because I’m sure as shit not gonna spend the rest of our travels listening to those stupid cracks.”

She smiled at me and adjusted the hat with a little wink of one of her heavily smeared eyes. “My goodness… you’re giving me your fancy little tricorner? What an honor!” She gave a mocking sweep of her arm. “I shall try to prove myself worthy of it, Guv na.”

“Then maybe try and be a little less sarcastic,” I said, reaching out to pull the brim of the hat down so that it covered her eyes. “It’s a fucking low class form of humor. And keep in mind, you get shot out there and I’m comin’ to fetch it back.”

“You’re all heart, honey.” She muttered, pushing the hat back up so that her eyes were clear, before reaching down to tug her sidearm out of her holster. I resisted taking it off of her and checking it over, knowing that she needed to keep her skills sharp for whenever I wasn’t around but it was hard to watch her struggle all the same.

Eve was relatively proficient at using a firearm; a skill she had her Pop to thank for, she had told me. Her hand eye coordination was bang on and she had relatively good aim when it came to taking something down; able to keep her arms and body steady whilst firing a shot. But she had been taught mostly to fire a weapon after it had been plonked into her hands and had learnt very little else about reloading and maintenance. Discounting a rifle, which had been the gun her father had mostly used on his people's reservation and the one with which she had learned to shoot in the first place. Pistols, shotguns and everything else aside, she struggled with the loading and routine upkeep of.

Stubborn as a backed up Brahmin though, she had insisted on learning so that she was able to take care of matters herself if there was no one around to help her. I could understand this; having done the very same thing when I’d been out training in the Wasteland with the Nine. Being self-sufficient is essential to keeping oneself alive when push comes to shove.

But she was so fucking unco that it drove me to blithering distraction sometimes. Girl would have a Suicider bearing down on her and she wouldn’t have a problem plugging it between the eyes but if the clip came up empty, whelp… better hope your hammies are up to the task of hauling you outta there. ‘Cause there ain’t no way she was reloading in time to stop that big bastard blowing his top.

I watched as quietly and as patiently as I was able; biting back a sigh that threatened to sneak out when I saw her fumble one of the .44 bullets out of the six slot cylinder, sending it tumbling towards the ground. I gently pinned it down with my foot, aborting my own low class sarcastic response as she scooped the bullet up with a bashful ‘Cheers’ and set to work rehoming it inside of the weapon.

Nice gun too, it was. Used to belong to Kellogg; a mercenary hired by the Institute. A .44 Magnum revolver had the stopping power to put a Yaoi Gui on its ass you hit it in just the right spot and most folks would seize up just from having this badass hand cannon foisted in their near direction.

Saved Eve’s life more times than she could count, I’m sure. Which is both ironic and devastating when you consider the stark reality; that this was the gun that had been used to kill her husband. To put him down so that he posed no further resistance in stealing away their infant child and sequestering him off into the dark recesses of the Institute.

I’m not sure how she had the strength to even touch the damn thing, to be honest. Girl was strange sometimes; possessing an unrivalled ability to kind of just… switch off from shit that’d have most others curled in a ball, sinking their knees up into their mouths and disappearing inside of themselves. Not that she was cold; far from it actually. She was probably the warmest, most caring person I had met. Almost a little too much actually, which I think is why we hardly ever made any real progress towards the Institute. Lots of needy people out in the Commonwealth and whilst I was always keen to lend a hand, Eve was almost… how you say? _Demented,_ I think is the only word that adequately sums it up. Positively, undeniable, irreparably _demented_ in her desire to fill the much unwanted role of ‘Commonwealth Fixer Upper’. Woman could not say ‘no’. (Which is a theory I would have loved to have put to the test in a more private, _naked_ setting).

It was an endearing trait and demonstrably admirable… that is until you’ve forced to run halfway across the fucking Wasteland with her in search of motorized pony parts and you start to wonder to yourself, _‘Could the sex_ ever _be worth this many Stingwing bites?’_

Yet in spite of this rampant, frothing, rabies like sensitivity, Eve carried on her hip the very gun that had taken her husbands’ life and used it without any observable difficulties when dispensing with her foes. I wondered for a while whether things hadn't been all that peachy with her old man; perhaps he had belted her the odd time and she had some sort of odd gratitude towards the gun for doing away with him. (I had since learnt that this was a baseless assumption and he had in fact never even grabbed her in anger. It’s not flattering to admit that there was a part of me that had hoped he had been a bastard in some measure. I mean, I’d had some stiff competition for a woman’s attention before but a heroic husband who served in the war and died to save your baby, _definitely_ leads the pack).

Whatever the case, Eve now favoured this gun and it was pointless to read too much into her seeming lack of emotion surrounding it. Girl was still operating on a degree of auto-pilot, navigating through a thick cloud of shock, which would rend her world opaque and inscrutable for fuck knows how long to come. Not to mention that she wasn’t silly or naïve; she had a solid appreciation for just getting on with shit and not wasting things simply because there might be something about it that’s off putting. Thank god she was sensible in this regard. If some flighty fucking space case bimbo came crawling out of that Vault looking for someone to repair her hair extensions (Apparently folks back in Eve’s time actually _did_ that sort of shit) the bitch wouldn’t have lasted five minutes. A certain amount of practicality always won out at the end of the day and sentimentality was best enjoyed behind closed doors, when there was little at stake to be lost from bawling over an old dish-rag that apparently meant ‘so much’ and was too painful to either keep or throw away.

I drifted back out of my musings and refocused on the memory, returning once more to Past-Hancock’s feelings of impatience and frustration as Eve finally reloaded the pistol and clicked the cylindrical chamber back into place. She holstered it and then (having seen my raised brow, I suppose) adjusted her belt so that the barrel of the gun was pointed back behind her and not out along the line of her thigh.

“I know, I know, you don’t need to say it,” She grumbled, putting a hand out towards my mouth which was indeed open to admonish her. “Yeah, I’m too slow at the reload and yeah I could blow my leg off if I don’t holster the gun right. _‘Never point that shit at anythin’ you ain’t intending to put to bed’_. You sound just like my Dad when you go on with that crap.”

I didn’t bother hiding my impatience with her this time and gave her an unfiltered expression of reproach. “Far be it from me ta wanna nag like your Pop and our old buddy Nick but you’ll be grateful for me offloading all this ‘crap’ if it prevents you getting shot again, missy. You might remember that it wasn’t that much fun.”

She groaned at this, clearly taking in the memory of the event as soon as I had said it. “That’s for damn sure. Wouldn’t much fancy that again.”

“Well then, learn to take good advice when you hear it,” I said, sounding a little prudish even to my own ears and hoping that this wasn’t a trend I had developed in order to compensate for Nick’s absence. I reached over to give Eve a little cluck on the chin, feeling for just a moment the thick scarring that marred her skin there; a knitted slash wound that ran up to bare millimetres below her painted lips. It was such a shame… not that she was any less pretty to me, of course. “Let’s get goin’, kiddo. Soon as we settle our asses down, we’ll crack us open a few bottles of good times.”

“Hell yeah,” She said, smirking as she tugged my hat down lower over her brow before sliding her pistol out from her holster and steadying it with both hands by her side, pulling the safety into place with a slow reverential pluck of her thumb. Not sure why she felt the need to holster it in the first place but hey… I was slowly learning with Eve not to expect a great deal of common sense. “I’ll keep an eye out to the left… you watch the right.”

“Gotcha,” I said and then, we shelved our need to communicate further and sank instead into that deeply familiar silence as we panned our eyes over the scene before us. Visibility was shit and I couldn’t see a damned thing past a good ten feet, which meant we were putting ourselves at a hell of a risk ducking out to find alternative shelter. Hanging around underneath a bus stop all night wasn’t exactly strategic either. Not to mention I was jonesing for a nap.

We both burst out into the downpour in almost the same instance, keeping a good comfortable three or four feet apart and focusing our weapons dramatically off to the side, with the occasional circle around to build a good three-sixty view of the area. The positive thing was, that if _we_ were having this much trouble seeing in the rain, it was most likely that anything else out there wasn’t going to making much of us either. A roaming animal might hear us splashing along however and there was a shit ton of hungry critters out there that wouldn’t mind conditions being a little damp.

My head and shoulders were soaking within the first minute of being out there and my socks felt saturated inside my already far too clammy shoes. I was also painfully aware of the fact that I would probably start to smell before too long, having exposed my affected flesh to the water without first treating it with the standard skin care supplies that all Ghouls (well, at least the considerate, hygienic ones) were encouraged to use. Call me a nancy if you want but I wasn’t altogether relishing the thought of stinking like a wet hound in front of the woman I fancied.

I wished desperately and not for the first time, that I could dim some of my connection to the experiences of my past self, hating that I was essentially chained back into that horrible moist squishiness in my shoes, at the coldness of the rain hitting my hairless scalp and running rivulets down my neck. Don’t get me wrong; a man can be a romantic and be willing to put himself through absolutely any hell just to get a good look at his girl one more time. But having a cold drop of water slide down into the crack of your ass sure throws that sentiment into debate, I’ll tell you that much.

Eve’s pip boy was ticking away madly off to my left as we ran; clearly unimpressed by its owners blatant exposure to the irradiated rain thundering down liberally on top of her. Naturally, as a Ghoul, radiation had no effect on me and it did in fact made me feel a little better if I was nursing any injuries. But to a little Smoothskin like her? That shit wasn’t good and could make a body feel sick in under no time. Hence the reason I had dropped my hat on her head when I did. Rad-X could do so much but keeping your head outta the muck in the first place was a much smarter choice than just bumbling on out into it and taking a full faced shower.

No one was shooting at us yet, which was always a good sign, though I wondered how long our luck would last. It would be the first full hour of the day that no one had tried to kill us… be good to keep the streak going.

But of course… that was the Commonwealth. This was a land that was fully determined to kick the human races ass and it didn’t take much of a breather from its desire to do so. The rain was pounding the earth so hard that I didn’t hear the approach myself, though the footfalls of this particular predator weren’t particularly loud even on a clear day. What I did hear, was Eve’s cry of; “DOG! _TEN O_!” and then the quick, sharp displacing 'BOOM' of her weapon.

When communicating with one another during a combat situation, we had agreed early on to keep things as simple as possible: Name the threat, name the direction. We didn’t even waste breath by saying ‘o’clock’, shortening it instead to just the number and O. What I understood from Eve’s directions was that a wild Mongrel had just made ground on us and was only a short swivel to the left for myself to bring it into my sights. What I was able to figure out for myself was that the weather had severely limited our vision to a good few meters at best; so this asshole was already up nice and tight in our business.

Sure enough, in the second it took me to swing around and sight the prick, it had already lunged up and sunk its jaw around Eve’s left arm. She had sacrificed her non-preferential limb in order to spare her throat from being mauled, which was the thing wild dogs tended to go for straight away in the attack and fortunately, her jacket was able to provide some cushioning against the crushing force of its teeth. I hadn’t heard the thing yelp, so I could only guess that in her surprise, Eve had wasted her shot. A mistake which could prove to be fatal.

Mongrel dogs were a common enough sight in the Commonwealth; the packs having roamed unchecked for hundreds of years now and competing with larger, more desperate predators like human beings and Yao Guai in order to secure food for themselves. They were proficient predators that usually hunted in packs and it was rare to see a rogue acting on its own, so I was immediately aware of the need to check the area for any of its companions, who might come flooding in at a moments notice. It usually only took a few seconds for the rest of the pack to join in the attack, so when I didn’t see another come gambolling in, I figured we were just dealing with one desperate rogue male, who had most likely been displaced by the alpha from another pack.

The dogs weight had brought Eve over into a near full crouch and she went with it, rather than allowing the animal to force her body into an unnatural and ultimately unhelpful position. She slid one leg back, pushing her shin and knee onto the wet ground and sank her chin down onto her chest, keeping her neck covered. She didn’t waste energy by screaming, which was a smart choice, as it would only weaken her for the fight. A mongrel dog may not look like much compared to the massive mauling capacity of an angry Yao Guai but it could still do some serious damage if it got you into the right place.

I wasn’t able to discharge my shot gun when Eve was this close to the enemy; I would just as likely riddle her with pellets as I would the dog. I did the next best thing by running up beside them and sinking my boot up between the back of the dogs legs. Male or female, no animal (four legged or two legged alike) enjoyed being hit there and sure enough it emitted such a high pitched yelp that I thought my ear drums might burst from it. It’s grip on Eve’s arm loosened and instead of unloading her gun into the stupid mutts face, she leaned forward and _shoved_ the pissed off animal in its shoulders, knocking it over onto its side on the wet concrete.

“Piss _off_ , you big stupid brute!!” She yelled, dragging her duffle over her shoulder and digging inside of it with her free hand. “We’re not for eating! If you were so hungry, all ya had to do was ask nicely and it woulda gotten you a lot further. Here!”

And to my absolute disbelief, Eve then revealed a tin of cram that she must have rustled up from some deeply interred trench of the bag. Placing her gun on the ground, she ripped back the pull tab of the tin, turned the can upside down and gave it a few short smacks on the underside in order to empty the gray, unappealing contents onto the ground.

“Are you fucking kidding?” I asked, looking back and forth between Eve, the mess of tinned meat on the ground and the hulking, uncertain expression of the wounded mongrel as it skulked nearby. “You can’t seriously be giving some of our food that this mangy piece of shit dog! The thing just tried to bite your arm off!”

Eve glowered at me, her expression so dark you might have thought that it had been _me_ that had tried to separate her limb from her body. “Oh, don’t pretend to go all to water over a tin of fucking cram, Hancock. If you had a ukulele, ya would have written a sonnet about how much you hate the stuff.”

“That doesn’t mean you can just throw it to some Wasteland asshole without a second though! Shit, that stuff might have ended up saving our lives and you just gave it away to a fucking _dog!!”_

“We have plenty of food.” Eve snapped back, picking her gun back off of the ground and climbing to her feet. She readjusted her bag and then backed towards me, keeping an eye on the dog, which was staring hungrily at the offering of tin meat like it was a gift from God. “This dog only attacked me because it’s hungry and desperate. If it had any personal designs on me, I reckon it woulda come after me by now, don’t you? Now, let’s just keep going.”

“Fucking fantastic,” I grumbled to myself, letting her take me by the arm and drag me back with her away from the dog and its undeserved winnings. We were barely three feet away before its hunger got the best of its fear and it finally darted forward, wolfing into the putrid gray meat with the relish Diamond City folks showed their prized bowl of noodles. “I’ll remember this logic the next time a Deathclaw has sights on you and offer it up a fucking mutfruit in exchange. Cause I’m sure that’ll turn out lovely. Jesus, you’re a fucking hippy sometimes, woman. You do remember what happened with the Radstag, right? How well did _that_ work out for you?”

“Yes, all right, Hancock.”

“That mutt could have rabies, did you ever think about that? Couple of hours you could be frothing at the mouth and going for _my_ throat. And I’ll probably be too pleased with the development to realize what’s going on until you’ve ripped my trachea out. How awesome is that? You and I dying in a bloody, frothy tangle and you reward the asshole that did it to us with a nice dinner.”

“ _All right, Hancock_.”

“You come after me, I’ll break your fucking head over my knee. I won’t be mucking around with a Mirelurk cake, I’ll tell you that much-”

“ALL RIGHT, HANCO-” The rest of her sentence terminated in a violent green flash which lit up the entire area around us and she let out a long, bloodcurdling scream as the ground beside us smashed open. A strobe of lightning had struck the pavement not five feet from where we were standing; engulfing the puddle which her right foot happened to be partly submerged in, with electricity. Well, I tell ya, I have never seen anyone’s leg fly into the air so fast and I could smell burning hair as she was flung sideways as though thrown by an invisible Super Mutant. Her whole body came crashing down hard onto the tarmac and she was jerking spasmodically, arms curled in towards her chest, making a strange gibbering noise that sounded as though her tongue was caught between her front teeth.

For fucks sake, of _course_. One in a million chance of getting struck by lightning and it had to be the blimmin’ _Vault Dweller_ to get all up in it. The only thing that had spared me from the same fate was that Eve had let go of my arm to yell at me, otherwise it would have been the two of us twitching around on the ground like poisoned Radroaches. Which wasn’t helpful when you were out in the open like this.

“Jesus!” I yelled, swinging my gun strap around my shoulder as quick as I could and running to kneel at her side. Her foot must have only had the slightest contact with the water, which would explain why she wasn’t fucking dead but I still wondered just how many bolts of electricity had gone through her. The ends of her hair looked frayed… the water in the air might have helped conduct the electricity up through her body, I don’t know. All I knew was that she looked freakin’ terrible and… well, hysterical really, in hindsight.

I know, I know… I'm an asshole. But I have the benefit now of knowing that Eve survived and was no worse the wear really. (Exempting a jagged scar on the bottom of her foot where the electricity entered her). But really, you had to have seen it to understand. She was dithering like someone with a terminal stutter, dribbling down her chin and twitching so hard she was almost turning herself in circles on the ground.

“Eve! Honey, you all right?” I was yelling, taking the situation seriously, even though my present self was deriving some horrible mean pleasure from it. It wasn’t nice to see her get hurt, of course. I would never take pleasure in seeing her hurt. Having actually laughed about this event with her later though, helped me to look back on the memory with an odd feeling of affection. To see how I could argue with her, poke fun at her and in the next instant to be so damned afraid that I was going to lose her... To me there was no greater proof of just how deep my feelings for this woman went.

I eased one hand down underneath Eve’s head, raising it up off of the wet tarmac. Her hair was saturated and water poured down from the foremost peak of my hat, partly veiling her trembling face. I used my free hand to extend my jacket out over her body, trying to keep as much of the rain off of her as possible; not wanting to move her until I was near certain she was okay to be moved. Her lips were still trembling and her already large eyes bulged from her skull; so much so that I thought a good shake might send them skittling onto the ground.

She puffed air out between her lips, sending spittle down her chin before then clearing her throat; trying to speak, I think. “H-h-h-holy fu-fu-fu-fucking d-d-dooley,” Is what she managed to say, fingers clenching in and out as if she were regaining control over them. “Th-th-that was… _sh-sh-sh-shocking…”_

I felt the thick breath of relief leave my body, as crippled by the memory as I had been when the event itself had occurred. “If you’re fit enough to make stupid-ass jokes chicken, I reckon you’re right to keep kicking.” I said, chuckling as I released my jacket and used my free hand to stretch out one of her arms, sliding my head underneath it before pulling her chest in towards my shoulder. “Fucking attention seeker. Can’t take you anywhere. Gonna have to carry your dopey ass all the way over to the shelter now and get you checked out. Bet you just didn’t wanna walk any further, ya lazy brat.”

The weight of her bag was more problematic than anything else but I figured we didn’t have far to go, so I simply left it where it was; slung over her own back. I girded my muscles and pushed myself slowly onto my feet, bringing Eve over my shoulder in the process. Her upper torso dangled down my back like a sodden sack of laundry and she was grumbling some meagre, ill tempered protest. I hoisted her up a little higher, earning a grunt in response as her stomach thumped into my shoulder and I smacked my hand to her backside, which I then kept in place to steady her. She grunted again; like a dying Mirelurk having something inserted into an unprepared orifice.

“Quiet,” I snapped, taking a moment to adjust the straps of both my gun and my duffel bag. I was carrying a decent amount of weight now; not that Eve was packing it but she sure as hell wasn’t petite by any stretch of the imagination. Not to mention the combined contents of our bags were a fair heft. I just hoped that we had no more interruptions before we reached the diner. “Which way was it again?”

Eve’s arm rose slowly and pointed somewhere off to my left before flopping down inelegantly along the line of my back. I turned in the direction that she had indicated and took off at a steady jog, Eve bouncing around on my shoulder like a half stuffed rag doll. She groaned and grumbled the entire way, still making those terrible dithering sounds, which sounded to me as though she was having trouble parting her teeth to let air in. Small wonder she hadn't bitten her tongue clean off.

“Don’t you dare lose my hat,” I called back to her, which earned an even more vehement grunt and a hard smack to the centre of my spine. At least she had control over her body, which meant it was unlikely she had suffered any severe nerve damage. Small miracle, that.

I saw the light of the diner before the outline of the building came into view. It seemed that it was already occupied and that someone was burning a lantern inside. I kept moving forward, squinting my eyes to try and bring the doorway into focus, praying that we hadn’t just blundered up on a little Raider encampment. If I were to encounter any resistance, I’d have little choice but to upend Eve into order to draw my gun, which I was almost entirely sure she would not appreciate.

Thinking on my feet, I reached up with my spare hand and quickly tugged Eve’s pistol from her side holster, pulling back the safety. I held it with the barrel pointed up towards the sky, ready to drop it down and take aim if the squatters turned out to be less than hospitable. I was close enough now to see someone standing in the doorway of the diner and they were already pointing a gun in my direction. Well _shit._

“Stop right there!” A woman’s voice called out through the rain. She sounded scared, uncertain. This was a good sign. Raider’s never had a doubt in their minds and they always acted without hesitation. Good news for me, otherwise I may have already been riddled with bullets. “If you’re Raiders, you can just fuck off right back the way you came! You ain’t getting in here!”

I loosened my index finger in the trigger nook of the pistol, allowing it to swing down around my hand harmlessly. “Take it easy there, love. Just a couple of fellow scavvers, needing a bit of shelter. My friend's been hurt pretty bad… she got herself caught by the lightning out there.”

“Lightning?” The girl replied, sounding unsurprisingly suspicious. “She wouldn’t be hurt bad then, her ass would be dead. Pull the other one!”

I felt a hint of impatience creep through, knowing that the longer we stayed submerged in the rain, the more radiation exposure Eve would have and the more her immune system would weaken as a result. Any injuries she had were only likely to get worse, as such and I still didn’t have a clue just how bad she actually was. Going into shock, (no pun intended) can make a person seem completely fine until they roll over and cough up the entire lining of their stomach.

“Ain’t pullin’ nothin’, hun. Bolt of lightning hit the ground not twenty feet from where we're standing now. She got a good zapping from the water it hit. If ya don’t let me in so I can treat her, she’s likely to curl her toes up right here and now on my shoulder. And then, I’m gonna be chucking one mighty big tantrum. And trust me,” I narrowed my eyes a little, not that she was able to see with the distance between us but it made me feel better to do so just the same. She sure as hell couldn’t mistake the threat in my voice however, when I then added, “You do _not_ want to see just how big of a tantrum I can throw.”

I could see the firearm tremble in the girls hands; she clearly hadn’t missed the seriousness of my tone but was still adamant about protecting her little patch of Wasteland gold come hell or high water. In normal circumstances, I can respect that level of caution. At that point however, I was completely prepared to steam roll over some of my own very adamant morals if it meant the difference between Eve living and dying.

Just when things looked as though they were about to go completely Mutfruit shaped, I heard another voice call out from further inside of the diner and a mans silhouette appeared in the doorway beside the woman’s. I couldn’t make out a great deal of detail but I could tell that he wasn’t carrying a firearm.

“Wait… take it easy, Dom.” The man said, taking a few steps forward so that I was now able to see him more clearly. I didn’t recognize him right away but he had no such difficulty, and his scarred face broke out in a smile. “I thought I recognized the voice! If it ain’t Mayor Hancock doing the rounds! Been a while, brother.”

It came to me then, having heard that familiar Goodneighbor inflection in his tone. “Archie Comerford,” I called, chuckling as I holstered Eve’s pistol before reaching out with the same hand to clamp hands with the other man. Small world that it was, Archie had been one of the eight who'd had my back the night we overthrew Vic. He'd then served as a member of the Neighborhood Watch for seven years before falling head over tits for some gal he’d met out in the Fens. They’d taken off together and joined up with a farming settlement, last I’d heard. “You rotten old bastard. What you doing out here in the middle of the sticks? Thought you were supposed to be Honeymooning out West somewhere, grubbing the land?”

“Well, wouldn’t we have loved to be doing _that_ ,” Archie said, putting his hands on his hips and tilting his head back in a world weary gesture. “Raiders get the jump one too many times ya gotta wonder what’s the point, ya know? Trying to find us somewhere a little less isolated. Been on the move for a while now. Anyhow, time to catch up after. Let’s get ya inside outta this wet.”

He lead me back towards the entryway of the Diner, where I was able to fully appreciate for the first time the rather unconvinced expression on his companions face. Tiny, red-headed and pretty, this was definitely the little pocket rocket that he’d tossed over Goodneighbor for. Can kind of understand the sentiment now mind you but back then, I’d been perplexed as to what exactly could have been on offer that’d be worth upending your whole life over. Least the girl had some moxie to stand up to folks in the Wasteland, thank goodness.

“So you’ve met Dom,” Archie said, laughing a little at the pissed off look on his girls face. “Aww come on baby, don’t give me that. Ya did a great job. This here is Mayor Hancock; guy who runs Goodneighbor. Took good care of me while I was a Watchmen. And this is, um…” He looked over at Eve with an indulgent sort of smile. “Some dude he’s kidnapped for reasons best known only to himself.”

An immediate grunt of protest sounded from somewhere over my shoulder and Past-Hancock tried his best not to burst out laughing. Ah, shit, it never got old.

“As if I'd waste my time kidnapping a dude,” I chuckled, reaching up to give Eve a stout smack on the backside. She grumbled in what I think was supposed to be a dissuasive manner. “This limp and infuriating burden is otherwise known as my buddy, Eve. And despite all evidence to the contrary, she is actually female." I turned around so that Eve was facing towards the couple. “Say hi, Eve.”

“Hey there,” Archie said cheerfully, kneeling down so he could look up into Eve’s no doubt, barely comprehending face. “Sure is nice to meet a chum of Hancock’s. Tell ya what girl; you must be somethin’ to keep up with him. Most’d be dead or in prison after one day and I know that for a fact!”

“Nice to meet you... I have a vagina.” Eve drawled in a vague, almost bragging tone which suggested she didn’t entirely have her senses. Great, now it looked as though I had either drugged her or kidnapped a special needs fallout from the old State Asylum.

Archie chortled in response. “Um, yeah... sorry about that. Think it might have been the hat and the coat that threw me off.” He leant over to my left hand side now and whispered in my ear. "Um... not to criticize boss but I think you might have overdone it on the Brahmin tranquilizers."

I snickered a little, giving my head a shake. "As I said before my man, she got zapped out there in the storm. Thinkin' it might have addled her brain a bit... little hard to tell. She's a bit of a fruitcake normally anyway."

“You poor thing,” Dom said, speaking up for the first time since we walked in the door. I guess she could see from Eve’s expression that the story about the lightning hadn’t been false. Or else she just felt sorry for her; having to deal with my endless tormenting. “And to be caught out in that terrible radiation storm… you both need warming up now.”

“That’d be kind of ya,” I said, turning back around to give her a smile and patting Eve’s calves. “First though, I don’t suppose you’ve got somethin’ you’re washin’ yourselves in? Camp shower maybe?”

Archie gestured over his shoulder. “Got us one of those solar heated fella’s strung up in the bathroom here. Didn’t get much sun today though, so it probably ain’t too warm.”

“Doesn’t need to be warm,” I said, leaning over to pull the diner door shut behind me. Took a moment to wedge it back into place, given the building sinkage. “Just gotta get this girl washed clean… you ain’t fussy about a cold shower, are ya chicken?”

“Like fuck I’m not.” Eve called back over my shoulder, which finally got a smile out of Dom. “’Sides… these folks probably wanna be using their water themselves… you can’t just expect them to waste it on me.”

“Oh honey, if you’ve gotten too much of that water into your skin, you need to get yourself cleaned off quick smart,” Dom stated, taking her gun and placing it off by the counter. “We sure don’t mind; we already showered today and I think you probably need it more.”

“Thanks,” I replied, making my way over to one of the few diner seats that wasn’t completely trashed and gently easing Eve down onto it. She sighed as she sank back against the foam flecked cushions, rubbing one hand across her forehead, beneath the brim of my hat. “How you feelin’?” I asked her, reaching out to bring the strap of her bag over her head so I could drop her duffel to the floor beside me. I did the same with my own.

“Not too bad, surprisingly. Thought I’d feel worse for being lit up like a Christmas tree,” She muttered, resting her cheek against the back of the diner chair. “Skin feels like it’s trembling… I’ve got some little spots here and there that are thumping like a son of a bitch. My head is killing me… and my foot feels like it’s on fire…”

“I reckon,” I said, unzipping her duffel and rustling about for a bit before pulling out one of the least threadbare towels we had in our possession. Whilst travelling, everyone hauled their own sleeping bag, blanket and towel along with their other required necessities. I had brought along a few extra on this one outing, to save us from having to wash everything before moving directly to a new location. I also pulled out a square hessian cloth, which was wrapped tightly around a new bar of soap and two small bottles of shampoo and conditioner. These were considered to be luxury items; requiring importation from Rivet City in DC, where a group of eggheads were able to recreate the formula. Much the same as toothpaste; no one in the greater Boston area had dedicated any time to learning how to create these items. Hadn’t had much need of shampoo myself for a good decade now but given my connections, I was able to procure the items with relative ease… Compared with other folks, that is. “We’re just gonna pop you into the bathroom now and you can have a good old soak in the shower. Then we’ll patch up what we can and get some of those good times into ya. How’s that sound?”

“Like a plan I can get behind,” Eve said, giving a small smile and a wink of one bleary looking eye. It was twitching a little, I noticed.

“Atta girl,” I said, holding out my fist for her to bump her own against, before dropping the two little bottles of shampoo and conditioner into my jacket pocket. “Now… what do you need me to do? Reckon you can get yourself in there, or do you need a hand?”

Eve gave a low chuckle. “Oh man… there won’t be any secrets left between you and I soon.” She said, lifting her head from the back of the diner chair with what appeared to be colossal effort. “If you can just help me in there first… we can figure it out from there, I guess. But if it comes down to it, I’ll ask that young lady to come and give me a hand… save you from seeing me in the raw.”

“Hey, no one’s asking you to save me from that,” I grumbled, earning a little laugh from her as I tossed the towel onto my shoulder and climbed to my feet; reaching down to slide my hands under her arms. I lifted as gently as I could, trying to gauge if she had any strength at all in her muscles.

Her body still trembled; like she had a terrible fever but she was able to walk, albeit with me taking some of her weight off of her legs. We made our way slowly towards the bathroom doors, veering off into the disabled stall, which Dom was holding open for us. Sure enough, the inside had been converted into a little makeshift shower room; with the bladder of the camp shower suspended from a hook in the ceiling above the pre-constructed drain on the floor. Two wooden clothes horses perched on opposite sides of the room, drying a number of clothing items. A big tin bucket on the floor still bore the remnants of white bubbles; no doubt where the pair washed their clothes.

“Hold on, I’ll get you a chair.” Dom murmured as an afterthought, stepping back out in the diner proper and allowing the door to swing shut behind her. I placed the towel onto the sink and pulled my arm around Eve’s shoulder tightly, pinning her to my side and giving her bicep a little rub. Trying to be comforting.

“Don’t get fresh,” Eve muttered from somewhere against my coat. I snorted out a laugh, reaching over to pluck my wet hat off of her head; which I tossed over into the bucket, thinking that I would give it a wash if I had the time. It was starting to smell a little funky.

“Girl, if I was getting fresh, your knees would be out from underneath you. Well… more than they are already,” I replied, giving the top of her hair a little ruffle to check how wet it was. Some moisture had seeped through the hat unfortunately and the sides of her face were streaked with brown water and grit from having hit the tarmac. She had a nasty graze down her right cheek as well; yet another unwelcome contribution to the wretched tableau of pain etched across her face. “Jesus and I thought you looked like hell before. Keeping you in one piece is turning out to be a full time job. Didn’t think you were such a high maintenance dame when we first met.”

“Heh… I’m like a piñata, Hancock.” Eve chuckled, tapping the back of her fist against my chest. “The more I’m beaten, the more surprises you’ll get out of me.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, thinking that this was by far one of the weirdest things I had ever heard her come out with. And that’s sure as Hell saying something. “So what, I beat your ass with a stick and gum drops’ll start popping out of ya? Do you even _hear_ the things you say sometimes?” She started laughing at this, finding my exasperation funny I suppose and I found myself joining in. “You’re a fucking mental case and this is coming from the Mayor of a town that specializes in mental cases. God love ya though; you do keep things interesting.”

Eve giggled as she wiped some of her hair out of her eyes. “Better than being bored, right?”

“Got that right,” I replied, turning to look over my shoulder as the door was pushed open behind me. Dom entered, carrying a steel chair, which she placed underneath the red plastic nozzle of the camp shower. She swivelled the chair a few times to ensure that it wouldn’t wobble, I suppose, before then turning back towards us.

“Do you maybe need a hand with… getting her undressed or…are the two of you comfortable if I just leave you to it?” She asked, spinning her fingers in the air towards me, with a very awkward expression on her face that seemed to be silently appealing to me for additional information. With a jolt, it occurred to me that Dom and Archie would not have known for certain just what exactly the relationship between Eve and myself was. I had of course said ‘buddy’ when introducing her earlier but back when Archie had known me, this word would have meant very little if used in a reference to a woman. There had been a number of women that I had referred to as friends but this did not preclude them from going to bed with me.

I had a momentary, ungentlemanly impulse to mislead Dom as to just how close Eve and I were and piss her off out of the room, but I knew that Eve wouldn’t have supported me in this deception. Mainly as it would involve Eve then having to concede to being undressed and showered by me, which I’m certain she would have only permitted if she had been completely crippled and there was no one else around to do it. … Well… with the exception of Deacon or MacCready, that is. I’m certain I would have gotten an invite before those two would have the pleasure.

“Actually… it would probably be better if you gave her a hand,” I admitted, hoping that my disappointment didn’t filter out into my voice. Hey, I wouldn’t consider myself to be a pervert but like any hot blooded heterosexual male, I sure as shit didn’t much like passing up the chance to clap eyes on a naked woman. Especially one that I genuinely liked and might have had a hand in soaping down to boot. Goddammit… being a gentleman _sucked._

Dom’s face relaxed into an expression which I found a little hard to interpret; kind of knowing, with a little smile that suggested she might have been warming up to me. Can’t say why… guess being a good boy can win points on occasion. Not that I wanted to make a habit out of being a goody two-shoes if I could help it. How would I ever get any shit done?

“Sure thing. So long as it’s all right with you of course, Eve?” Dom asked, kneeling down a little to try and see into Eve’s face.

Eve made an OK sign with her fingers. “Super duper…”

“Well, let’s just get you over to the chair then…” I said, frog marching her over before slowly easing her backside down onto the steel seat top. “Bet that’s gonna be cold on your bare ass, Munch. Now, I’ll pop outside and get some stuff sorted to treat those wounds. You just call out if you change your mind about having a handsome Ghoul rub soap suds all over you.”

Eve gave a low, theatrical sigh. “Oh golly… it’ll sure be hard to fight those hormones down, John but I’ll do my best.” She smiled at me. “Seriously though… thanks for hauling my big butt outta the rain. I owe you, darl.”

‘ _Oh, and wouldn’t I love take advantage of_ that _’,_ I thought to myself, only to feel immediately ashamed for having entertained the notion, even if it was tongue in cheek. Shit like that was what Vic and his boys had thrived on exploiting all those years they sat in power at Goodneighbor. There was nothing tackier than getting your way by making someone feel as though they were indebted to you. It made my stomach curdle to think that I could even consider the idea of trading in on a kindness for artificial affection.

I forced a smile onto my face, hoping that my self-directed feelings of disgust weren’t obvious to the two women. “You don’t owe me nothin’, kiddo. That’s what partners do for each other. Now, you just get washed up and comfy… oh, you’ll be needing these.” I added, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the shampoo and conditioner, which I passed over into Dom’s hand. “Also, I might just go and quickly grab her night-night clothes, so she’s got something dry to change into.”

Dom’s mouth had quirked up into a little smile at ‘night-night’ clothes, though this was honestly not a term that I had come up with. It’s what Eve always called bedtime clothing and it had somehow caught on with a few of us who had been travelling together. “That’s fine, I’ll wait to help her undress until you get back, then.”

I nodded and then pushed through the swinging door and back out into the Diner proper. Archie was over in the small kitchenette area, humming as he chopped some things with a knife. He waved this at me as I passed, heading back over to where I had set the bags down.

“Just putting some grub together. Comin’ up on six now, so I figured you guys would be hungry.”

“Well, if you hold off for just a minute, I’ll give you a hand.” I called back, kneeling beside Eve’s bag and reaching inside to what felt like the softer half of the contents. A few wine bottles clanked together as I moved things around, trying to find her ‘nighty-night’ clothes. “We’ve got some meat here that’s about to go on the turn if we don’t cook it tonight. Could just do up a stew with some vegetables?”

“Sounds good,” Archie said, coming around the kitchenette and wiping his hands off on a small rag, which he then tucked back into the pocket of his shirt. “What you got?”

“Um… coupla slices of Radstag… a good cut of Brahmin rump. Kept it in a cooler and salted and wrapped it. Only a day or so old.” I saw a familiar flash of white and grabbed a hold of it, yanking out the man’s dress shirt, which Eve wore to bed and finding underneath it the pair of baggy boxers that she most often paired it with. I slung both over my arm, before then unzipping my own duffel and reaching inside to extract the cooler. I tossed it over to Archie, who caught it two handed. “Here. Check it out if you like. The Radstag’s a little older, so it might be… eh, chancy but you make the call. I trust your judgment.”

“Great. Now if only Dom thought the way you did, things would be a lot easier around here,” He muttered, unlatching the clasp on the top of the cooler and peering tentatively inside. He leaned closer to take a sniff of the contents. “Smells okay to me… I’ll take a look at it over on the counter.”

“Be there in a tick,” I said, trekking my way back over to the bathroom and stepping inside. Eve looked about ready to fall asleep in the chair in which she was perched, though she didn’t seem to be in much pain, which was good. I handed the shirt and shorts over to Dom. “Here. The promised ‘night-night’ clothes.”

“What, no underpants?” Eve asked, raising a brow at me. Girl didn’t miss a trick, did she? “So I’m gonna be free balling it tonight am I?”

“You’re gonna be hopping into bed with a good dose of Med-X and going to sleep, that’s what you’re going to be doing.” I snapped, giving her a very serious frown, which I don’t think she bought for a second. “Besides, you only had one clean pair of underpants left and I’m wearing those.”

Eve burst out laughing at this, shaking her head from side to side as she muttered, ‘Oh man’ into the side of the aluminium chair. Even Dom chuckled, though I’m not certain whether she knew that I was joking or not. Oh well, even funnier to keep them guessing.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Eve finally chuckled, looking over at me with an appreciative expression. “That why you’ve been running funny all day? Riding up a bit, were they?”

“You ain’t half kidding. It was that skimpy little black number you know I like… think most of it’s disappeared up my ass now,” I said, reaching behind and pretending to adjust the seat of my pants. “Guess that’s what I get for thinkin’ lace would be comfortable.”

Eve wrinkled her nose up at me, still laughing as she said, “Fucking ew, Hancock. I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not! And if you’re not, you can damn well keep those knickers now because I’m sure as shit not putting them on again.”

I gave her a wink as I turned to leave the room. “Just a joke kiddo. You know I don’t wear underwear.” This made Dom burst out laughing again, though she attempted to mould her expression into some semblance of control shortly thereafter. I gathered that I may have won a few more points with her, which couldn’t hurt if we hoped to bunk down there for a while.

I left them to it and made my way back into the diner proper to arrange some supplies to treat Eve’s wounds. Archie was jigging away to the radio as he sliced the Radstag meat I’d offered him into thick cubes.

Despite Archie stating that they were on the move, I got the distinct impression that he and Dom had settled in for the long haul; given the amount of time they had clearly invested into the rest stop. The diner set up was relatively simple but geared towards maintaining long term productiveness. I could hear a distant hum coming from behind the kitchenette wall, the character call of a makeshift generator. Sure enough, my suspicions were confirmed when I spotted the steel wire that was threaded through a number of coils across the roof, connecting to a port on the side of the stove. Made more sense to power the cooking station than to filter electricity into the diner lighting and risk being spotted by Raiders and other predators. I didn’t spot a fireplace or anything that they might have used to provide heating; not that the weather had been particularly cold lately but it was still a heck of a gamble if you were bunked down as long as they clearly had been.

“How are you guys keeping warm?” I asked, kneeling beside my bag and taking out in turn a smaller satchel, in which I kept my supply of chems.

Archie chuckled from over in the kitchen. “How do you think?” He said, giving a cheeky little chirp of his cheek so I couldn’t miss his meaning. Then he laughed. “We have a little portable heater I made up from spare parts. If it gets too cold, we divert the power from the stove top into the heater. Set it up in the back room, grab a couple of blankets and curl up close with a good bevvy…”

“Sounds brilliant,” I said genuinely, thinking I would pull out my back molars with my bare hand if I could have spent the rest of the night this way. Curled up with Eve that is, not with Archie and Dom, though I was so bone tired I don’t suppose I would have known just _who_ I was spooning once I was out to it. Hell, I’d once rolled over and spooned MacCready of all people. Which would have been a lot easier to have moved on from, if he hadn’t rolled over and returned the snuggle. Not sure who screamed louder when we both woke up. Apparently he thought one of the girls was getting cosy, which made me question just what exactly he might have been trying whilst I was out to it. Serves him right if he got skin stuck under his nails.

“Heh, didn’t think I’d ever see the day when you of all people thought a _cuddle_ was top of the range,” Archie stated and I could hear a smile in his voice. Christ, had I really become so transparent? “Seeing you burst out of the Wasteland with some blonde over your shoulder, now that… _that_ is the Hancock I remember. But going and leaving a dame in the bathroom for _my_ missus to undress and wash? I’m thinkin’ you’ve either lost your moxie completely or… this one might be a little more special than all fifteen hundred others?”

“Fifteen hundred others…” I repeated sarcastically, shifting through my chems until I unearthed one of the soft bladders containing the Rad-Away formula. I tugged this out by the dissemination cord and placed it off to the side, fishing out the small yellow container I kept needle heads in and a Med-kit. “That’s a gross over estimation buddy and you know it. I’ve been with a perfectly acceptable number of women; no more than your average-”

“Prostitute?” Archie cut in and I actually looked up in time to see him suck his lips back against his teeth, clearly wishing he hadn’t used this word. Prostitution had once been very big business in Goodneighbor; before I had taken over of course and the exploitation that came about as a result of it was horrendous. Archie knew this very well, as he had been living in the town at the time. “Jesus… sorry, man. Wasn’t thinking.”

I shrugged, not taking it to heart. It was a sign of how the times had changed, that we had the luxury of a slip of the tongue here and there. He had only been meaning to tease, not to cause any actual offense and I certainly wasn’t sensitive enough to interpret fault where there was none.

“Don’t sweat it. You didn’t mean nothing by it.” I held up the Rad-Away bladder for him to see. “Any nails in the wall or something I could hang this off of? Munch’ll be needing a good dose to flush the radiation out of her system.”

Archie fumbled his knife at this and it clattered heavily onto the floor before he was able to retrieve it. He raised his head above the bench top, laughing as he gave me a look which suggested I ought to have known better.

“What? You _seriously_ call her _Munch_?” He cackled, giving the knife a wipe over before placing it back on the bench top. He ducked out of sight again and then re-emerged with a tool kit, which he carried out into the diner and set on top of one of the more sturdy tables. “I’m guessing she doesn’t know what that means exactly?”

I gave a shrug. “If someone’s told her, she doesn’t seem to mind. It’s just kinda stuck, you know?”

“Seems a bit mean,” Archie replied but his smile didn’t drop so much as a millimetre, so I don’t believe he was judging too harshly. He flipped open the clasp of the toolbox and pulled out a hammer and a couple of nails. “Here. I’ll just pound one of these bad boys into place above that dinner seat by the kitchen. She’ll be able to sit there for a while and let the drip do its stuff. Wont’ be visible from the doorway either, so she should be safe if anyone rolls up and tries to cause problems.”

“Cheers man,” I said, reaching over to scoop up my supplies, which I carried over to dump on the designated table top. Archie set to work, banging the nail into the wall, after I had indicated what height it needed to be by holding up the length of dissemination cord as a reference. Whilst he finished the job, I returned to the duffle bags and zipped them up. But not before first removing a bottle of wine and a bottle of scotch, which I placed on the table with the aluminium cups that Eve and I used when we were throwing back a drink. It was the sight of the alcohol, I think, that reminded me of the time. Or, more importantly, what it was time to do.

Up until now I had been keeping busy with the jobs that I needed to complete but as I started to run out of tasks, I became uncomfortably aware of the tight, sickly feeling in my chest and the itchiness that had taken hold in the centre of my palms. I scratched a little, knowing that it wouldn’t help but unconsciously acting to alleviate the discomfort. I didn’t wear a watch, normally keeping track of the time on Eve’s Pip-boy, but she had taken this into the bathroom with her. Based on what Archie had said, it was a little after six, which meant that the Chems in my system had stopped working about an hour ago. It also meant that I was well overdue for a smoke, which would explain the tight anxious feeling in my chest.

Shit like this annoyed me. Not the smoking itself, I mean, that was a thing I didn’t mind being a slave to so much; not many folks I knew were abstinent from _that_ particular vice. It was feeling as though I _needed_ to take Chems, which pissed me off. I mean, clearly I enjoyed them, otherwise why would I have taken them? But I sure as shit didn’t need them to be running my life; not when I had a shit ton of responsibility to deal with. Addiction was the end game when it came to Chems; it lead to folks doing questionable, messed up shit just to get a fix. And I mean messed up, like stealing from your mother messed up, not feeding your family messed up, joining up with a Raider gang and killing other people for all their caps and belongings messed up.

That little itch, meagre though it was compared to other withdrawal symptoms was always my first warning sign that my little chemical friends were starting to get on top of me. And that crap just would not do.

“Addictol,” I muttered to myself, digging my fingers back into my little Chem bag and searching for the red Jet like canister which contained the chemical cleansing agent. My mouth flooded with saliva as my eyes locked onto the far more satisfying array of drugs at my disposal but I fought back the temptation and pushed them aside, continuing my search.

It was always best to keep a balance with these things. Far be it from me to judge, I considered myself however to be a Chem ‘binger’ rather than a long term ‘user’; which meant that I used recreationally only and sometimes in large amounts if the occasion was special enough. The one thing I did take regularly was Mentats, in order to keep myself focused whilst travelling around the Wasteland. I also smoked Chark just about every day; one in the morning usually and one at night to help me relax. And of course, I powered the cigarettes back whenever there was a quiet moment.

I liked to use Chems to have a good time; I certainly wasn’t interested in having them fry my brain and leave me a dribbling, incontinent mess for the rest of my days. Well… not anymore anyway. Seeing what too much of this crap had done to someone like Cait was evidence enough that I needed to take my usage just that bit more seriously; I had shit I wanted to stick around for now. I couldn’t just keep going on the way that I had; taking things willy nilly and dealing with the consequences later. Once upon a time, it mattered Sting Wings balls if I up and shorted out at the end of a weeks binge but now… now life was providing some unenhanced enjoyment all of its own. And for the first time ever, I actually wanted to stick around and be part of that. Which meant taking care of my own damn self every once in a while.

I found the Addictol finally, which had a scant strip of tape stuck to the side with the name almost invisible as it had been damaged from near constant rubbing within the bag. They really needed to stop producing this shit in the same fucking canister they used for Jet; what was that anyway? Some kind of weird self-defeating Russian Roulette crap? _“I’ll just see what I get today, shall I? Relief from my addiction, or a top up!”_

I sighed to myself as I twisted the white cap from the mouth piece of the canister and gave it a shake before bringing it between my lips. I let all my air out so that my lungs completely emptied, before tilting my head back and breathing in as I dispensed two sharp sprays towards the back of my throat. I repeated this three times further; the standard amount required for rewiring your brain into rejecting the Chemical addiction, and then sat my ass down on the dinner seat, leaning my elbows on my knees and keeping my head down; waiting for the dizzy spells to pass.

Archie gave me a little pat on the back as he passed, having finished driving the nail into the wall probably a good minute ago. I guess he was waiting to see if I was going to offer him a huff from the canister but he must have realized that it wasn't Jet after all. Only a fucking moron or a Raider would take four huffs of Jet in one sitting; the high would just about blow your head off and Devils luck if you were able to sleep for the next week.

“Staying on top of it then?” Archie asked, moving to lean against the tabletop opposite me as he rustled in his shirt pocket. He offered me a cigarette from the pack he extracted and I took it with trembling fingers. Addictol always gave you the shakes something fierce. I didn’t light up right away however, as my head was still dizzy and fuzzy from the drug doing its fierce work on the receptors in my brain. In hindsight, it didn’t take long to deal with the bare beginnings of an addiction; a generous five minutes at most, but it was a shithouse nauseating experience all the same. Still, can’t say it’s the worst fallout I’d ever had from a drug, with myself being the unquestionable living poster child for, ‘Just saying no’.

“Yep,” I responded, flinching my eyes shut as I glanced up at him and finding that even this was too bold a move, as my head throbbed angrily in protest. “Don’t need any of that shit telling me when to take it. I’ll take it when I want and not when it tells me.” I gestured to the Scotch bottle with the Addictol canister before I capped it and tossed it into my bag. “Fancy a drink, brother?”

“Won’t say no,” He said, shifting back onto his feet and heading into the kitchen. He reappeared with two relatively clean glasses into which he poured a generous nip of the scotch. Much in my own taste, he didn’t add any water or Nuka cola and simply went for it straight. He placed one glass down next to me, after I indicated that I didn’t want to take it right then and there before returning to his previous position opposite me.

“Cheers,” He said, raising the glass before tipping the contents back into his mouth in one committed slosh. I had to chuckle, musing to myself about how some things rarely changed, no matter how old or mature you thought you were getting. Man still drank like an impatient teenager who thought someone might take it off of him if he wasn’t fast enough.

My head was starting to feel a little better so I took a tentative sip of my own. Encouraged by the fact that my eyes didn’t explode out of my head, I chanced another before then lighting up my cigarette. Archie tossed an ashtray over onto the table beside me before lighting up his own.

“Damn, that shit is a lot smoother than what we’ve been getting out here,” He said, staring into the bottom of the glass and licking his lips wistfully. “If you go and tell me that old Whitechapel Chuck has rerouted his circuits and come out as a certified alcohol brewer bot, I’m gonna be packing my shit right now and heading back to Goodneighbor.”

I smiled as I picked up the Scotch bottle and leaned over to slosh another good nip into the bottom of his glass. “Close but no cigar. Got us a little brewing bot shacked up over in the Hotel Rexford. We just plug in the ingredients, bang in a Holotape with the recipe and he brews the stuff up in his tank. All refrigerated too.”

Archie’s jaw just about damn near fell off his face at this and I imagined he might have dropped his glass if he didn’t value the contents so highly. “Blow me down and call me your funny Uncle, are you fucking _serious?!_ After drinking that god awful slop Chuck overcharged us for, which tasted like it was strained from the inside of a Molerat mind you, you now go and grab this new fangled bot which makes good, cold delicious shit, just as soon as I leave town?! What’s up with that, man?”

I quirked my brow at him. “Hey; let’s not forget that you left town over four years ago, son. Only got the bot in a coupla months back. In fact, we’ve got my cute little kidnap victim to thank for it.” I said, smiling as I gestured over my shoulder at the shower room. I could hear the gentle splash of water coming from inside, which meant that Eve was now getting her wash.

Archie shook his head, seemingly in mirth as he took a measured sip now from his glass; treasuring it accordingly. “I don’t know, Hancock… I’m having a hard time getting my head around all this. You managing your Chem use responsibly, Goodneighbor serving half decent booze, the fact you’re not fucking some girl you’re running around with… Starting to think that _I’m_ the one who needs to lay off the Jet for a while. If Dom let me take it any anymore, that is.”

“Well, we’re all getting older,” I said, which was a poor explanation but no less true for what it lacked in substance. “No one tells you just how much of a difference there is between twenty-seven and thirty-seven, but your priorities do tend to shift a fuckload, don’t they?”

“Speak for yourself,” Archie said, snorting disdainfully from his nasal cavity. “I’ve only just turned twenty-eight, dude, I’m not an old fucking geriatric like _you._ And besides, being older can make ya wiser and shit and sure it can help you make smarter decisions and slow you down, but none of that is what makes you up and take stock. It’s meeting the right person.” He gestured with his smoke towards the bathroom door. “’Fore I met Dom, I figured life was just good and dandy the way it was. I wasn’t unhappy and I didn’t think nothing was missing. But then she walks into my life and it’s like… I don’t know…” He mused for a moment before using both hands to make a square shape in front of him. “Like I had this big old jigsaw puzzle, right in front of me. And I had it all put together, all the pieces so it made sense. All except one.” He raised a solitary finger. “One little piece that might be… I don’t know, right in the top corner or something. Didn’t seem like it really mattered; after all, I could see what the picture was supposed to be. But it was never, ever really complete. And that’s what Dom was for me.” He gave me a big old smile at this and I could see beyond any doubt just how much love he had for this woman. “She was that little missing piece. And what I realized was, is that even though I could see the picture, that one missing piece had something really important on it, which changed the whole scene into something better. Like the sun coming in through the corner of a window or something. It just made the whole thing come together. And all that other stuff I was doing before she gave me that little missing piece… it wasn’t that it _wasn’t_ important, but from then on out I wanted to make sure that everything I did, every decision I made, was for the sake of us being together and safe and as happy as a coupla Mirelurks in a sewer drain.”

I laughed at this, though in truth I was a little blown away by how passionately he had spoken of his feelings. Folks in Goodneighbor lived a pretty tough life and a certain amount of cynicism was integral to sustaining your longevity in our world, which meant you didn’t talk much about romance and mushy things. Well not at least in an overly eloquent metaphorical sense like Archie had just done.

“Guess it’s true; a mans greatest weakness and greatest enemy will always be the woman that he loves,” I said, getting caught up in the tenderness of the moment as I took another gulp from my scotch, draining it in the process. I was starting to feel a little softer around the edges and a heck of a lot more relaxed.

Archie gave me the same knowing expression that Dom had done in the shower room and I wondered whether this was standard for long-term couples; to start unconsciously mimicking each other.

“Better be careful no one realizes you’re walking around with your Achilles tendon right out in the open,” He stated, peering at me from beneath his brows in a provocative manner. I returned an expression which I hope fully conveyed just how annoyed I was with him as I refilled my glass and took another, probably slightly too generous gulp of my scotch. Now this was definitely a part of my memory that I didn’t mind being entrenched in.

“That obvious, huh?” I asked, thinking all the while what a painfully pointless question this was. It wasn't difficult to see that I had feelings for Eve; feelings that went beyond the standard physical allure, that is. Which is a hell of an admission; given the potency of this physical 'allure' and just how very difficult it has been to keep my simmering desires from boiling over with each passing day.

Eve was a striking woman, physically, mentally and emotionally. I ached to occupy a place in gentle, loving heart; just as earnestly as I wished to capture her lips with the passion of my kisses and confine myself within the sweet, intimate grip of her beautiful body. Even now, I still found it difficult to reconcile the meeting of these two unfamiliar states; that of emotional love and physical desire. One which I understood a whole hell of a lot better than the other, that's for sure. Or at least one that I had a great deal more experience with.

Past-Hancock didn't seem nearly so concerned with sorting this shit out as I did. Instead, he seemed content to amuse himself with some rather hot internalizations in the interim; a bleed through which could be fucking distracting at the best of times and which Dr Amari was still working on trying to eradicate. It was particularly unhelpful, given that past Hancock was dedicating a decent portion of his brain now to visualizing Eve in the shower and this was a considerably distracting thing, since I myself wanted no part in having to try and force the fantasy away. Not that I tried very hard, mind you.

Hey, given that I was a man with a once very healthy sex life, which I had shelved in favour of hoofing around the Wasteland with a woman whose life circumstances almost seemed geared towards redirecting her from taking part in any carnal exchanges in the near future, I’m not sure who could judge me for having the occasional impure thought. I mean, you try watching someone that you fancy run along in front of you all day, pretty much shaking their ass in your face for ten hours straight and then try to go to bed without weeping into your pillow. These… semi-occasional wicked little indulgences were the only things which kept me from throwing all my belongings onto the ground some days and screaming like a tired, unfed toddler.

Gotta give myself some props as well; the details of the fantasy were pretty good. Sometimes the stuff that your brain formulated came back looking like some kid had constructed the people in your fantasies out of clay but I seemed to have become a bit of a daydream connoisseur in recent times. I spent far too long indulging this bloody made up scenario; a fantasy I could have had in my own time, without having to pay good money for the ‘privilege’ of looking back over it. Not to mention the fact that Dr Amari had an agreement with her clients that some memories would be recorded for ‘auditing quality purposes’ and some of this shit might end up being on her playlist if I wasn’t careful. Though considering what some of the other Watchmen came in here to relive, I can’t imagine my harmless little fantasy was going to register anywhere on Dr Amari’s shock meter. Though she might have felt a little sorry for me, which was worse in some ways.

Goddammit, I needed to refocus my attentions. The doc had always warned me about being sucked in by the internalizations of your past self; it was a dangerous paradox apparently, where a client is reliving the thoughts or memories of their past self, wherein they are also experiencing the past through their past self. It could drag you in too deep if you let it and cause some serious problems, which often led to the aborting of the session to prevent you from interring yourself too deeply. Kent was a classic example of this.

Seriously though, I don’t think the good doctor factored soapy breasts into any of her equations. I tried refocusing my attention to the conversation past Hancock was having with Archie (just HOW I could converse with _anyone_ whilst having such a dirty daydream was kind of impressive really) but the content of the discussion was nowhere near stimulating enough to convince me of the merit of the exchange rate. The little snippet I got, revealed that we were blathering on about kids; Archie wasn’t able to have any of his own, being a Ghoul and as such sterile but they were thinking they could adopt because there were plenty of kids in the Wasteland without parents – blah, blah-de-blah-blah.

Meanwhile, Past-Hancock was proving just how good of a friend he was by pretending to listen, as he in turn imagined cupping Eve’s soapy tit from behind, squeezing and listening to her moan as he held the nozzle of the camp shower over her sweet spot; letting the jets of water pound against her, as he in turn thrust up inside, hearing her toes sliding across the wet floor as she took him all in.

It wasn’t like I could just switch the fantasy off either; as Past-Hancock was the one that was having it, not me. And past Hancock had had just enough scotch to not really care about restricting his internal filters, which made for one hot daydream but wasn’t helpful for his equally horny and repressed present self to try and extract himself from it.

I figured the only course of action was to skip forward, which was a shame, as I had been enjoying the fantasy itself but I was running the risk of getting Entrenched and that was a risky game just for the sake of some illusory soap slicked boobs.

I focused on skipping ahead a good hour and I saw the scene before the eyes of past-Hancock blur as everything sped up. I saw Dom and Eve emerge from the bathroom; Eve now dressed in her ‘nighty-night’ clothes and unsupported, though still as pale as her tan skin permitted. I saw Dom giving Archie a good smack, because he had neglected making dinner in favour of making merry with me and he was quickly hustled back to the kitchen. I saw myself swapping places with Eve and getting her to sit down, whilst I secured the Rad Away bladder on the nail on the wall and affixed a clean needle to the dissemination cord.

I saw Eve acting a big fucking girls blouse, because she was scared of needles and watched myself pouring her a cup of wine, which she gulped at like an addict to try and calm herself down. I saw Archie chopping vegetables dutifully, looking both contented and slightly guilty and I saw Dom shaking her head at him but also smiling, as if to say, ‘He’ll never change but I still love him anyway’. I felt that Past-Hancock was reassured by this; that it have him a little jolt of hope.

I saw as Past-Hancock tied a tourniquet around Eve’s arm and got her to pumping her fist a few times, checking with his fingers to try and bring up a vein on her inside arm. (Unlike other Intravenous fluids, Rad-Away didn’t necessarily need to be applied through the back of the hand and based on Eve’s past reactions to having received the treatment, I didn’t feel like trying it again). I heard that Eve was whimpering and saw that she was looking away, jittering her legs up and down like a kid that needed to go to the toilet. Woman would never have to worry about being a junkie; she’d never be able to stick herself enough to get addicted.

Past-Hancock finally found a good vein and gently slid the needle in. He was experienced enough to get it right the first time and I know he would have been comforting and encouraging but it never made any difference to someone with a needle phobia. Once it was in however, Eve relaxed, because it was just the initial sting that always freaked her out. She continued to look in the other direction though, as Past-Hancock taped the needle into place and adjusted the tiny valve on the top of the disseminating cord; where it met the Rad Away bladder. This allowed the regulated stream of the formula to start steadily flowing down into the vein in Eve’s arm; eradicating the radiation in her system.

The scene blurred on, with Eve sitting impatiently, sipping at her little cup of wine whilst Past-Hancock attempted to make amends for leading Archie astray by helping out in the kitchen. Past-Eve was astonished to see Past-Hancock offer to cook anything, as she knew first hand that he hated mucking around in the kitchen/cooking stations/camp fires/taking plastic off of something and heating it up but he pretended like he had no idea what she was talking about.

The two boys managed to make a stew, which was surprisingly edible. Eve had finished up with her treatment by that point and after receiving an additional shot of Med-X was able to sit down with the rest of them to eat and share a drink. The radiation storm outside still showed no signs of ebbing, though it was so dark that only the flashes of occasional lightning were able to illuminate the world beyond. It was like the Diner itself had been suspended in some no man’s space, where nothing else existed past the doorways and windows. It might have been scary to think of it as such but I found it strangely comforting. It was like we had some unspoken permission to switch off from all responsibility for this one night. After all, it wasn’t like we could go anywhere.

I let the memory skim forward further still. Past-Hancock helped Eve to check over some of her wounds; her arm only had a few bruises from where the dog had bitten her and the scratches on her cheek were superficial. She had a raw, circular sore on the bottom of her foot from where the lightening had travelled up through the bottom of her boot. Past-Hancock put some cream on this that would help to soothe it and wrapped it with a compression bandage, so that the sore wouldn’t rub against anything and further aggravate it.

Past-Hancock thought Eve looked very tired. He felt like holding her while she fell asleep. He was surprised by these feelings; about how tenderly he felt towards her, especially when he had only just entertained such lewd fantasies about her. He felt a little ashamed. Though not much. It was a pretty sexy fantasy after all.

Eve tried to help with the dishes but Past-Hancock wouldn’t have a bar of it. He took their sleeping bags and blankets into one of the adjacent storage rooms that Archie and Dom weren’t using and made up their beds in there, trying to direct her into laying down. Dom supplied them with a couple of plump, spare pillows which was a real novelty. Eve finally, grudgingly conceded to getting into bed, though she blinked wide eyed at him almost defiantly from her pillow as he closed the door and left her in the darkness of the supply closet. She did often have a great deal of trouble switching her brain off of a night, Past-Hancock remembered. Plus, she hated feeling like she was missing out on anything and right now, he Dom and Archie were enjoying having a few drinks together, smoking and chilling out whilst they finished washing the few dishes they had dirtied. Eve hated missing a good time.

I skipped forward through this, trying to make it go faster. I enjoyed the time I had spent with Dom and Archie, but I had chosen this memory because I had needed to see Eve and relive my time with her, not because I needed another evening of me drinking and shooting the breeze with folks. Could live that one any good night of the week.

Soon enough, the drinking and joke telling festivities came to an end and Archie and Dom trundled off to bed; Archie mugging and cheering that he was ‘Gonna have some messed up shit done to him that night’, which earned him a smack on the backside which served as a sort of confirmation really.

Past-Hancock left what remained of the Scotch under the counter for Dom and Archie to finish off and added a second as a way of saying thankyou for their hospitality. Wow, that was generous even for me. I must have knocked back more than I thought. I gave the glasses a quick rinse before blowing out the lantern and then toddling my way over to the storage closet, to find Eve still lying there awake and looking very bored with having to rest up. I think she might have been playing a game on her Pip-Boy, which she switched off and set to the side when I entered the room, focusing on me instead.

I slowed the memory down at this juncture, taking her in with appreciation as she sat up in the little makeshift bed and looked at me forlornly, like a pup that had been left at home. I wondered if the bed was uncomfortable; it was the best I had to offer with our limited supplies and I had used her sleeping bag and some spare towels to make a sort of mattress, whilst pulling a few blankets up over her.

But she didn’t look uncomfortable; just wide awake.

“Hey Munch, are you okay? You’re not still in pain, are you?” I asked, thinking of how fresh faced she looked without all her makeup. She still had the little black flecks about her eyes; these had been tattooed on as a gift from her husband for her twenty-first birthday, she had told me but the rest of her face was smooth and clean, with no long, black eyelashes, dark lipstick, eyeliner or… god knows whatever else she paints herself with before going into ‘battle’.

It made her look a little younger actually; kind of more, childlike or something, I don’t know. Which couldn’t hurt I suppose, given that she had turned twenty-nine a month or two ago. Though I, in fact, actually loved that she looked her age. I wasn’t at all into that ‘little girl’ look, preferring a woman who actually looked like a woman. Eve very much looked as though she had been through life and had seen some shit; though still cared enough to make some effort with her appearance.

She sat up on the bed, crossing her legs and resting her hands on her knees, puffing air out in a bored sort of fashion. I’m not sure if I had been consciously doing it in the past (probably) but my present self was definitely taking a good look at the front of her shirt; very aware of the bareness of her breasts beneath. The shirt was loose however and didn’t hug them and the material was thick enough to obscure anything that might have otherwise been visible. I gave an internal little sigh of my own, which almost matched Eve’s for being annoyed.

“I’m okay… just can’t sleep. Got all this shit just going around and around in my head like per usual.” She grumbled, drumming her fingers impatiently on her leg before then pushing herself onto her feet with an unsteady waver; like a Radstag yearling, just born. I moved forward to support her, cinching my arm around her shoulders and taking her wrist gently with my spare hand. “Cheers. Look, I am _dying_ for a smoke and I sure as hell don’t wanna light up in here. Mind taking me out there, near one of the windows?”

“Sure thing,” I replied, loosening my hold on her arm for a moment so that I could open the storeroom door again. I kept it propped with my shoulder as I steered Eve out into the diner, letting it swing shut behind us as soon as we were free. “I’ll grab ya another cup of wine as well. Might help relax you a bit. ‘Less of course I can’t tempt you with something from my little bag of tricks? Still got some of those Daytripper's you like.”

She laughed a little; though she didn’t sound condescending or dissuasive really, just not entirely interested at this point. “Thankyou darling but I’ll say no, right now. But I’ll take that glass of wine… or the bottle if you don’t mind bringing it over.”

“Will do,” I said with a chuckle, taking a long, deep whiff to fully appreciate the clean, flowery scent of Eve’s hair. A Ghoul’s sense of smell was always a lot more sensitive, on account that we no longer possessed the nose cartilage which helped to filter odours. This could be a double edged sword, since really nice smells could be enjoyed all the more, whilst really bad smells pretty much assaulted you without the decency of forewarning you first. And let me tell ya; there’s definitely a lot more musk in the Commonwealth than there are perfumes.

I placed Eve down so that she could rest against the backs of one of the chairs by a window that bordered what had once been the carpark. Sitting up at the table itself could be risky if someone decided to take pot shots at it, so the floor it would have to be. I grabbed one of the ash trays off of the table and placed it near her bare feet before heading back over to where I’d left my chems and grabbing the still mostly full bottle of wine and Eve’s long abandoned cup.

“Not gonna join me?” Eve asked as I plonked myself down rather inelegantly opposite her and topped her mug up with the white wine she was so partial to. I screwed what was left of my own nose up in response.

“Had a little bit already and if I keep going, I’ll probably be useless tomorrow,” I said, screwing the top back on the wine before reaching then into my pocket and taking out my cigarettes. I passed one to Eve and used a match to light it for her as she held it firmly between her lips. “Besides… you know I ain’t the biggest fan of the old vino. But I’ll have a chuff with ya.”

Eve nodded, watching with some interest as I put the cigarette packet away and instead pulled out a small leather pouch, which used to belong to my father before he passed away. It was one of the few possessions I had of his, though I’m not sure he would have been entirely impressed if he knew that I kept my little supply of Chark in it; mixed in with fluffy shreds of tobacco. I smiled to myself, imagining the disapproving look on his face as I got my wrappers and filters out and pinched some of the blend between my fingers. I was a deft hand at rolling a joint now; something I could just about do in my sleep really, though Eve seemed to think that anyone rolling their own cigarette was inherently fascinating. She watched, her large eyes seeming to be perpetually curious as I twisted the little parcel together and licked the edges of the paper so they would stick together. The act complete, I popped the rollie between my lips and used a match to light the end, taking a deep drag in.

The feeling of relief was almost immediate; all the muscles in my body seemed to unclench in unison and my brain felt a little less sore and foggy as a result. Chark was one of the few, really relaxing Chems you could take in the Commonwealth, though not many people tended to smoke it surprisingly. When I had been young, the idea was to keep the party going as long as possible, rather than try and wind down and go to sleep. Now that I was older, I appreciated the feeling Chark gave me in helping me to unwind and ease the aches and pains my body had from all the travelling around.

“Feel better?” Eve said, with a knowing little smile. I gave her a wink.

“You know it, kid.” I said, offering it to her. She wasn’t much of a Chem user herself, though would use them if we were having a little party or had no other major agenda to run to. I guess on this occasion she figured that she could use some help getting to sleep and plucked the joint out of my hand; pulling back for a minute and trying to hold the smoke in her lungs long enough for the effect to take place. Some of the smoke dribbled out of her nose as she passed the rollie back to me, exhaling slowly like a sleeping dragon expunging his fumes.

“My mother would be so disappointed,” She said, taking another sip of her wine before resting her head against the seat behind her. I popped the rollie back between my own lips, thinking offhand how her own had just been wrapped around the filter. It was a thought that a teenager might have but I relished this closeness. I wish I’d been man enough to have kissed her a long time ago.

“Let me see your foot,” I asked, shuffling around so that my back was to the wall under the window and indicating for her to bring her feet down onto my thighs. She did so and I inspected the bandage around her foot, finding no blood had seeped through. “Looks okay… might put some fresh cream on it in the morning.” I gave her un-bandaged foot a bit of a rub, which earned a contented moan from her, before running my hand up her shin towards her knee. Her legs were bristly, from not having shaved them recently. “Jesus Christ, woman, you might have shaved while you were in the shower. It’s like patting a fucking Bloatfly.”

Eve burst out laughing at this and then quickly slapped a hand to her mouth to keep from waking Dom and Archie up. When she was able to pull herself together, she put her cup of wine down just so she could punch me in the shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up!” She hissed, though her grin betrayed just how angry she actually was. “I broke my fucking razor the last settlement we stayed in and I haven’t been to a shop since then to replace it! Just because _you_ don’t have an inch of hair on your body and you’re insane with jealousy because you’re _bald_.”

“Is it the same under your arms?” I questioned, ignoring her jab as I used my finger to try and pull her sleeve away, attempting to peer up and into her armpit.

“None of your business,” She snapped, tugging her arm away. “But yes.”

This earned a laugh from me now and I’m quite certain we may not have laughed so hard if there hadn’t been a few drinks and some Chark involved but it felt nice all the same. We always enjoyed each other’s company when we were together. And it was pretty rare to find a woman who was so unashamed of being seen in a flawed or humorous light; thank God she didn’t take herself seriously.

“Why the hell do you wanna be touching up my legs anyway?” She finally managed to say, after us both having laughed for a good few minutes. “No one asked you to fucking groom me,” She added, reaching out with her leg to try to rub it on the front of my face. I pushed it away, back down into my lap.

“Jesus, be careful, you’ll put my eyes out with those barbs,” I said, earning another mock offended expression from her. “And I wouldn’t try to groom those legs without a fucking rake and you know I’m not really down with the farming lifestyle.”

“Oh my God, _fuck. You._ ” She enunciated, still laughing as she leaned back against the diner chair and reclaimed her cup of wine. She chugged some back before puffing her cigarette, the smile still on her face as I gave her uninjured foot another caress. We were quiet together for a while and I started thinking that I might just nod off then and there, when Eve asked in a now serious tone; “Do you reckon it’s going to work? The teleporter I mean?”

I exhaled a breath of chemical smoke and gave her a smile that took no effort in conveying my feelings on the matter. “If you’ve got anything to do with it, I’m positive it’ll work. Otherwise, I’m betting you’ll tunnel yourself into the Institute with your bare hands.”

Eve laughed softly, tilting her cup gently from side to side and watching the liquid as it moved around the interior. “Not so sure my nails are up to the task… what’s left of them anyway.”

I knew the tell-tale signs that Eve let slip when she was sinking into one of her low moods and this strained smile she now wore, coupled with the lack of eye contact left little doubt in my mind that things were ticking over in her head. Keeping busy was her way of keeping unwanted thoughts at bay, but being forced to slow down on account of the storm and then to rest up after being electrocuted had only allowed time for that window in her mind to crank open that tiny bit further. Negative thoughts seeped in slowly with Eve but they bled through all the same. And I didn’t see her cry much but I had heard her a few nights when she thought that everyone else had gone to sleep. I hadn’t been sure what to do; trying to comfort her might have backfired spectacularly, since the things that she was grieving for were so deeply personal they were clearly not intended to be witnessed by others. But not doing anything made me feel a bit of a heartless asshole. So, like a coward, I’d done nothing and went on pretending like I had no idea of just how heavy her grief actually was.

But goddamn it if I was going to let things continue on in that vein. Especially when her sadness was ebbing through before my very eyes and my own chest was aching to see someone that I cared about so deeply in pain.

“Hey, don’t go getting despondent now.” I said, reaching over and setting my hand firmly over the back of her own. This was always a gamble when you were a Ghoul, as some folks got pretty peaky just by being in the same room as us Rad freaks, let alone being touched by one. But Eve and I had touched many times before. I remembered each one and that’s a hell of a thing for a guy who’s riding high most of the time. And her reaction, from what I could recall, had never been to pull away, flinch or make a face, so I can’t imagine she was too distressed by the oddness of my flesh. “Come hell or high water Munch, you’re gonna crack that big tin.”

It must have been just the right combination of firm encouragement and physical comfort, because Eve actually looked a little cheered up by this; meeting my eyes with a tired sort of gratitude.

“You think so?”

“I know so.” I said, reaching up to cluck her on the chin with my thumb and finger. “I know _you_ , sister. Ain’t nothing can stand in your way when you’ve half a mind to plough through ‘em.”

She pulled a face at me and laughed, looking for the world as though I’d told a witty but implausible joke. “Oh, get the fuck out. Darl, I would never have gotten this far if it hadn’t been for all you lot throwing in and helping to drag my butt around the Wasteland. I’d probably still be back in Concord right now, pitching fits and running in circles, hollerin’ like a crazy woman.”

“And that’s different from right now, how?” I joked, earning a half-hearted little punch in the arm in response. “Don’t go getting caught up in that self-defeating bullshit, kiddo. You got a lot further than Concord on just your own determination and you know it. The rest of us… we just got swept up with your current. Which is a fucking relief mind because it’s been a gas and a half.”

Eve shrugged as she sipped from her wine and then took another puff of her cigarette. Her eyes were starting to sink into half mast by this stage, which hopefully meant that she might be able to go to sleep soon and rest up. “Well, you can’t go undermining just what you guys have done for me too, you know. You’ve all been… fucking incredible. Putting your lives on hold just to help me… whatever you wanna say about the harshness of the world today, I _never_ would have met such… selfless people two hundred years ago.” She gave one of her big, nose scrunching smiles at this and raised her glass as though proposing a toast. “You guys kick serious ass.”

“Well, there’s no disputing _that_. And I can’t speak for the others but personally… I kinda think my life _was_ on hold until I met you.” It was a hell of an admission; almost a little too revealing and I tried to construct some sort of distraction in the wake of it by taking up the wine bottle, unscrewing the cap and sloshing back a bit of the tart liquid. _Bleuch…_ Even in the memory I couldn’t convince myself that I liked the taste, though the product brewed up by the Drinking Buddy was a damn sight better than the crap you found lying around the wastes. Plus, a bit of liquid courage couldn’t hurt none. Past-me seemed to be thinking the same thing and took another gulp, trying to pretend like he didn’t see Eve getting all ticked off that he was stealing her liquor. My head felt a little warmer and lighter for the few gulps mixing in with the Chark however and I reached over to top up her glass again, adding with some newly acquired assurance, “ _Sometimes_ I feel like I was just waiting for someone like you to blow on into my world and shake things up a bit.”

Eve chuckled softly under her breath, holding up a finger to stop me from pouring too much into her glass. Shit, it was nearly spilling out over the top. Looked like I was pulling a bad third-date trick on her. She didn’t say anything about me having slurped from the same bottle either; as we often shared cigarettes and bottles, to the end result that we had likely transferred more saliva between us than most married couples. “Oh you poor dear. Been a hell of a bumpy ride, hasn’t it?”

“Poor nothing.” I said, my tone as serious as I had ever heard it. “I’ve loved every minute of it. Even the parts that I hated.”

“Heh… that’s what the dudes always say.” Eve mumbled, slurring her words a little. Can’t have been the wine, as she had barely imbibed her usual standard; girl could recite complex tongue twisters on a full bottle. The Chark must have been working on her something fierce. I made a point not to offer her another drag, as she wasn’t as used to it as I was. Other people’s tolerances were not an easy thing for me to gauge, it having been so long since I myself had been a rookie in the field of Chem experimentation.

“Seriously though…” I murmured, using my thumb to rub a circle into the ball of her foot, hoping it might help ease her towards having a nod soon. “You thought about what you wanna do once you get the kid back?”

She smiled, though whether from what I had said or the fact that I was massaging her foot I can’t entirely tell. “You never doubt for a second, do you?”

“Not a one.” I said, shaking my head as I pulled in another drag of smoke and let it sit in my lungs for a bit before puffing it back out. I was feeling so breezy and loose by that stage; distant from every ache and pain in my tired, torn up old body. “Not when it comes to you. So… what are the big ‘long term’ plans?”

Eve sighed, taping the ash from her cigarette into the tray provided before setting the filter back to the corner of her lips thoughtfully. “Hard to say… I mean, I have thought about it, of course. But I haven’t really been able to settle on anything. Figured we might just trek out to one of the settlements in the far reaches and… I don’t know, work to farm the land or something.”

I wasn’t aware of much in my body at that stage but I was very conscious of the fact that I was pulling a face. “ _Farm the land_? You wanna spend the rest of your life raising your kid and _farming the land?_ Do you actually _like_ the smell of Brahmin shit in the morning, or what?”

“Well _no_ , not in particular,” Eve said, chuckling as she took my expression in. “But it would be worthwhile. And I could raise Shaun with a good sense of values. You know; hard work and dedication, earning your keep - all that crap. Plus, I could put some distance between him and all the shit you see spattered throughout the main drag; the Raiders, Supermutants and Gunners.”

Just the idea of her and her kid being stuck out somewhere in the Wasteland with limited support and a daily gamble for survival made what was left of my skin crawl. How could she have thought for a second that shacking up with some woodsy, two-bit settlement was going to be beneficial to hers and her boys long term survival? I mean, she was a tough cookie and all but plenty of tough bastards had met their ends just from the constant, shear bombardment of Raider attacks, Gunners and Super Mutant Raids which plagued farming settlements. I could see how at a distance the lifestyle might have been… I don’t know, peaceful or some shit but I honestly couldn’t imagine how you would manage to scrap together one second of peace let alone enough grub for a decent meal. Even with the Minutemen now pulling their crap together and zig zagging across the Commonwealth at a moments notice to pull support where needed. Honest to God, I think I would have spent the rest of their natural lives nursing numerous strokes from being freaked the fuck out all the time. And a face like mine really didn’t need to be sagging in a couple of spots to make me look even more handsome than I already was.

“You still get all that stuff out in the sticks too, you know.” I said, thinking to explain it in fewer, less dramatic words. “And you’ve got even less protection out there than you would in a larger settlement.”

Eve sighed, pushing her head against the back of the diner chair before lowering her eyes to mine, brows raised in a rather sardonic expression. “See now, why do I suspect that you asked that question with a suggestion already in mind, Hancock?”

I chuckled softly, always pleased by her cleverness. Girl was sweet but she didn’t much suffer fools gladly, especially those fools who she was most comfortable being herself around. “Am I that transparent?”

“When you have an opinion to express, yeah.” She stated, smiling in such a way that I could tell that she really didn’t mind my being so plain spoken and took one final drag on the withering nub of her cigarette. She twisted the tiny, remaining ember out into the ashtray before puffing the smoke out in a smooth funnel. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s your better alternative to scraping Brahmin dung out from under my nails for the foreseeable future?”

Ah, and here was where things got truly tricky. Being a guy that always spoke his mind, I wasn’t used to making great strains at censoring my feelings. And right at that moment, my honest to goodness feeling was that I’d sooner drop a Stingwing hatchling down my pants and then smack its mama with a wet towel before I’d let Eve swan off into the Commonwealth to grow Tato’s for a living. It was a little more difficult to factor her kid into the equation; after all, I didn’t have kids of my own (that I knew of) and was never likely to.

Not to say that I didn't like children; far from it. I just... didn't want to have kids with any old person. And I had failed to meet that person in my previous life, which meant that as a Ghoul I could no longer have children regardless of whether that right person came along or not.

Which had never truly bothered me until I had started developing feelings for Eve. And I wanted to be supportive of Eve to the fullest and the fact of the matter was that she was already a mum. And her entire rambling journey through the Commonwealth was to rescue her kid and try and reclaim some semblance of a life in a world that was apparently so very different from the one she’d left behind.

I was starting to realize now, after having known her for a year that I would have done just about anything to keep her around; regardless as to what the nature of that relationship was. And if that included tousling some sticky fingered rug rats hair occasionally, then I would gladly do it, if it meant continuing to enjoy her company and more importantly to know that she was safe. And I could think of no safer place in the entire Commonwealth than under my humble little banner of protection.

“Well, I was thinking that… I could set you and the kid up in Goodneighbor.” Catching the scant look of uncertainty flicker across her face, I started speaking quickly, hoping to get all my reasoning in before she rejected the idea offhand. “Look, just hear me out: You know that we’re converting those Warehouses we cleared out into partitioned accommodation. I figured I’d set aside maybe the entire top level of the Square side complex for you and the kid to live… the rooms are pretty big and the folks there will all pitch in I’m sure to help you get it set up so that your little fella can have his own space.”

Eve pinched her bottom lip between her teeth, looking rather troubled by the offer. “But wouldn’t that be taking away a whole floor just for the benefit of two people?” She looked at me scoldingly. “I really didn’t think that preferential bias was in your character, Hancock.”

 _‘Preferential bias’_ … Jesus, now _those_ were some big words for someone who was slowly passing out on wine and Chark fumes. “Hey, keep in mind I’ve been sleeping under the same roof as a good slap of the drifters for the past ten years.” I stated, sounding more than a tad defensive even to my own ears. I didn’t much like when folks made it out like I used my position to wager favours for myself. “Not to mention, we just commenced work on three story accommodation in the West area of Goodneighbor. Proper undercover stuff, with divided rooms and hopefully some pretty decent plumbing and facilities. No one is gonna be missing out and forced to sleep on the street anymore.” I folded my brows down into a frown, meaning to make her feel a little bad for being ungracious. “And besides, why shouldn’t I try to help you and the kid out? You’d be just as in need of support as any other civilian in my town. A kid and his mum need some stability.”

She waved her hand at me gently, her eyes widening from their near sheathed state. “Hey darl, you know I love Goodneighbor but I don’t know just how safe it would be for a kid to be growing up there. I mean, there are no other kids around to play with, there’s a solid criminal element and a prevalent Chem culture. If it was just me mind, I wouldn’t bat an eyelid. Let’s face it, this old bitch can take care of herself. But a little kid like Shaun exposed to that sort of stuff?” She shook her head again, still not convinced, though not entirely rejecting the idea either. “I don’t know…”

“Hey, you know that Chems are legal no matter where you go.” I reminded her, pushing my fingers up across the taught muscles in the middle of her foot and working on a few lumps and bumps I found there. Yeah, she was definitely about to fall asleep by now. “And folks still become junkies and fuck their lives up in little Diners off the beaten track every day here. That criminal element; I am working to squeeze that out every single fucking day it pokes its head up out of the dirt, you know that.”

“Oh, I know darling, I wasn’t judging." She said, sitting up now and giving me a very sincere look. Worried, I think, that she had hurt my feelings. Well, I was a big boy and I didn’t bruise easily but her opinion _was_ one of the very few things in this world that was sharp enough to pierce through my thick skin and get right on in through the stone around my heart. I had a nasty, niggling little suspicion as well, which I needed to address before I let it simmer further and boil a hole in my gut.

“Or could the plan be to… um …” I paused for a moment, pressing my lips together as an odd, displaced pang of emotion shot through me and I struggled to not let it get the better of me. I’m not even sure how to describe it; fear, perhaps, coupled with resentment. “Go and… live in Diamond City instead? Is that the idea?”

You know how you have those people in your life who you get along with so well that you rarely have a disagreement with? And then it eventually happens and you do finally piss them off and it always feels so fucking painful? _That_ was the moment I experienced right then, when Eve’s eyes narrowed at me, her lips pursed intolerantly. She was intuitive when it came to people and she must have known, as I knew she would, that I hadn’t really been asking a question. That I had been taking a little jab at her; prepared off the cuff for her to disappoint me. And she hadn’t much liked it.

“Excuse _me_ , did I ever for a second float that suggestion by you?” She said sharply, pointing the lip of her still half-filled cup in my direction. “I will _not_ be raising my child in a city that thrives on obliviousness and prejudice anytime soon and I certainly don’t need you to get all narky with me for something I wouldn’t do with a gun pointed to my head.” She sank back against the diner seat with a huff, taking another gulp of her wine. I felt the slightest bit of shame fill the draining void in me that had been puffing up with righteous indignation. I think I had been so afraid that she might have said ‘yes’ to the idea, that I had built myself up in preparation to deal with the disappointment.

“Sorry,” I said, and meant it. “I just… I guess it would make the most sense and you _are_ a practical gal at the end of the day, Munch. They’ve got a school there, a Church and a whole mess of kids… the wall keeps ‘em safe…”

“They’ve also got McDonough there, a guy who doesn’t know how to play baseball and a bunch of Ghoul and Synth hating bigots,” Eve added, flashing me a little smile which said she wasn’t cross anymore. Not that it took her very long to get over shit, especially when it came to her friends. “There are more important things than being safe, Hancock. And living decently is one of them. I could never compromise my morals by holing up in a place like that, not for _anyone’s_ sake. I would find an alternative and raise my son away from that kind of crappy thinking.”

I looked at her, feeling for not the first time since I had met her, such admiration that it made my chest swell and pulled my mouth into an unconscious smile. What a wonderful thing it was, to feel this way for someone; to care for them both as a woman and as a person. How rare, to desire someone as strongly as you respected them. I couldn’t control my need now to touch her, any more than I could reign in my bodies need to draw clean air and my fingers reached for her, my heart thudding as she turned her own hand over and pulled mine in against her palm. Her thumb rubbed the hideous scars running down from my knuckles and I found myself unable to meet her eyes; which was ridiculous, because she wasn’t so fearsome or beautiful that she could bow a mans fortitude with her gaze alone. Yet still, I felt for a moment powerless and that’s a hell of a thing for the guy who had been mayor of the toughest town in the Commonwealth for going on a decade.

I knew then that I needed to be honest with her; regardless of how it made me look or whether it made her uncomfortable or whatever. We trusted each other enough for this; hell, this woman and I had watched each other’s backs or over a year now and though she was tough enough to give me a run for my money, she was predominately gentle. She deserved my honesty, at the very least. And she definitely deserved to know how valued she was and not just by me.

“If you chose …Goodneighbor,” I murmured, pausing to swallow in a mouth that suddenly felt a little too tacky and not just on account of the Chark. I had almost fucked up and said, ‘If you chose me’. That might have been just a tad too much honesty for tonight. I cleared my throat, continuing to look down at our clenched hands. “I promise that you and your kid, will be the two safest people on the face of the planet. I would mould that town by hand to make it safe for you. It would be only short trip over to Diamond city to go to school and as for kids… I don’t know, he could hang out with some of the ones from over there. Who knows? There might be a few more in Goodneighbor before too long.”

I heard her chuckle, though I didn’t raise my head to confirm whether she was smiling at all. I don’t think she felt in any way as anxious about this conversation as I did. “You thinkin’ about adding a couple of little Hancock Jr’s to the mix are ya?”

I snorted with laughter at this. “Would that I could, Munch. Not sure the world could handle more than one of me, though.”

She didn’t reply to this and I started wondering if I had offended her in some way. I finally risked glancing up and found her looking at me with a soft, enquiring expression, which only made me all the more worried. Like she had an inkling as to what I might have been truly and deeply feeling and was fashioning her expression into something suitable for ‘letting one down gently’.

But instead, she said, “Why are you so set on having me hangin’ my coat in Goodneighbor anyhow, John? Surely me and a kid are gonna cramp up the ‘King of the Zombies’ style.”

For a fella who had spent so many years of his life taking insane risks and kicking some serious ass, I was astonished by just how much of a coward I could be when faced with the clarity of my own feelings. I still remember how I had felt right at that moment; in spite of my weariness and the Kark and alcohol fogging up my system. A part of me just couldn’t give a fuck with carrying on like a coy teenager anymore and so I met her eyes with what I hoped was a very pointed expression, lifting my brows as though questioning her own logic.

“Why do you think?” I asked, letting go of her hand and instead moving it to slide around the back of her head, leaning closer until our foreheads touched together. I waited to see if she would rebel or tense up, and she would very well have been in her rights to have done so. I wouldn’t have expected less but she didn’t even looked surprised. She had her eyes shut, in fact and wore a little smile, I couldn’t quite interpret. “I haven’t got a person in the world I like more than you is why. Even if that means putting up with a snotty little crotch goblin wipin’ his sticky fingers all over my coat and making me relieved I’m sterile.” We both laughed at this and some of the tension evaporated in my chest, giving me the encouragement I needed to chance something I might not have otherwise had the balls to do. I raised my lips and pressed them between her brows, taking in that flowery scent of her hair again as I did. I had really pushed through the barriers tonight and if Eve was hiding any true disgust for my condition, I doubt she could have bitten it down now. But once again, she just gave me a little smile and reached up to squeeze the side of my wrist. I gave her hair a ruffle, hoping to keep it somewhat cool now as I eased back, taking her foot up again and digging my thumb into her heel. “Hope you don’t mind me getting all soppy there, Munch. But you fucking asked for it.”

She gave a soft little chuckle, her expression thoughtful. I wasn’t sure if it was wishful thinking or not, but I could swear that her cheeks looked flushed. I only noticed because they were usually covered by concealer and so the rosy color that might otherwise be seen never peeked through. She _was_ feeling crook as a dog though, and weary to boot so it didn’t necessarily have to mean that she was embarrassed by what I had just done. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” She took another sip from her wine and then cleared her own throat. “Um, John?”

I braced myself for what I figured was the inevitable ‘Hey, you’re a really nice guy and all’ speech, figuring I’d most likely be kicking my own ass in the morning for taking such stupid little chances tonight and ruining the good thing we had going. “Shoot.” I said, sounding much cheerier than a man who was metaphorically strolling out to meet the firing squad. Hoped she was a gal that liked to get it over with in one clean shot. Couldn’t stand those folks who liked to drag shit out.

Eve paused for a minute, which I took as a bad sign and her mouth made various attempts to form words before she aborted them mid-attempt and tried to formulate something else. Finally, after a torturous few moments of her twisting her lips about like she had the taste of something foul on them, she said, “Whatever… choice I make… I just want you to know how happy what you just said makes me.” She met my eyes now and gave me a smile that made the nasty little knot that had been coiling up in my chest, flex loose so I could breathe again. “For you to offer all that… it’s kind of like… there’ll be a place for me to call home if I need it. And that’s something I _so_ desperately need… because this world… it wasn’t anticipating me. So it hasn’t really got a spot to put me just yet.”

They were such sad words and I felt a deep pang of sympathy for her, though her expression clearly said that she hadn’t been fishing for compassion at all. I might have gotten teary myself if I’d been a softer bastard (and maybe just a few more drinks in) but I kept my cool as much as possible, smiling reassuringly. “You’ve always got a place to call home, Munch. So long as I’m walking this earth, all you gotta do is just come find me. I’ll make ya a home outta sand and sticks and we’ll sit our asses next to it, have a drink, a smoke and shoot the breeze. And then your kid can kick the house over and trample it into oblivion. And Dogmeat can take a piss on it.”

She burst out laughing at this and then quickly shushed herself. Her eyes crinkled in such a way that I could tell she was grateful however. “Wow… that was… nearly beautiful, Hancock.”

“You betta believe it. I’ll even barbeque you a Mirelurk, ya want.” I said, giving her a cocky little wink.

“Sounds awesome.” She chortled, polishing off her glass and then eyeing off what remained in the bottle before making a ‘meh’ sound, shrugging and then pouring in a little bit more. Good god, she’d be lucky if she got her ass moving tomorrow; probably have a hangover to end hangovers. She offered me the bottle and despite my better judgement, I took it and chugged back another sip. I felt a little lightheaded, though not entirely from the chems and the alcohol. I felt as though I had survived something; which was not an uncommon feeling in my life but this particular circumstance was one that I had very limited experience in traversing. I was unaccustomed to opening myself up to letting something hurt me. There were a lot of shields I had to drop to let Eve get this close and they all protected vital organs, so to speak. From the vantage point she now enjoyed, the woman was in a position to do me greater harm than just about any other living soul could do.

I lowered the bottle and looked at her, putting the rollie back between my lips and giving it a hard suck to bring the dying ember back to full strength. “I’m serious, you know. You’re the closest thing I’ve got to a best friend in this world. And I… well, I hope you know how much I… how much _you…”_

I stopped myself at this; I couldn’t let her get any closer than this, not right now. And I sure as shit didn’t need to be using Dutch courage to wrangle my way in either. Not to mention that it wasn't fair on her at all. She was the epitome of vulnerable; dealing still with the loss of a beloved husband and fighting every day to bring back a kidnapped child from an uncertain fate. I’m not sure if she knew what exactly I had been inelegantly stumbling towards either but Eve was for her most part taking me as seriously as I needed her to. She didn’t smile at my bumbling attempt at honesty but looked firmly into my own eyes, with great significance.

“You’re never normally this ineloquent, Mr Mayor.” She stated and she smiled then, lowering her gaze before then scooting forward so her knees were bent over my lap. She leaned over, so that our cheeks touched and she pressed her lips there, directly into what had to be some of the very worst of my facial scars. “I know what you're getting at. It's... the same for me too, you know?”

She leaned back, giving me a little pet on my opposite cheek as she drifted away. I wondered if she could hear my heart thudding in my chest; I could feel it resonate in my remembered state, even through the passing of two months. Did she mean this the way that it had sounded? Did she really, truly know the depth of my feelings for her and had just confessed that she felt the same way too? Or were we just having a really mushy drunk friendship moment; the kind that turned most people on to each other? Was this a sign to make my move and kiss her? Was I supposed to have done that before she moved away? She hadn't lingered very long, so I didn't think she had been waiting for me to respond but maybe she got embarrassed herself and didn't want to make it look obvious. Jesus, why was this romance thing so complicated?! I'd _never_ given shit this much thought when it came to the other women in my life. I guess because I hadn't been concerned with losing them the way that I was with Eve. 

“Hey,” She added suddenly, giving a dopey little laugh as though to cover up her embarrassment. “I don’t wanna act like a wimpy bloody woman either darl but would you mind… um…”

“What do you need?” I asked, trying not to let the images of a thousand imagined favours implode inside my head and get me carried away into a state that was only likely to be left unfulfilled. But then I thought, fuck it, I could make a joke out of it and nothing would be less than expected. “Hey, just because we’ve had a few drinks and a coupla kisses, doesn’t mean you can just try and wriggle your way into my pants. Though, if you insist, keep in mind that I’m open to just about everything except having a finger jammed up my ass.”

As expected, she snorted at this and I grinned, secure in the knowledge that what we had wasn’t easily damaged by any moments of tenderness or indeed awkwardness that passed between us. I got the impression that no matter what happened, we would always manage to remain friends and even that much was such a boon to my life.

When Eve had finished making raspberries into her hand, she sighed contentedly and tilted her head in my direction, smiling so genuinely that I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thank God for you, John Hancock, or I would have lost my mind in this messed up world a long time ago,” She said, pulling her legs back up over my lap before swivelling around onto her butt, so that we were now perched side by side. She sidled closer then, reaching out without much hesitation before grabbing my arm and bringing it up around her shoulder with the kind of casualness that a guy would have when carrying a wounded friend from the Commons. She sank against my side with a contended murmur. “Sorry. I know it’s pathetic as shit but I… sure wouldn’t mind just being… close right now. Is this okay?”

“Hey, you know what I’m like when it comes to hugging it up.” I said, wrapping my arm around her and giving her shoulders a squeeze. “You’ve been standing pretty tall for over a year now, kiddo. Don’t be afraid of ever needing anything. You’ve taken very little in your time here, don’t forget.”

When you’re a Ghoul, you kind of learn not to expect too much physical contact, so you tend to lower your expectations in regards to receiving it. Sex is one thing but being held or holding someone was a whole different feeling altogether; comforting and permissible, if that made any sense. You let yourself be seen as weak when you let yourself be held; let them know that you were in need to comfort, that you needed to be taken care of for that one small flash in time. That something was tearing you up inside, that some uncontainable sadness was stealing through your mind that you just couldn’t repress, or fight off or take enough Chems to block out.

I hadn’t really hugged or been hugged by anyone since I had left my family all those years ago and I had almost entirely convinced myself of the fact that I hadn’t missed it. Until I had met Eve. She was a fucking chronic hugger once she got to know someone and she seemed to thrive on that feeling of showing her friends just how much she cared about them. And it was stupid addictive once you got swept up in it.

I hadn’t realized just how much I craved it until I had met Eve and we had held one another for that very first time. Even just as bare acquaintances, it was like something pricked its ears up inside of me. Here it was; that little spoonful of sugar in my bitter coffee, that missing piece which Archie had spoken so articulately about. It was that tender craving for human touch, which had opened my eyes to her, which hijacked my brain and ripped me from my self-assured security.

I thought I knew what addiction was and how to keep it at bay, so that it could never control me. But this here, right here, was the one fucking thing I hadn’t been counting on. Eve was right; the world hadn’t been anticipating her. And neither had I. I had no tolerance for the drug that she kept feeding me; that kept me circling back to the Memory Den, trying to remember how I had lived without those little moments, those sweet touches… that ridiculous, crazy woman who no longer saw herself as desirable and yet who suddenly dominated my horizon.

I sank myself down further into the memory; reaching out with everything I had to try and stretch myself as far into the skin of Past-Hancock as I was able. I focused here and there, wanting to concentrate on every point where our bodies came into contact; her head against my chest, my bicep squeezing around her upper arm, my fingers lightly caressing the bare skin of her elbow. I don’t think we had talked after that; in fact, I think we may have fallen asleep, right there under the window. Only for half an hour or so before I had led her off to bed, where she’d collapsed like a felled tree into her blankets, but it had still been an irresponsible thing to have let happen. The Hancock from ten years earlier would have been blown away if he could see me now. (Though I’m sure he wouldn’t have sniffed at my taste).

How ironic that this time between us had been so relaxed and so casual and yet now I had such rose tinted glasses on when I thought back to it. Everything had a special kind of emphasis; the perception one is only gifted with when they find themselves to be deprived of something and realize that they fucking miss it.

I pushed myself a little further, drawing deeper on the smell of that clean hair and the smooth little patch of skin on Eve’s elbow, when I was jolted suddenly and violently up out of Past-Hancock’s brain like a fish yanked from the water on a hook. Everything shook wildly, as though blending my brain might keep the memories from reforming and a mechanical voice issued a stale, patently unwanted advisement from somewhere unseen:

**_[Due to high level risk of client Entrenchment, session has been terminated by systems administrator as a safety precaution. We apologize for any inconvenience and thank you for your patronage.]_ **

_‘Shit,’_ I thought to myself, wishing my internal self had eyelids that I could clamp shut. All this shaking and whirling was going to make me hurl my figurative guts up. _‘Looks like the gals are stagin’ an intervention… and here was me thinking I was hiding it so well…”_

I was sent spinning up and up, everything spiralling in agonizing circles until a bright flash of light ripped through my brain, bringing my collective consciousness back into one piece, I suppose.

It was never quite like coming out a deep sleep, as you were entirely aware from the moment that you left the memory until the very second you opened your eyes. My stomach was flipping in cartwheels and I could feel the slight stinging, almost tickling sensation of the cranial wires sliding out from the base of my skull and retreating back into the Memory Pods headrest. I was also agonizingly aware that there was a dressing-down imminent.

I didn’t waste any time sitting about reflecting, worried I would only tempt myself to re-visit another memory, if only to escape from what I knew was about to be levelled at me. That was how these things sucked you in and the reason why poor old Kenny-boy had so much difficulty distancing himself from the compulsion. Sometimes I think that the Memory Pods themselves are more addictive than Jet, the way they keep luring you back to them with the promise of fonder feelings at your fingertips. Especially when you consider the fact that working cameras are very rare in the Commonwealth, so we don’t really have the luxury of looking over photographs when we miss someone or some time.

I reached over to press the ‘Exit’ button on the right hand side of the arm rest and the glass dome of the pod swung up, allowing me to exit the lounger. I rolled my legs over the side and dipped my head down, taking a deep breath as a wave of nausea rose up in my stomach. My temples pounded furiously, unforgiving from my second immediate immersion without a break in between, so I took a moment to try and steady myself before moving again.

“It’s not one set of rules for you and another set for everyone else, Mayor Hancock,” Came a scolding voice from my immediate left. I groaned in what I hoped was a sympathy inspiring fashion and rubbed my fingers into my temples, trying without much success to ease the throbbing.

“I hear ya, doc. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be tryin’ to pull a fast one on ya.”

Dr Amari, one of the two proprietors of the Memory Den and the brains behind the science necessary to run it, did not look the least bit impressed. Her hands were perched in the curves of her waist, her white physicians coat adding to the overall impression of severity she was directing at me, whilst her painted lips pressed so tightly together that I could barely discern what color they were. Her eyes seemed more tired than usual, which made me wonder if her bad mood may have had more to do with her burning the midnight oil than it had my little transgression.

“Now don’t scold the poor boy,” Irma crooned from over on her fainting couch. I was a little surprised to hear that she didn’t sound annoyed in the least but sort of affectionate instead. “Surely there must be a part of you that finds it all just the slightest bit romantic, Amari? _Vivre sans aimer n’est pas proprement vivre_ and all that, you know?”

“As usual, I haven’t the foggiest where you pluck these senseless little idioms from Irma, but I would remind you not to encourage his foolishness. It won’t be so _vivre sans_ romantic if he goes and burns his brain out of his skull,” Amari grumbled, kneeling in front of me and then reaching out to yank my left eyelid up without so much as a ‘how do you do’. She shone a light into first this eye and then the other, which made me feel as though she were in fact attempting to burn my brain out. “Although if he hadn’t done that already with all those disgusting chemicals, I don’t suppose he’s going to succeed now.”

“Come on, doc; staring into my eyes and talking dirty like that… you’ll embarrass me,” I said, blinking rapidly as she released my eyes, satisfied it seemed that nothing was out of order. Though I did get a light cuff around my jaw in reprimand.

“You know better than to make me come into a memory after you, John Hancock. You inter yourself that deeply next time and I may not be able to extract you before you burn out all your neural pathways,” She grumbled, climbing to her feet and indicating for me to remain sitting. “Just stay there a moment longer. I might as well take a look at how your leg is coming along. Though why I bother with you, god only knows.”

“Well, I’d suggest that my swarthy good looks and gentlemanly charm have set your girlish heart ablaze but I think we both know that’s not the case,” I teased, raising my brows at her in a meaningful way. She didn’t rise to the bait, maintaining a dignified silence as she crossed the memory den and retrieved her kit from beside the centre console, where she conducted most of her work.

Now, don’t go getting the wrong idea about this exchange; I wasn’t alluding to the doc and I entering into some illicit night time foray of carnal pleasures that she would forever regret and hated to be reminded of. So far as I know, Dr Amari hadn’t engaged with _any_ fella in Goodneighbor in this fashion, and it wasn’t as though she didn’t have her fair share of offers. True, at forty-two she was older than most of the other gals but she wasn’t any less attractive for her maturity. She was one of the few women I knew besides Eve who liked to wear makeup, though not nearly as much as Eve enjoyed pasting on. Amari used a little around her eyes and some rose coloured lipstick. With a clear complexion like hers and her natural olive skin, it’s not like she needed much. She had thick black hair, which she wore with a sweeping jagged fringe across her face, with the rest pulled into a clip behind her head. It always suggested me that she was run flat off of her feet and didn’t want to spare the time to take a brush to it when getting up in the morning. Not to mention that she had some sort of accent, which most of the fellas got all weak kneed about whenever she was trying to have a conversation with them.

She was never very receptive to being flirted with however and it led to a lot of the guys thinking that she was snobby and putting herself up on a pedestal above them. It wasn’t until Adrian, who always had an eye for girls with black hair, made a genuine offer for dinner one night that she came clean about what her deal was. She simply had no interest in men. Not in dating them at least.

I guess she felt that she could be honest with Adrian, since he was one of the few genuinely nice fellas in the town and I suppose she hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings either. He was in fact such a nice guy that he made sure that all the other Watchmen knew, so that they wouldn’t hassle her anymore for dates or make unwanted advances. This of course had voided the docs right to privacy in the first place which she wasn’t pleased about but the poor boy had only thought to do the right thing and help her avoid any further embarrassment.

Not that anyone gave a flying mole rats ass if you were gay or not; there were a number of people in town who already were and not many people were big enough shit heads to give somebody grief about it. Dr Amari was such a sophisticated person however, that I think she most likely just wanted to keep her personal business personal.

Knowing that she was gay did spare the fellas any further bruising to their ego’s; not that they couldn’t benefit from being taken down a peg or two occasionally. I mean, it’s one thing to have a healthy self-esteem, especially if you were a Ghoul but Jesus fucking Christ some of my boys were keen on themselves. And figured that everybody else should be too.

Dr Amari returned to my side, carrying her kit in one hand and a folding chair with the other, which she shook to distend before placing it down opposite where I was sitting. She perched herself on it and then indicated for me to place my big dirty boot up onto her lap, which I did. Suppose I might have helped by taking the shoe off myself but I honestly hadn’t been thinking about it. She did it for me, peeling it off and plonking it onto the floor before giving my sock a sceptical look.

“Well, _that’s_ certainly an interesting color, Mr Hancock,” She stated, snapping on a pair of gloves as she looked first at the sock and then at me with a very dubious expression. Now, I know what you’re probably thinking and no, it wasn’t that the sock was so old and disgusting it had gone a funky color from lack of being washed. It was just a bright, traffic cone orange, which if left out in a dark night could have lit its own path across the Commonwealth.

“Nice, huh? They were a gift from the D-man,” I said, referring of course to Deacon from the Railroad and another of Eve’s little freakish entourage. “Well… gift in the sense that I ‘borrowed’ them one day and then he decided that he didn’t want them back.”

Irma laughed from over on her lounge, taking a sip from her small glass of rum. “Most likely he was worried that you might leave behind another of your toes inside of them, Hancock.”

I chuckled under my breath. “Heh… might have done. If only to see his face when he put the sock back on.”

“You know, sometimes I think that you are finally starting to settle down Mr Hancock and then you go and say things like that,” Dr Amari muttered, rolling up my trouser leg to above the knee and snapping about the Velcro on the compression brace I was wearing. She was smiling though, so I knew she wasn’t really having a go at me.

I did feel a bit sorry for the poor old girl having to deal with a nasty looking leg like mine but she was as professional as always, not so much as squinting her eyes or wrinkling her nose at the sight of my skin.

It was a fair feat as well, considering that my leg was looking even worse than it usually did. The ankle was still a little bowed and the knee was bulgy in places; not to mention the thick vertical scar that run down my shin, from where the doc had to cut inside to realign the bone that was broken. I had so many pins and staples and pieces of metal holding me together inside now, I reckoned I wasn’t too far off being reclassified as the first ever Ghoul-Synth hybrid.

“You’re doing a good job keeping it clean,” Amari observed, gently holding my ankle suspended so she could move the brace out from underneath it. She guided me into bending my knee forward and back a couple of times, checking my manoeuvrability I guess.

“Take off the brace and wash it every day, doc.” I said, thinking that it wasn’t as though I’d had to really alter my routine much to accommodate for my injury. As a Ghoul, you should really be washing every day. Twice, if you had the luxury.  “Doing those exercises as well, like ya told me.”

“Is it starting to feel stronger?” She asked, pressing her gloved fingernails down against my kneecap and pursing her lips at the feeling of the bone shifting underneath. It still hurt like hell to bend it, but I wasn’t about to tell her this.

“Getting there, doc. Don’t need the stick anymore and I can even sink my weight into it when I need to.” I may have been painting a slightly rosier picture of reality but I had an agenda in mind. “So… whaddya reckon? Can I get my stompin’ boots back on and light on outta here soon?”

Now she _did_ look as though she were admonishing me. “Mr Hancock… whilst I can appreciate that you are eager to get back to your little Wasteland wanderings, as your physician I feel I need to advise you to slow down your expectations some. You suffered a serious and very grievous injury, which might have seen you actually lose this leg if you hadn’t received medical attention. Even with Stimpack and radiation treatment, you can’t expect to be up and about jumping off of crumpling buildings and wrestling super mutants after only a month. What, did you think a good nights’ rest is all it takes to heal a crippled limb? Goodness me.”

It wasn’t likely to work, or win me any favours but I creased my eyes up as much as possible and sank my mouth into a sad little line, trying to make my tragic looking mug as unhappy and pathetic as possible. Whilst it might have worked on an old soft-touch like Eve, Dr Amari wasn’t having a bar of it.

“And there’s no use looking at me like some poor dog caught out in the rain,” She rebuked, though I saw her mouth lift in the corner a little as I gave my bottom lip a little wobble, as though I were about to cry. “You need at least a few more weeks off of it and that’s all there is to it. If you like, start by taking off the brace and walking unsupported. If you’re able to stand that for a while, then you’ll know that you’re well on your way.”

I groaned as I reattached the brace, thinking it was better to just have it around my leg for now, rather than carrying it tucked under my arm. “A couple more weeks? Jesus doc, do you know what you’re doing to me? A couple of weeks is all it might take for some sweet talking smooth skin to go muzzle in on Eve. Then, I’m going to have to kill the bastard and _that_ sure as hell won’t be winning me any points.”

Dr Amari sighed, apparently having no patience for hard earned romance and climbed to her feet, snapping her gloves off as she went. “All I can say to that, is that if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. And, oh,” She added as an afterthought, pointing one of her now glove free fingers at me. “Would you please remind Melanie to come check back in with me? We were supposed to have a follow up appointment but she hasn’t been back around to make one. I’m a little worried that her wound may have gotten worse.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what the doc was referring to and I raised my brow at her as I slid my boot back on my foot and eased myself slowly out of the Memory Pod. “Fahrenheit’s been injured? That’s weird, I saw her before coming over here and she never said a word.”

Amari made an ironic little huff as she rolled her gloves into a ball and tossed them into a nearby trashcan. “Well, that’s just like her, now isn’t it? She came in last week with a deep cut to the back of her upper thigh. Said she was intervening in a bar fight down in the Third Rail when she stumbled and landed on some broken glass. I ran some stitches through it but a cut that deep requires regular ongoing maintenance. You ask her to come back in and see me please, or else I’ll be making a trip to the Statehouse myself and pulling her trousers down in front of everyone to take the stitches out.”

“And wouldn’t she love _that_ ,” I said, laughing as I plucked my hat off of one of the chairs nearby and dropped it down over my skull. I did think it was a little odd however that Fahrenheit hadn’t mentioned anything to me. True the girl was as tough as BBQ grilled Deathclaw steak and she probably didn’t see the need to clue me in over an accidental injury like that, but I couldn’t even recall her telling me about having to break up a bar fight in the Third Rail. Far as I could recall, there hadn’t been one of those in some months actually. Which hey, called for a new record. “I’ll get onto her, doc. You know what she’s like; probably rubbed a big handful of salt into it and figured that’d do it.”

“You’re as bad as each other,” Amari grumbled, though she smiled as she said it, grabbing up her doctors kit and carrying it back over onto the raised platform where she and Irma were set up. I followed her over, reaching into a number of my pockets as I went in order to extract the bags of caps that I had pre-prepared for the transaction. I always put fifty caps in each bag and I now placed five of these on the table by Irma’s side.

“Here,” I said, giving her a smile. “And a little extra for helping myself.”

Irma returned my smile with genuine feeling. For having worked together and being very close in age, she and Dr Amari couldn’t be more different in looks and personality. Where the doc was serious and to the point, Irma was playful and evasive. Where Amari preferred practical clothing and didn’t occupy herself too greatly with appearance, Irma dressed flamboyantly, most often swanning about on her fainting couch in a red corset style dress with big fluffy purple feathers around the collar. She also paid a great deal more attention to her appearance; teasing her blonde hair up into an old fashioned sort of coil and styling her makeup so expertly that she almost bore the appearance of a pre-war china doll. Where Amari lacked interest in men (and relationships in general it seemed), Irma thrived in the company of males, never seeming to be short of someone to spend the night with. Strangely enough, I had never been one of them, though you would think that our nether regions might have crossed paths at some point considering how promiscuous we both happened to be in the earlier years. Another small mystery that, though it was preferable that it hadn’t happened given that she was running a business in the town that I was overseeing and all sorts of conflict can come out of the toxic little cocktail that comes from mixing work and pleasure.

When it came to their minds however, both women were very intelligent. Irma was a shrewd businesswoman; aware that the service she provided was in great demand and capitalizing on it appropriately. Not to say that their prices weren’t fair; far from it and hey, everyone’s gotta make a living somehow, am I right?

At the end of the day, they were both survivors and Irma especially so. Though she hadn’t ever been very upfront about her life before Goodneighbor, what we could gather was that it had been something of a struggle. If we’re to be honest though, whose hasn’t?

“You don’t need to worry about shelling out for the second session, Hancock,” Irma murmured, offering me a box of matches as I popped a cigarette out of the pack in my pocket and placed it between my lips. I was dying for a smoke and I knew Irma didn’t mind if I lit up where I was standing, as she spent a great deal of her day smoking from her little sofa. “Just pay us for the first and we’ll say nothing more.”

I struck one of the matches and lit the tip of the cigarette, grunting at Irma with a little annoyance. It always pissed me off when people tried to give me little discounts or refuse caps from me on account of the fact that I was the Mayor. I mean, I could understand when Chuck did it; I was the owner of the Third Rail, so any funds that were refused on his behalf, ultimately just stayed in my pocket, which they would have returned to eventually anyway. But getting freebies and shit just wasn’t how I rolled. That was _really_ taking advantage and folks couldn’t be affording to make concessions like that.

“Now don’t you go palavering to me, Irma. You know better than that.” I said, taking a drag on the cigarette before reaching over to tap some ash into the tray by her lounge. It never ceased to amaze me how surreal the feeling was; to have been experiencing a memory where I was drunk, stoned and had satisfied my cigarette cravings, only to wake up and be completely sober and hankering for a smoke.

Irma gave me a patient smile, her red lips poised into a near perfect heart shape. “Now I think you know that I would never try a thing like that,” She said, in a tone that only made me feel like she was playing to my ego. “You’ve had a sad little face on you ever since you came back to town, John. Like your heart went and broke along with your leg. And I for one couldn’t bear to wring profit from a man pining for a lost love. Do me more good to think that we had helped cheer you up a little, honey.”

“As usual Irma, you are as kind as you are beautiful,” I said, smiling as I lifted her hand from where it lay draped along the side of the fainting couch and bringing her knuckles flush against my lips, giving her the customary kiss which finalized all our transactions. “But try not to worry so much, huh? Guy as bad and as ugly as me can take care of himself.” I gave her a wink as I turned and waved a hand over my shoulder, drawing back another hit of the cigarette as I went. “Have a lovely rest of the day, won’t you ladies? Make sure to take some time to check out the festivities in the square, huh?”

I heard Amari groan from behind me, already firmly entrenched back behind her computer screen I imagined. “It’ll just be more injuries for me to have to sop up one after another tomorrow night, Hancock. I hardly see the festive side to it.”

“Take care of yourself, Mr Mayor,” Irma called after me, her fluting voice breaking into a chuckle at her business partners lack of enthusiasm.

I was closing in on the hall door when I nearly collided headfirst with Kent Connolly, who came careening out of his rented room with a jumble of assorted cords, speakers and other fancy shit that I couldn’t even begin to get my head around. Kent was the manager of the towns local radio station, which pretty much blared out consecutive repeats of some old pre-war show called ‘The Silver Shroud’. Kent actually manned the booth, produced the content, edited what content there was and occasionally conducted interviews with some of the locals; in so few words, he _was_ the Goodneighbor radio station.

Kent was sort of an unknown quantity within the town; considered by some to be a pitiable figure and by others as a dopey fruitcake, who was only two Immersions away from bringing on premature brain rot and going feral. Given that the guy was one of two pre-war Ghouls in the town, with the only other being Daisy, you had to give him some credit for managing to survive through two centuries of what had to be some pretty crazy and horrifying shit. How he got as far as he did, I don’t know, because he was a nervous fella with a demeanour like a big, innocent kid. Kind of like Adrian really but without Adrian’s massive girth to give him some leverage where his lack of fighting skills and conviction might have otherwise failed him.

I genuinely liked the guy though; his heart was in the right place, though he may have been a little too idealistic for his own good. Like myself, he couldn’t stand victimization and hated the idea of crooks getting away with the bad shit that they pulled. Which led to him dragging Eve into some pretty interesting little expeditions and thus giving me a story to tell at parties for years to come.

Right now however, he had a panicked look on his scarred face; the red veins which surrounded the blue pupils of his eyes standing out more than ever in the awning cavern left behind by his pitched lids. I held out my free hand to slow him down, causing him to fumble some of the cords as he bumbled to a stop.

“Whoa, take it easy there, killer. Rushing around like that, you’re gonna break both our good legs,” I said, leaning down to pick up the cord from where it had fallen on the ground. I gestured to the load in his arms. “Here. Give me some of that shit before you lose it all over the floor. Come on now.”

“Oh, gee… thanks, Hancock,” Kent mumbled, gingerly passing over a big black box with a bunch of dials and knobs affixed to it at every which angle. Something to do with editing, I guess. “Sorry about that. I’m run flat off of my feet at the moment. All those guys from Grand Lanta have just arrived and they want to take Magnolia through some of their content. And wouldn’t you know it, some of their equipment got damaged on the way here, so I’m trying to find substitutes where I can. Starting to think I’ll need to be calling in a favour with Travis in Diamond City, but I’m guessing they won’t be too happy to see me go strolling in there-”

I held up a hand towards him again, smiling indulgently as I gave his fedora a quick skew on his head. “Hey, you’re rambling again, Kenny-boy. Try and relax a little, would ya? It’ll all come together.”

Kent sighed, pushing the brim of his hat back above his brow; looking all for the world like he had the weight of the Commonwealth sitting on his shoulders. “That ain’t the half of it, Hancock. Be easier if it was, you know?” He grumbled as we made our way towards the Memory Dens entrance. “See, Adrian was supposed to be helping Miss Magnolia settle in with the Lanta crew… since he knows them already, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, he was also gonna be taking her through some of the songs she’ll be singing. It’s a different style than she’s used to, so I think she was kinda relying on Adrian to guide her through but he just sort of wandered off and left her to it.”

I frowned, thinking that this sort of dick move was very unlike Adrian, who was so sensitive to other peoples feelings and a consummate gentleman. “Jesus… are you kidding me? What the hell is he thinking up and leaving Mags in that sort of situation? She doesn’t even know those guys.”

“It gets worse,” Kent stated, stopping just before we pushed the door open, looking about as awkward as a grown man could look. If Ghouls could blush, I imagined that his face would have been Tato red by that point. “She’s asking me to step in because I know all the songs from before the War, so I can help her learn the sound. I’m so darned embarrassed, I thought about slipping back into one of the Memory Pods and just avoiding going back out there but…” He pursed his lips together tightly, glancing towards the door in a rictus of internal conflict. “I think Miss Magnolia’s really uncomfortable just hanging out with those guys. I mean, they seem friendly enough but they’re kinda clicky, you know? I didn’t feel like I could just abandon her… so now I’m stuck making a laughing stock of myself in front of the whole town. And they already think I’m a big enough schmooze as it is!”

I took another puff of my cigarette before placing it back between my lips and using my now freed hand to give him a cuff about the upper arm. “Don’t go thinkin’ like that. What you’re doin’ for that gal is awesome, and a fella that watches out for a lady like that is definitely not a schmooze in my book. I’ll go have a chat with BC and find out what’s goin’ on and get you off the hook if I can.”

Kent sighed, his shoulders sinking down with obvious relief. “Oh, thanks Hancock. I mean, it’s not that I mind helping out Miss Magnolia and all but I really don’t think she needs to put herself through hearing me try to sing.” He chuckled self-mockingly as he pushed the door open letting me walk out ahead of him into the afternoon light of Goodneighbor. As I stepped through, the electrical cord of the box I was carrying trailed along behind like an afterthought, snagging in the doorway so that it wouldn’t close completely.

Such a fitting little metaphor for my life these days; my eyes having focused on other things, I was unable to see the snares I had created for myself until they caught and held me from moving forward. The town that I had reclaimed in the name of liberty now felt like a cage in which I nursed my healing leg; waiting for all those little hooks to be slipped from my skin so I could move once again.

  **~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Bit of a weak note to end it on, sorry guys but it does head into another scene like directly afterwards and I couldn't possibly add any more content to this chapter... I mean, it was starting to turn into its own freakin' novel.
> 
> Eve seems to be a very common name for Fallout characters, doesn't it? I chose it back when playing Fallout 3 actually, because I'm a huge fan of the Parasite Eve games. The surname Hallows comes from the name of a river up near where my family has a coastal shanty; the river is actually called Dark Hallows. Pretty badass, huh?
> 
> I opened up a lot of questions with this chapter and I can guarantee that they all get answered in the following chapters at some point. The thing with the wires in the Memory Pods though... I don't know, just my own little interpretation of how they might possibly work. Bit Matrix-y really but I was working with what Fallout 4 gave me pretty much, so, um yeah... Science!
> 
> Chark: Marijuana doesn't exist in the Fallout world but it absolutely bugs me that they don't seem to have any Chems that they can just chill out to. So, bit of creative license with Chark, which is named pretty much for its main ingredient: Ash blossom. (Charcoal, right? Yeah I know... soooo creative.) It's also composed of a number of other flower based ingredients like mutated fern, etc. I imagine guys in the Fallout universe would just mix it in with tobacco and it makes you relax a whole bunch, whilst giving you maybe a little of the giggling that marijuana would, though not as severe.
> 
> Thanks for reading guys and for being so patient whilst I cranked this chapter out. Things will start moving on a bit more in the next chapter... I hope. I have that little sentence description in my head again, which probably means that it's going to be about a hundred pages about Hancock having a smoke and talking to a dirty mattress or some shite. Ah well, take care my darlings and enjoy the new DLC! Make yourself a nice shiny robot and assume the position if you so choose! :)  
> Until next time! xxx ooo


	3. Mrs Inbetween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just outside of Goodneighbor, Eve and her companions run into trouble when they are ambushed by Raider's. The fallout from this encounter is plenty of food for thought, as Eve realizes she has reached a critical point in her journey where tough decisions have to be made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters utilized in the following narrative are the copyright of Bethesda and all of their affiliated writers, designers, artists, sandwich artists, lunch persons, administration officers, belittled work place students, customer care coordinators, Human resource personnel, cleaning crew and that stupid little skinny man who raises his hand way too high during company meetings and surreptitiously files complaints to HR about all his fellow employees stealing his staples and Tippex and refusing to replace them or refund him for the expended amount.
> 
> A/N: Hi again, everyone. Goodness me, I’m so sorry for the tardiness of this new chapter. I have been away with the hubby on our Honeymoon for over three weeks; floating about on a cruise ship in the middle of the god damned ocean. And eating way too much intensely rich buffet food which made my stomach all jiggly. I still managed to get a bit of writing done here and there but being my honeymoon, I wasn’t permitted to dedicate myself entirely to the story and had to go off and watch husbando sing wildly passionate Karaoke to half the ships elderly population while I drank enough wine to make it funny. Ah, the memories that will last a life time. 
> 
> So, to make up for the delay, I am giving you guys a special deal with a two-part chapter. This chapter has been broken in half, since as usual I wrote way too much to squash all into one update. The second half is very close to completion, only a few scenes to be finished up but I really didn’t want to wait much longer to get something out. So you guys get to have part one now and part two will quite literally be only a few days away. I would have liked to have gotten them both out in one go but with this part already done, I figure it would just be sitting on my hard drive doing nothing anyway.  
> I’ve been trying not to rush anything either, which is hard because I made a vow that I would not play Far Harbour until I had the chapters completed, which is akin to holding a piece of meat out to a hungry dog and making it bark for it. Which just seems to suggest that I am sitting here dribbling all over my keyboard… which is probably a pretty reasonable assessment!
> 
> Another thing; Strong, Preston and Danse do not appear as companions in this story. Preston and Danse do appear at some point but their particular affiliations did not factor in to Eve's journey. And as a character, I don't think she would have coped particularly well with Strong being around. But that's just this story. It's nothing personal with the characters themselves.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy guys! It’s very long and sort of in depth but that’s why I tell no lie when I said that I like to write in an uncensored way. See you in the home run! Xxx ooo

> _You have no enemies, you say?_
> 
> _Alas, my friend, the boast is poor._
> 
> _He who has mingled in the fray of duty_
> 
> _That the brave endure, must have made foes._
> 
> _If you have none, small is the work that you have done._
> 
> _You’ve hit no traitor on the hip._
> 
> _You’ve dashed no cup from perjured lip._
> 
> _You’ve never turned the wrong to right._
> 
> _You’ve been a coward in the fight._
> 
> **_~ Charles MacKay ~_ **

 

** Evelyn Hallows **

 

**_A hop, skip and a throw from Goodneighbor – Current Day…_ **

 

You’d think that I would be used to it by now; all the stupid shit that has happened to me since I crawled out of Vault 111.

I mean, let’s face it; playing Popsicle for over two-hundred years and then being thawed out in a Post-Apocalyptic hell was strange enough. Never mind the raging injustice of seeing my husband; the man who I had loved and been with since I was twenty-one, shot and killed before my eyes and my son snatched from his arms and ferried off to God knows what fate the Institute had in store for him.

It might sound melodramatic and indulgent to say so, but in my weaker moments I allowed myself to be carried away with the feeling that right off the bat; the cards had been stacked against me. Everything I had once held to be secure and unchangeable had been pitilessly stripped away to reveal an internal structure far more rotten, frail and intensely vulnerable than I could ever have imagined.

I’m still not sure how I made it so far. I mean, I have seen some _shit_ this past year and a bit and managed to survive some pretty hairy situations by the bare skin of my teeth. And this was in no small part due to the unerring and honestly rather baffling support from the people I had been travelling with; people who no doubt viewed me the same way folks in my time might have done a big dopey dog with no survival instincts or traffic sense; with a begrudging sense of responsibility. And they wouldn’t be wrong for viewing me this way either. This was not the world that I knew and I was as out of place within it as an angora sweater is on a deep sea diver. I would never be able to repay these desperately patient and equally bizarre companions of mine for all the crap they had put up with on my behalf; not if I lived for another two-hundred years.

We had all gone through some shit. _I_ had gone through some shit, before meeting a single one of them, as a matter of fact. I’ve had menopausal Deathclaws eager to break off a piece of my ass, Super Mutants trying to deep six me with nail boards that were big enough to swat Airbus’s out of the sky and Mirelurks who wanted nothing more than to tear what was left of my worn out body into roughly five or six snack sized chunks and feed me to their horrible squealing little devil broods.

I’ve endured Stingwing bites, spontaneous Bloat Fly combustions to the face, radioactive rain, food poisoning, severe menstrual cramps and on one bizarre occasion, an unexplainable reoccurrence of breast lactation, which had been a fucking nightmare to try and hide. If this wasn’t enough, I was probably one of the very few people in the entire Wasteland who had survived a Feral Ghoul attack and _only_  because the Feral itself had no interest in trying to kill me. Nope. The horrid thing had actually pinned me to the ground and started _humping_ me instead. And do you think anyone else in the group tried to help? Nope. They all just stood around and laughed. Curie made notes and said _''Ow interesting'_ in her sexy little French accent. Piper wrote an article about it for the _Publick Occurrences_. Concocted a real romantic twist and everything just to ‘liven up the story’. Mean bastards.

So, you would think that I would stop being surprised by all the messed up shit that keeps happening to me. You would think that after a year and so many months of running around this crazy, unpredictable version of the world I once knew, that I might be hardened enough to stop letting things rile me up.

Or so I had thought; right up until the present moment, which saw a Raider with his hand jammed into the back pocket of my jeans. The guy wasn’t even trying to be subtle about the fact that he was using this as an excuse to cop a feel either; he had exhausted my back pockets of the few minimal items I had tucked into them at least two minutes ago.

Whinging aside, I suppose it could be worse; I could have been like poor MacCready; who had been taking a dump in what he thought to have been a shady little alcove, nose buried in a copy of _The Untouchables_ , when a group of Raider’s got the jump on him. Barely let the poor guy pull his dacks back up before they’d frog marched him back over to our encampment, knife to his throat and with numerous demands to toss down weapons and hand over belongings. I don’t think I have ever seen anyone look both so pissed off and so… physically repressed at the same time.

Piper hadn’t fared much better. She had been in the midst of changing her shirt; the weather having been so unseasonably muggy that she had sweated right through the top she had been wearing. The Raider’s hadn’t been exactly generous with allowing her to finish getting dressed either. They’d simply forced her onto her feet, making her drop the shirt and stand there in only her bra and trousers. You can bet the fucked up bunch of perverts were really getting their rocks off on that.

I turned my head ever so faintly and glanced over my shoulder at the Raider who now had his hand buried inside of my back right hand pocket, his fingers tufting up against my ass with not the slightest semblance of subtlety. “You’re just having fun now, asshole.” I hissed, wanting to lean back and stamp on his feet to teach him a lesson but I dared not move. When the Raider’s had rounded up on us, I quickly stood over Dogmeat and pinched his body between my calves, using all my strength to try and keep him from attacking. Knowing what these dicks were usually like, they would have shot him without batting an eyelid and I could no sooner risk that than I could risk deep throating the end of a rifle barrel myself. Dogmeat wasn’t happy with the situation any more than I was and his low growls seemed to suggest that any wrong move on the Raider’s part and he would be at their throats faster than I could slam my knees together.

The Raider heaved a throaty chuckle as he yanked his hand out from my pocket and swung it up to cup me beneath the chin, using his fingers to force my lips into a painful pucker. “Ain’t even started to have fun with you yet, girlie.” He hissed, dropping his white scum tinged tongue from his mouth and sliding it up along my cheek, leaving a sticky, no doubt pungent streak of saliva in its wake. Jesus, what was it with these stereotyped sexually focused scare tactics? Way these assholes carried on whenever they caught a woman, you would think they’d been in a submarine sausage factory for six months of the year.

Dogmeat growled threateningly at seeing the piece of shit grab my face, so I redoubled my efforts to not cry out or make any noise that would incite him to attack. This was a delicate situation, which was only likely to worsen if anyone lost their cool.

Fortunately, the group of people I happened to be travelling with were a fairly centred bunch (most of them anyway) and were not the least bit interested in bucking the apple cart just for vanity’s sake.

Nick Valentine, the man (or synth) who most often acted as our voice of reason and unspoken guardian, held his arms on either side of his head, complicit in remaining as calm as he most usually was. His damaged face circled back and forth between myself, Piper and the Raider closest to him; ensuring I think that no harm would come to the two of us who were under immediate duress and also to keep note of any slip ups the Raider might make that he in turn might take advantage of.

Codsworth hovered off to the left of him, as still and as quiet as his internal humming mechanics allowed him to be. He too was keeping a close bead on me, though this wasn’t surprising given that he was the Mr Handy robot that had been assigned to my family since before the bombs fell. Despite showing a great deal of fondness for the others in the group, I was considered to be his first and foremost responsibility. This loyalty was admittedly a predominant facet of his programming and not something that he was simply unable to shirk in favour of any other person’s in the group. Not unless I directed him to do so, of course.

At Codsworth’s side, Railroad agent and resident ‘funny-man’ Deacon gazed about the proceedings with a sort of glib expression on his face, lips quirked into that familiar little twist which suggested that he wanted to crack a joke but was holding himself back. Not that I had ever known him to do this; guy loved the sound of his own voice too much, though I suppose I’m hardly one to talk. He was dressed even more bizarrely than usual today, with pink leopard print patterned trousers that he had unearthed from God knows where, a red sleeveless vest with green sweatbands (bearing the flag of Australia, for some reason) around his wrists and pink boots that looked suspiciously like galoshes. His usual black pompadour wig and matching shades completed the whole bizarre attire, set off by his trademark quirky grin curling up furtively from the bottom of his face. Not sure what exactly he was supposed to be disguising himself as today but my best guess would be ‘dude most likely to get himself sniped between buildings’ because only a blind, dead hobo could have missed _that_ attire. Always seemed a shame that Deacon was messing around with his appearance the way that he was; guy was actually handsome when he wasn’t having his face tucked and pulling on every piece of weird clothing that he stumbled across.

Cait stood beside him and though I had my initial doubts about whether she was going to be able to hold it together, the fiery red-head had managed so far to keep her yap buttoned. A minor miracle. She looked rather bored with the proceedings, in fact, resting the palms of her hands on the crown of her head whilst staring up along the line of the buildings around us and sighing as though she were a school child being forced to endure an interminably boring educational excursion. I don’t think she was half as concerned with her own safety as I was. It was a hot day and Cait having little to no regard for good old fashioned modesty had just gone ahead and unbuttoned the top two clasps of her corset style top, allowing a good portion of her breasts to go on display for the general population. Which wouldn’t have bothered me if it had just been a bunch of us girls travelling about and there weren’t gangs of marauding perverts on the loose around every corner but that wasn’t the case. The dirty bastards were having a right proper smorgasbord in visual treats, constantly swivelling their eyes back to poor Piper’s almost bare upper torso and Cait’s swelling assets just threatening at any moment to roll on out.

Curie was standing just slightly back from the circle, one slender ankle crossed neatly behind the other and an obliquely curious expression on her smooth, flawless face. Being a Miss Nanny, whose personality had been rerouted into the body of a Gen-3 Synth, I'm not certain how much fear she was actually capable of processing but she certainly didn't appear to be as tense as the rest of us. I imagined that she was probably making notes of the situation in her head. More data to 'combat her hypotheses', as she liked to say.

MacCready was the main reason we all had to behave ourselves; otherwise we might have put up more of a fight, caught off guard or not. Poor guy had been dragged back here with a knife at his neck and very obviously threatened with serious head to body separation if we didn’t conform. MacCready was a hell of a fighter and ordinarily I think he would have roughed himself out of this situation without any difficulty but we were all a little hamstrung, I think, by one another. You come to care about a group of people you’ve been travelling with for a year and you start making your decisions a little bit differently than you might otherwise have done. The same went for us; MacCready was a grown man, capable of taking care of himself but he was one of us and the youngest (human) in the group at twenty-three. Not to say that we treated him like a baby on account of this slight age discrepancy  but we sure as shit didn’t wanna see the guy get hurt or killed if we could avoid it. He played the tough guy well but he was sensitive on some matters; particularly anything that had to do with his own son. This weighed heavy on our minds as well, particularly mine. No one wanted to be responsible for a little boy losing his daddy.

It was Piper, I think, who was actually most at risk of upsetting the hair thin balance we had so far managed to maintain with these unscrupulous Raider’s. Being forced to stand so that everyone could see her half-naked had naturally embarrassed and pissed her off. Piper was a fierce feminist and resented the fact that she was being forced by these cretins to do anything that put her in a position to be used for their own amusement or arousal, both of which were applicable here. She glared like a voracious cornered animal, managing to keep her arms up on the crown of her head after one smart smack to her bare shoulders prevented her from crossing them over her breasts. I could hear her breathing in and out of her nose from opposite me, looking like she was mere seconds away from diving onto her gun, which had been kicked into the centre of the group, along with all our bags. I kept catching her eye and mouthing ‘No’, giving a small, almost imperceptible shake of my head whenever I saw her glance towards the middle of the circle. If she moved now, before we had any real idea of a plan, I wasn’t sure how we would prevent both Dogmeat and McCready from being killed.

The Raider’s weren’t paying a huge amount of attention to me, not the way that they were the other girls. I was older, I suppose, having a good four years on Piper and three on Cait and with short messy hair, compared to their longer, more feminine locks. Bigger too; with broad shoulders, a round rump and heavy breasts that I loathed for their unrivalled ability to somehow weigh more than their size suggested. I was heavier than Cait, who though muscular had a smaller frame than me, shaped more athletically than Piper and nowhere even in the league of Curie who was long, lean and regally toned. In so few words, I wasn’t exactly the svelte little number that most men would search out of a crowd in order to sink their teeth into. Not that this mattered much when it came to men like the Raider’s; malodorous thugs who possessed no morals, no standards and whose perceptions of women were subsequently blinkered to a pair of tits and a functional vagina.

In hindsight; I suppose it didn’t hurt that I had been fully dressed when the Raider’s had bounced up on us. And dressed more modestly than Cait at that; in a pair of blue jeans, boots and a white round neck t-shirt. One thing I did regret was that I had retouched my makeup only a minute beforehand. … Well, retouched might not be so accurate a term as ‘embellished’ if we’re going to split hairs. I’d been wanting to look nice for when we waltzed into Goodneighbor and after a full day on the road, getting dusty and sweaty, I sure as shit looked far from that.

And now here I was, all tarted up with shadowed eyes, highlighted cheekbones and painted lips; looking like I was getting ready for the Prom. It hadn’t been the Raider’s who I had been trying to pretty myself up for, of course but I imagine that all this work wouldn’t fool them into believing that I was in fact just a very feminine looking cross-dressing boy. For once in my life I wouldn’t have cared if they had made this particular gaff and I had hence forth done my utmost to affect a look of irredeemable ugliness and testosterone laced butch-ness. Mustn’t have worked too well because I’d already received a good grope to the backside. Unless of course the Raider who had been feeling me up was into cross dressing boys. Wouldn’t have surprised me.

I took a moment to re-evaluate the situation as quickly as I could. There were only five Raider’s in the immediate area, whilst a sixth was conducting a sweep of the buildings around us. We had them outnumbered by two extra people – well, one person and one canine to be specific – and a cursory examination of their physical condition assured me that in a hand to hand fight, we would be more likely to come out on top. They had very little evidence of muscle and body fat, which was a running standard of most Raider’s as the Chems they were so partial to acted as an appetite suppressant and these assholes did precious little besides drink, get high and kill shit. And not even in a fun way like Hancock liked to do.

I felt a sharp little pang of yearning pass through the pit of my stomach at the thought of him. I had been so anxious to get back to Goodneighbor to see him again and here we were, less than five blocks from the gate when this had to go and happen. Though it was probably a good thing that this _hadn’t_ happened whilst he had been travelling with us. This wasn't the first time Raider’s had held us up and based on those few instances, Hancock had not reacted well to some of the liberties they had taken with the female members of the group. If he had just seen my ass being groped, I reckon he would have broken the offending Raider’s mitt off at the wrist and then forced the severed hand down his throat, fingers first. Man could not stand to see others being victimized or bullied; in fact, he seemed to have an irrepressible urge to physically ‘educate’ those who indulged in this cruel and violent behaviour. Most often to brutal and bloody ends.

On this occasion however, it was Piper who seemed unable to control her temper. Seeing my face being jerked about the way it was must have have pushed her to breaking point because she suddenly let out a muffled shriek of frustration and hurled her arms down from her head to fist furiously at her sides. I shook my head as firmly as I was able, mouthing ‘ _No, no, NO’_ with increasing urgency but Piper was no longer looking directly at me; her green eyes were flashing feverishly in the direction of the Raider at my side and her rigid posture all but suggested that she was set to launch herself across the bags and bite him.

“Yeah all right, you scumbags, we _get it!_ Ooh, look at the big scary Raider’s, getting the jump on a bunch of wandering idiots out in the Wasteland!” She snapped sarcastically, with eyes so intense I imagined they could burn twin holes through a Death Claws hide. “You think it’s fun, do you? Trying to scare the shit out of a bunch of people just trying to get by? Well, I suggest you keep your fucking hands to yourself before you even _think_ about touching any of us again, you piece of shit!”

It was the sass and the mocking wit that I had always come to expect from the fiery tempered reporter but beneath it was the underlying presence of fear which always haunted her whenever we were caught in a situation like this. I wasn’t immune either; as a woman in this world you quickly develop a heightened awareness of the fact that for all the bullets in your fanny pack, all the smarts buried deep in the nodules of your brain, all the myriad ways you have learned to squirm and fight and wriggle your way out of any situation you land yourself in, you are never completely safe from the threat of rape. Piper had once told me that she was one of the very few women that she knew of who _hadn’t_ been raped out in the Commonwealth and she intended to keep this record intact for as long as possible. I too was fortunate enough to be in this category. Somewhat. Cait on the other hand wasn’t. Not that this in any way made her less vulnerable or less important to protect. In so saying, there was never any guarantee that the boys themselves were beyond risk, either. Sometimes, I truly feel that we spent more time being afraid of sexual assault than we did being killed. Still, not like any of these pantywaists had been dry-humped by a Feral Ghoul; so there you go.

The Raider at my side immediately released my cheeks, leaving two sore points just on either side of my lips as he stepped over the baggage towards Piper. I called out immediately, trying to divert his attention back to me.

“Look, she didn’t mean anything by it. She’s just scared and angry, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about!”

Normally I would never think to suggest to Piper that she had nary a clue as to what she was talking about; girl was as sharp as a whip and knew her own mind far too well. But if making her out to be some addled idiot was going to keep her from getting hurt, then I was definitely going to shoot for that angle.

The Raider wasn’t listening to me though, which I had already guessed might be the case given that Piper presented much more alluring quarry in the form of her half naked body. He grabbed her by the throat, half hoisting her so that she could feel the pressure against her windpipe as he brought her up on the tips of her toes. I don’t suppose he could have raised her any higher, given the weakness in his body but it was enough to make his point.

“Hey little Reporter chick, you wanna learn to keep your mouth _shut_ before it goes and lands you in a shit load of trouble,” He hissed, using the barrel of the gun to trail down from her neck, between her breasts and further still until halting at her belt buckle. He tapped the metal together twice, before then lowering the barrel and bringing it up sharply between her legs, not striking her but exerting pressure up hard into her groin. She yelped at the force being applied and the rest of us were all yelling in tandem now, which forced me to lower one hand to hold Dogmeat’s collar tightly as he was trying to lunge from between my thighs; spurred on by the outlet of sudden emotion.

The other three Raider’s immediately turned on us, guns aimed squarely at Nick, Deacon and myself; apparently viewing us as the three largest threats to contend with. Which was a bad mistake on their part, given that Cait could give anyone a run for their money and that was without the added muscle of a weapon. I guess it was because I was bigger and taller than her that I looked more imposing. Or maybe because I had a snapping, snarling German Shepard between my legs; one or the other.

“You cut that bullshit out right now and let her go!” Nick said, in his loud ‘not quite yelling but still being pretty darn firm’ voice. He looked about as pissed off as a pock marked old Synth could look, the pseudo muscles in his brows arching down severely over his yellow eyes. This was a sight that would cower most people but these Raider’s obviously didn’t have either enough sense to be frightened or were too high to experience the emotion.

"Yes, I do 'ave to agree." Curie added, a small line appearing between her brows. She looked so delicate standing there, her blue sequined dress shimmering in the suns unremitting light. The Raider's probably thought we were ferrying around some beautiful VIP from an outlying settlement or something because she certainly didn't have the appearance of your average Commonwealth resident. "This show of force is completely unwarranted and over excessive."

“See that? Looks like your little friends are worried about you.” The Raider holding Piper said, tapping her twice between the legs. “Might do you good to worry a little about yourself, huh Princess?”

Piper flinched, her lips drawn back in obvious pain from the dual points of pressure being exerted against her. I prayed that she could put her self-respect on hold for just one minute in order to bring things back to a median level from which we could then formulate a plan but I don’t think she had it in her to make that concession. “Go… to hell!” She spat, teeth clenched with furious, uncompromising intent.

This invitation did not much suit the Raider and his pinched, rat-like face became all the more impacted in his fury. He used the hand on her neck to toss her down onto the ground, where she landed on her front, coughing and trying to catch her breath. The air must have been pushed out of her lungs from the impact, never mind from the restriction to her throat. The other Raider’s turned just enough to jeer on in encouragement, watching as their buddy moved to stand on either side of Piper’s felled body. He reached down, grabbing the strap on the back of her bra and hoisted her so that her torso was suspended above the ground. The clasps didn’t come free so the Raider instead used the thick band to drop her chest and stomach back down onto the ragged tarmac, causing her to cry out as her unprotected skin took the full impact of the ground beneath her.

“You fucki-friggin’ stop that!!” MacCready yelled, and I couldn’t help but admire his commitment not to curse even in a situation as horrible as this one. I on the other hand had no such restrictions and watching my friend being bounced around like a basketball sent my temper flaring. I surged forward, intending to throw myself between the Raider and Piper, all the while trying to keep control of Dogmeat. This proved to be my undoing. The Raider who had his gun trained on me, one of the few pricks who had a bit of body to him, snared my free arm and yanked me off balance. I swore and cursed, calling him every name I could lay my tongue to as I kept my grip firmly entrenched about Dogmeat’s collar. He was pulling me in the other direction, trying to attack the bastard assaulting Piper and the force of both him and the Raider playing tug of war with me just about resulted in both arms being popped out of joint.

“Calm your fucking tits blondie, fore I smash your stupid face open,” The Raider hissed in my ear, prodding my chest with the butt of his pipe pistol just to drive home his point. Nick and Deacon were both being railed up against the wall behind them, their movement restricted severely, whilst Codsworth was doing his utmost to soothe Cait out of taking further action and aggravating the situation.

The sixth and final Raider made his appearance at that point, swanning leisurely around the building just behind me. I could see him smirking from the corner of my eyes, clearly enjoying the scene that was playing out before him. Jesus, I knew that these sorts of people had existed in my time but to see them carrying on so boldly and without reproach of the law, really got to me. Not just as a lawyer, mind you but as a human being who had made every concerted effort in her life to respect others and protect the liberties that we enjoyed as American citizens. All the wars and the hard effort of times past had clearly made little to no impact in this day and age, which was a tragedy far greater to me than the decimation of the surrounding landscape and everything it encompassed.

“Can’t pin sights on him, boss,” This new Raider called out, directing his findings to the brute who had Piper pinned on the ground. He must have been the leader of this merry little band, if such a disorganized rabble could be capable of any semblance of a hierarchy structure. I wondered how such a seemingly, weedy little piece of shit could have held sway over this violent bunch but then again, Hancock wasn’t what you would call a metabolic he-man and yet around ninety percent of Goodneighbor lovingly marched to the beat of his drum. Personality and guts could take a person a long way, I suppose. Though I doubt that this Raider possessed even an inch of the charisma that Hancock possessed.

The leader gave a grunt of annoyance as he lifted Piper again, holding her inert as she swore and struggled to break free of his hold. She had one arm braced against the ground, as a means to cushion herself I suppose if he tried to drop her again. “Well, shit… either he’s a slippery son of a shuffler or he ain’t travellin’ with ‘em this time around. Woulda liked to have gotten my hands on the mayor, coulda wrangled up some real goodies in a trade off.”

My heart took to pounding harder into the wall of my chest as realized that they had been referring to Hancock. Which had to mean that they had prior knowledge as to the dynamics of our little entourage. Maybe they had stalked us previously or been tipped off by any number of Raider groups that we had dropped during our ventures about the Commonwealth. Either way, it made my skin crawl to think of these assholes tracking us around the place, watching whatever we might have been up to… invading on personal moments. Eyuck.

It could potentially work in our favour though. If they thought that Hancock was still out there, it might put them on edge enough for one of them to slip up at some point. It was hard to keep yourself steady when you kept expecting someone to jump your back every five minutes or so. Hancock had been much the same early on in our travels. Guess he had a good reason to be, with people like this out there hoping to catch him at a weak moment and go on to exploit his own town. I made a point then of glancing around in a would-be casual manner, staring off down some of the alley ways and then sweeping my line of sight up along the buildings around us; as though Hancock might have been bouncing around on one of the balconies or something. At least one of the Raider’s took the bait and he started turning himself in circles; trying to keep a bead on the surrounding streets and alleys, subsequently dividing his attentions between us and this make believe vigil. Bloody excellent.

The Raider who had Nick pinned to the wall, made a lazy kind of jerk of his shoulder. “Should we just bag this shit up and light on out then?” He asked, sounding casual, though from the jittering of his right arm, I gathered he might have been coming down from whatever Chems he was taking. Nick sure as hell had noticed this; I could see his eyes focusing directly on the guys elbow, his own hands slightly raised from the wall behind him in a vice like shape. Deacon too was maintaining direct eye contact with the arms of the guy in front of him; at least, I think that he was. Little hard to tell when he was wearing sunglasses all the time.

“Got plenty of stuff on ‘em to keep us going for a while,” The leader agreed and as if to prove a point, he struck his hand deep into the duffel bag closest to him and yanked out a bottle of Scotch, which he held in the air as though it were the beating heart of a foe he had trampled to the ground.

I felt my breath catch in the lower rungs of my chest and my heart even skipped a beat. For anyone who knew me and not even well at that, it would come as no surprise that I would lose my shit over someone trying to steal liquor right in front of my very nose. I had a taste for the drink that rivalled Hancock’s infatuation with Chems and I didn’t tend to function very well if I was deprived of my little liquid solace at the end of the day. This was not, however, the reason why I was freaking out right now.

Yes, it had been _my_ bag that the Raider had dipped his hand into and the bottle of scotch which he was now lolling about with reckless disdain _did_ belong to me but it was not myself that I was getting upset for. Hey, if it had been a bottle of wine I would have probably been gnawing a good hole in the side of the bastards head right now but I digress.

The bottle of Scotch was not your standard fare that you just happened to stumble up on out in the Commonwealth on your average foray into the questionable. We had actually unearthed it when we had been assisting Nick with tying up a few loose ends from his… well, his benefactors past. Namely, the permanent putting down of Eddie Winter; a crook from way back in my own time. The guy had become the first Ghoul to ever be… created, I suppose? Self-created? In any event he had undertaken the change of his own volition, in exchange for immortality and ultimately as an attempt to avoid penance for his innocuous life of crime. Nick had informed us that he had in fact been responsible for the death of the original Nick Valentine’s fiancée, Jennifer Lands; a crime for which he had never been brought to justice.

As Nick himself possessed and for all intents and purposes _was_ the Nick Valentine of whom he spoke, not a single one of us disputed his pain over this event and had immediately agreed to support him in unearthing this asshole from whatever hole he had crawled into. It had taken the better part of the past month or so and had kept me busy whilst the Teleportation ray was being built and I was, well… hung up on any manner of other things aside.

We eventually dug our way down to Eddie’s hideout; a bunker hidden beneath the seemingly innocent façade of the Andrew Street Subway station. There, at long last, Nick was finally able to make his peace; in the form of capping a couple of bullets in Eddie’s superior fucking hide. And the rest of us had been able to scrounge around a little, take a look at what Eddie might have been keeping from the ‘good old days’ (as darling Kent liked to call them).

There hadn’t been much, as Eddie had been quite upfront in informing us about, with only one or two things definitely worth taking with us. Like that bottle of scotch, for instance.

Over two-hundred years old and a brand that I had known from my time as being bloody brilliant: Gerry McGregor scotch. The proper stuff mind you, imported from Scotland itself. There had been three bottles that Eddie had tucked away in a cabinet beside his bed; unopened and undamaged from the looks of things. What the hell he had been waiting to celebrate for the past two hundred years was anyone’s guess but I can only suppose he buried himself with a lot more alcohol than we could imagine. It was the only thing that made sense; the only reason a body could leave three perfectly good bottles of grog undrunk for two centuries.

I had once asked Nate about whether Scotch could possibly go bad after so long; as he himself had been holding onto a bottle from one of his platoon buddies, which he had never found just cause for cracking. He explained to me, in a tone that suggested that I was an adorable dumb invalid, that the alcohol content in Scotch only got stronger as time passed, which meant that it could ultimately sit untouched forever. I remember having laughed at this, saying that it would probably be a hundred years before he opened his own bottle of McGregor, by which time our great grand-children would probably poison themselves by drinking it.

How ironic now, that here I was faced with three bottles of the exact same Scotch; stuff so fermented by the passing of time that it would probably put hairs on the roof of your mouth if you drank it. Naturally, I figured it would be a perfect Christmas gift for Hancock and so I popped it into my bag, with plans to present it to him when we finally got back to Goodneighbor to see how his recovery was coming along. Deacon and Cait had taken the other two bottles; though Cait had quickly polished hers off with myself and MacCready one drunken night that I can’t recall too much of. Shit had been strong though, I know that much.

I doubted there were too many of these bottles circulating around the Commonwealth anymore, since importation from Scotland was no longer possible. Which meant that the bottle that this Raider was sashaying about might have been one of the very last to exist. Not to mention that it was Hancock’s fucking _Christmas gift_. It even had a little red ribbon that I had found, washed and tied around the neck of the bottle; just in case any further proof was needed that this was a ‘special bottle’.

I felt my hackles rise up off of my neck and I lost any sense at maintaining a civil tone for anyone’s sake anymore. If I didn’t love Dogmeat so much, I may very well have let him go at that moment but I was able to prioritize his safety over my temper. Instead, I maintained my firm grip on him as I lashed out with the arm that the Raider was holding, slamming the heel of my palm up into the line of his throat. His breath came out in one, spittle suffused exhale and I didn’t give him a chance to recover before bringing my hand up, curling it around the back of his neck and cupping firmly. I pulled him forward, so that my raised knee collided with his solar plexis, knocking the wind out of his tanks.

One of the few things that had kept me alive in this hostile new world I had found myself in, is that I had landed in it not entirely unprepared. My father, an offshoot from the Dakota people, was a fervent worry wart who took no chances with the world and believed that preparation was next to Godliness. He had taught me how to shoot a gun from a very early age and how to dress down and prepare game that we caught on the few occasions we travelled back to visit his side of the family on the Prior Lake reserve. Perhaps the greatest gift he had ever bestowed upon me and something that I hold integral to my having survived as long as I had, was his persistence in enrolling and then keeping me enrolled in martial arts classes. Wing Chun, specifically, a form of martial arts that had originated from female honed techniques in China.

I can’t say that I ever excelled at the top of the class but I had sufficient experience under my belt and my body was strong… or had been strong, rather. I’d lost a lot of muscle definition whilst I’d been pregnant with Shaun, as I hadn’t been in training. It was something I’d been meaning to get back into once the pregnancy was finished and Shaun was a little bit older but then… well, you know, end of the world and all. A year and a bit of running around in the inhospitable future had brought it all swiftly back to the forefront however.

It wasn’t enough in this instance to shake the Raider off, not when the line of my strike was inhibited by the force Dogmeat was exerting on my right arm. I tried to yank myself free but the Raider pulled back, tugging me tight against his side and smacking the line of the rifle hard against my chest. Pain went rocketing down through my breast plate, my skin stinging from the strike but I kept up my struggle, my anger overwhelming the discomfort I felt.

“PUT THAT DOWN!!” I screamed at the Raider holding the Scotch bottle, who stared at me, bemused as I twisted like a dying fish to free myself. “You put that back right now, asshole, that doesn’t belong to you!!”

Maybe it was because I was an idealist and the idea of a person taking shit that didn’t belong to them, that they hadn’t _earned,_ really tore me up inside. But I knew that it was more than that. I couldn’t have imagined being any more or less angry than if they had ripped my wedding band off of my finger, something that they had surprisingly failed to do so far. Taking that bottle felt personal; it was intended for someone who I cared deeply for and the idea that this bastard could just scurry away with it and tip the entire lot down his gullet without a thought as to how special it was… It made my whole body vibrate with the same kind of collective fury I felt towards anything that impeded my efforts to reach Shaun. Protective. Crazy.

The Raider laughed, because honestly, what other response was he going to have to some floridly made up madam reading him the riot act? For better or worse, his attentions were off of Piper for the moment, though he hadn’t loosened his hold on her bra strap. He raised his brows ironically as he waved the bottle in my direction, only provoking my temper further.

“What the hell, man? Little bitch and her mutt too much for ya?” He said, leering at the Raider who was fighting to keep a hold of me as I railed against him. “Startin’ to think these fella’s here don’t know how ta keep a woman in their place.” He took the opportunity to slam Piper down against the ground again and this time, I could see that she was hurting for it. Her arm was caught underneath her and pinned back, renting a jagged scream and more swearing from deep inside her chest.

“You do that one more time and I’ll fucking smash what teeth you got out the back of your skull, ya gob-shite.” Cait hissed, her accented voice thickened even further by unrepentant anger. She certainly didn’t look bored anymore and the Raider who was holding back Deacon was casting furtive glances in her direction, no longer appreciating her cleavage I think but genuinely concerned with her as an approaching threat. Some of them must have recognized her from her days fighting at the Combat Zone, surely and had to have known that she was nowhere near a pushover when it came to a scrap.

The fella who had come back in from circling the block, chuckled loudly as his eyes moved from Cait, to Curie, to Piper and then to me. He didn’t seem to view us as any sort of threat but was entertaining a far different use for us.

“Guys, this is starting to get fucking dull. What say we pull what we can use, put a cap in these fuckers - ” He gestured his gun one at a time towards the males in our group. “ – and march these little sluts back home. Give ‘em a proper education on how to treat a guy, eh?” He cupped his groin obscenely as he said this, thrusting into his palm just so as the meaning wasn’t lost on what sort of ‘education’ he was referring to.

“Put that thing near me and I’ll bite it off,” I hissed, thinking to myself all the while that we needed to make a concentrated effort to get ourselves out of this situation _now_. It was a small wonder that the Raider’s hadn’t simply decided to cap all of us when they’d rolled up and I wondered whether their original plan had always been to snag Hancock and bribe Goodneighbor with his safe return. Whatever the case, they clearly weren’t intending to keep us all alive and it was the men who were in the most immediate danger. Shit, how did things end up going this pear shaped so quickly? We were literally only a Super Mutant’s stone throw away from Goodneighbor; so close to safety and yet we could all just end up dying here on the ground, or else being dragged off somewhere to be molested by some filthy STD riddled Raider on an equally unsanitary hessian bag.

Their leader laughed at my statement, leaning the palm of his hand into Piper’s back so that her arm was forced even more awkwardly under her body. She was groaning with the pain of it but still toughing it out, as I had come to expect from the hard as nails reporter.

“Got some rage this one, ain’t she?” He asked, snickering as he stared me right in the eyes. “Wonder if you’ll be given’ any of that cheek when I’ve got ya face down on the floor with my cock up your ass? Bet all you got in ya then is a whole lot of squealin, bitch.”

Despite being flush with righteous anger, I couldn’t fight back the sliver of fear that now pierced my constitution; filling up my body with a poisonous weakness that enfeebled my limbs and flushed my skin with a cold sweat. I knew that the boys would fight hard to protect us; we would all fight as hard as we needed to, in order to protect one another but I was still terrified that one day we might not come out on top. That one day, one of these Raider assholes would get us where they wanted and make us victims of their disgusting, salacious desires.

I wished and not for the first time that Hancock was here. Not because he was infallible but because his fearlessness made me stronger. And I know that he would have died before letting any of us be dragged away to be raped and imprisoned by these evil bastards.

“Now is that anyway to talk to a lady?” Deacon said from his pinned position against the wall. His words may have sounded humorous but the cold tinge that had seeped into his voice left little to be misconstrued about his intentions. It wrought a smile from me as well, to see that during this entire exchange, he had somehow managed to steal the Raider’s hat, which he now had perched firmly atop his pompadour. The Raider must have been either too stoned or stupid to even see what was going on, because he didn’t so much as bat an eyelid at Deacon’s altered appearance.

“It most certainly isn’t,” Codsworth concurred, an admonishing tone evident in his otherwise proper and clipped English accent. “And I must say I am quite appalled by the Spartan conditions that have been directed at us during this hostage situation. It is one thing, sir, to demand all that we own and hold dear. But it is an entirely separate matter to direct such a flagrantly uncivil tone toward a young lady! Never the mind the outrageous behaviour you are subjugating Miss Wright to!”

"It does seem quite over the top; this... masculine posturing," Currie murmured, tapping one perfectly filed fingernail into the palm of her opposite hand. Her expression had barely altered a jot from one of patient and polite interest. "I wonder if they perhaps feel the need to assert their dominance through a show of brute force because they lack the social skills that would allow them to otherwise function in society? What I wouldn't give for a chance to study even just a _portion_ of their frontal lobe; just to ascertain whether prior cranial impaction might explain their ability to control their flagrant impulse to resort to violence?"

The guy in the middle ignored all these passing comments, his eyes still focused on me. He clearly wasn’t getting the picture; that we were all at the end of our tether and he demonstrated this by using his teeth to pop the cork out of the scotch bottle, his eyes not so much as leaving my own for a heartbeat. I leaned further forward in the other Raider’s hold, steaming like freshly digested Tato’s with teeth clenched and on show.

“You sip from that and I’ll hold your balls to hot coals,” I hissed, wishing I had a fire somewhere nearby so as to give some merit to the threat. It was a pretty stupid one to make, given that the weather was way too hot for a fire anyhow but it was the first thing the anger had formed my words into. I’ve got a creative little flair when I’m pissed off and scared out of my wits.

He laughed again, holding the bottle up as though toasting me and saying, “Bottoms up, honey”. The blood roared in my ears as I saw him lay his lips to the open neck of the bottle and then I was surging forward, bringing my captors arm along with me, yelling whatever inconsequential threats I could think of –

-and then suddenly very aware that the right side of my body was sopping wet and I was rapidly falling forward onto my face.

I kept my mind focused on what I needed to; holding onto Dogmeat and softening my fall. I fastened my grip around his collar even more tightly, braced my left arm around my body and hit the tarmac shoulder first. It knocked the wind out of me a little but I had braced myself enough to accommodate for the impact. I called to Dogmeat, urging him to be still as I ran through what had just happened in my mind.

My arm was slathered with blood, as was the entire right side of my body, including a good portion of my face. My first initial thought was ‘ _Hancock’_ , because blood and violence seemed to go hand in hand with him and he certainly wasn’t above using a knife when he was doling out a bit of whoopass.

But it wasn’t Hancock who I saw when I glanced over my shoulder, but another Ghoul, dressed in the distinctive pale yellow suit jacket and black pants of the Neighborhood watch. Judging from the fire axe that he had just deftly cleaved through the arm of the Raider holding me, I knew immediately that it was Meyer. Guy was the only one of the bunch who routinely used a melee weapon.

He must have snuck up on us from the alleyway directly behind me and been waiting for just the right moment to swing the axe down. I had presented that opportunity when I had pulled the Raider’s arm tight, the stretching of the limb providing all the counter balance necessary to cleave through the bone and muscle in one fell stroke. The severed arm now lay at my side, its owner screaming like a theatrical wally as blood pumped from the severed arteries below his shoulder. He didn’t have long to scream before Meyer redirected the angle of his own arms and swooped the blade in sidelong, advising me to keep my head down as I did. Damn, I could actually feel the breeze lift the hair off of my skull, moments before the blade sank firmly into the Raider’s neck, crushing him up against the wall of the building behind him. As Meyer pulled the blade free, the Raider’s head came with it, bouncing off to the side before the body crumpled at the knees.

I don’t think the other Raider’s knew entirely what to do; their mouths gaping a little as Meyer used his boot to push the body down onto his front, which he then balanced his weight on; like a hunter who had brought down a big game prize. He gave them all a wide smile, touching the fingers of his free hand to the brim of his hat.

“Greetings, _aloha_ and salutations from Goodneighbor, gents.” He said, his gravelly voice giving him all the charm of a five pack a day chain smoker. “So sorry to spoil your fun but I think you might just be picking on the wrong people here.”

One of the Raider’s had finally found his voice and with a fearful scream of “Fucking _Fireman_!” they had all swooped their guns around to aim at him. The big mistake we had all been banking on from the second they had waltzed up and the sign at which we all sprang into action.

I scrambled onto my feet, scraping up the pipe pistol that the now very dead Raider had dropped when Meyer had lopped his arm off. As I did, I released my hold on Dogmeat, issuing a command of ‘Go, _NOW_!’ which he understood meant to move quickly forwards, towards the enemy. Holding onto him now was only going to put him in more danger from all the bullets that could start flying at any second; at least now he had a chance to manoeuvre out of harm’s way.

MacCready immediately went into action, slamming his elbow into the middle of the Raider behind him before chopping down onto the wrist holding the knife. It clattered onto the ground and they both wrestled for control of it, MacCready cursing in his ‘Parental-Guidance’ sort of manner as they pair of them exchanged strikes and punches. I wasn’t concerned with interjecting on this; MacCready was a strong fighter and I had no doubts he could win out over this little exchange. My main point of concern was Piper, who was directly pinned and vulnerable to a strike from the bastard who was all but sitting on her.

Nick and Deacon had already managed to incapacitate the two Raider’s in front of them; the idiots had turned their backs to aim at Meyer, which had given the guys the opening they needed. Nick was strong enough to bring his enemy back hard against the wall behind him, slamming his spine a number of times until the air was all but knocked out of his body. Nick wrestled the gun away and swung it about so quickly it was damn near a blur and fired two shots into the Raider that had been patrolling the area. Guy didn’t even have a chance to squeeze the trigger. Nick wasted no time in surveying his handiwork and pirouetted about to aim the gun back behind himself; unloading three shots into the belly of the Raider he had just slammed against the wall. He went down with a matronly flail from each of his elbows, which sent both arms flapping about like an ill-tempered penguin, railing against the injustices of the world.

Deacon wasn’t quite as strong as Nick and was struggling to get the gun off of his own Raider, when Cait went in for the assist. Her strong arms caught the flailing little psycho from behind in a sleeper hold and she all but crushed his head and throat as she pulled him back towards her. The Raider, now struggling to free himself, wasn’t the least bit concerned with hanging onto his gun and Deacon was able to yank it away without any further grievances. Currie had stepped back neatly from the fray, clearing the path for Nick as he surged forward and then crouching low so that she was more likely to avoid strikes from wayward bullets. I could only suppose that her programming suggested she would be most useful in stepping away from the fray rather than trying to involve herself in it and I had to trust that this was the right decision. Her diagnostics were pretty on the mark when it came to making smart choices in combat.

I had been moving in on Piper and the Raider’s leader all this while and was thinking I might not make it in time when Codsworth’s spinning saw lurched forward and struck the snivelling rat faced bastard square in the upper chest. I had seen that saw dismember body parts when applied at full force but I guess the Raider must have been leaning away or something because the blade cut only part way before then glancing up over the collar bone and into the air. No matter however, as it was just the distraction needed for the rest of us to stack on.

Nick got there first and lashed out with his boot, kicking the Raider over onto his back and away from Piper. I think he was concerned about discharging his weapon so close to her, in case there was any ricochet’s that might inadvertently hurt her. The Raider still had a hold of Piper’s bra strap as he went sailing backwards however and the material came apart at the clasp with an audible snap, sending Piper’s body thumping down onto the tarmac once again.

Dogmeat was next in line, his jaws snapping down over the side of the Raider’s face, ripping at his ears and nose, trying to reach his throat, I think. Deacon threw himself down, pinning the Raider’s arm which still held the gun and smacking his fingers a few times with the pistol that he himself had acquired in order to loosen his grip on it. I didn’t bother with too much in the way of stuffing around; I whistled to Dogmeat in order to move him off to the side and took careful aim, firing two shots into the Raider’s bloodied, ravaged face. At the same moment, I heard a horrible wet cracking noise from behind me; Meyer perhaps helping MacCready finish off his little scuffle.

“Any more of them?” Nick asked, his voice still as cool and as calm as I had ever heard it. I took a deep breath, trying to bring my adrenal levels down through pure force of will as I did a quick sweep of the area. The only Raider remaining was the one that Cait was still slowly bringing to the ground, his face turning an enchanting colour of the variety that most likely suggested that all his brain cells were in the midst of expiring.

“Let him go, Cait.” Nick advised, making his way over towards her. She gave a grumpy huff in response and released her hold on the Raider, uttering ‘Fine’,  as Nick offloaded a shot directly between the dying mans eyes.

“I _did_ have him you know, Valentine.” Cait grumbled, actually looking annoyed that she hadn’t been allowed to finish her act of strangulation. I, on the other hand, still unused to death and especially not accustomed to having to dole it out myself, could be found bent in two, hands pressed to my knees and doing a whole lot of heavy mouth breathing. My stomach had that familiar little twist of nausea in it; proof that I still wasn’t quite the honed and perfected killing machine you would think I should be after a year.

Killing people never came easy and I hope the day never arrives that I _can_ just shake it off without a care. In my time, you had never really needed to kill people to get by, so far as my knowledge went. Nate had done so, of course. Sadly, but of course. He had been in military situations and in those scenario’s you gotta damn well do what you gotta do. But I was a _lawyer_ , for fucks sake. At least…that had been the plan. I had envisioned days of leisurely strolling before the parapet; racketing on about the why’s and why not’s that had inevitably led to ‘Jo-Average’ being put on trial for whatever heinous crime had supposedly landed him there. I had dreamed about having the power to convince others to put these assholes away, to make them pay for the evil shit they had done. Conviction through words and turn of phrase; not through the squeezing of a trigger and dispensing of a bullet.

But that had been the past… the far distant past, as weird as it was to think of it as such. For me, it had only been a year and a few months ago; for everyone else, over two hundred. Ancient fucking history. I was a relic of a bygone time, a more idealistic time, when there was something of law and order and people to pull all those wayward matters into line with the flashing of lights and the pounding of a gavel. Flawed though it might have been, it was at least some semblance of structure that made sense to me. Here in this reality, there weren’t any boys in blue rushing in to slap the silver bracelets on the Raider’s wrists and take them in for a legal spank to the posterior. Here there was only you and them. The Minutemen were the closest thing we had to an acting police force and it wasn’t like you could pull out your phone and call them; there in a figurative minute or not. It was down to you and your own wits. Or blind stupid luck, most usually.

After a few moments, I was feeling as well as could be expected and I straightened up; offering Meyer what I hoped was a look that in some small part conveyed a smidgen of my gratitude. Just as I had thought, the man had sure as shit caved in the head of the Raider who had been wrestling with MacCready and was currently trying to extricate the blade of his axe from the crooks thick skull. I tried not to watch as the Raider’s face was splashed liberally up and down into the pool of blood and muck congealing beneath him. The thought drifted into my head that it kind of bared some grisly resemblance to a piece of bread being dipped into tomato soup at a restaurant. I choked down a big meaty heave that threatened to surface into being across my tongue. Dear God, why did I have to make mental contrasts like _that?_

“Not sure what brings you out this way Fireman, but goddamn if you aren’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever set eyes on right now.” I said, laughing a little as he put his fingertips to his chest in a put upon expression of fey embarrassment. “You’re true blue, honey. Thanks a ton.”

“Just glad I rambled up when I did, Munch,” Meyer said, finally freeing his axe with one final persuasive jerk of his arms. The Raider’s head rose up, momentarily drawing his body into a morbid ‘L’ shape, before gravity won its tug of war and brought his chest crashing back down into his own little pool of gelatinous muck. Meyer didn’t look the least bit concerned as to the mess he made and casually perched himself on a dividing wall nearby in order to examine the bloodied blade of his fire axe with a careful eye.

I had always liked Meyer; being one of the oldest of the Neighborhood watch guys and married to boot, he gave off an air of maturity and quiet contentment that a lot of the others either didn’t have or just weren’t interested in having. Hancock had told me that he was one of the original Nine who had been involved in overthrowing Vic as well, which is how he had earned his nickname and reputation as ‘The Fireman’. Say what you will about a Ghoul’s physical degeneration but I saw no evidence in this when Meyer was swinging that bad boy around. He seemed to have some skill with it as well, which always made me want to ask about whether he had some past experience with… I don’t know, working in a lumber mill or some shit. Maybe he was an axe-murderer at some point in his long life, who knows?

I turned my attention back to Piper, whose condition I was genuinely concerned about. She didn’t wait for any of us to dash to her side and help her however, independent girl that she is and quickly scrambled to her feet. In the ensuring fight however, I think she had forgotten that her bra had unclasped at the back and as she stood, the entire thing fell down the line of her arms, exposing her breasts before she was able to catch it.

Cait, the sympathetic soul that she is, immediately burst out laughing and started clapping her hands joyously, whilst MacCready and Deacon, both on their feet and capable of helping, failed at looking anything other than far too interested. Meyer, being one of the few gentleman of Goodneighbor, actually turned his face away, though not without some parting comment of course.

“Whoa, thanks all the same honey but a simple thankyou wold suffice.” He said, failing to hide the slightest smirk of amusement as he added offhandedly; “BC’s gonna be mighty pissed he decided not to come along on a stroll now, I tell ya that much.”

“Shut up, shut up, _SHUT UP!!_ ” Piper screamed, her face flushing so red I thought she might actually succeed in broiling her cheeks. It didn’t help that Nick was trying to assist, very inexpertly in helping her re-hook her bra, which was only hindering progress really. “Goddammit Nick, I can do it myself!!”

“Well, I am sorry,” Nick said, his usual tone showing no outward sign of being either embarrassed or offset by Piper’s outburst. “It’s not like I’m an expert in this sort of thing. All I have to go off of are Nick Valentine’s own memories of the subject and this is a little harder to translate into action with hands like mine.”

MacCready, who had finally had the decency to turn his back, raised a hand up over his shoulder. “Hey, not to brag but I _do_ have some experience in these matters, if you need someone to step in.”

“As do I,” Deacon echoed supportively, his hand also jostling for attention in the air. “Well, maybe taking them off more than putting them on, but it makes sense that if you reverse the process…”

I ignored the both of them and quickly swooped in behind Piper, extracting the clasps of her bra from Nick’s willing but ill-equipped robotic hands and slipping them back into place snuggly against the curve of her back. I took it upon myself to grab her shirt off of the ground from nearby, fortunately unsoiled by all the excitement going on and I handed this to her quickly, knowing that any further assing around was only going to upset her all the more.

“Thanks, Blue,” She said gratefully, taking a moment to flash everyone else in the circle (exempting Dogmeat and Codsworth) a very unappreciative look. I quickly assessed her state whilst she was doing this; her chest and stomach were grazed, as was her arm and chin but they would be easily cleaned up with a Stimpak before they bruised. I got one out of my bag and injected her in the left arm, knowing that the sooner the medicine got to work, the sooner she would feel better. I can’t imagine that she felt much like sticking around; not after everyone had seen her in such a vulnerable state of undress. She’d no doubt want to take herself away for a moment to tidy up and calm down a little.

It was then that I remembered _my_ reason for my being not so calm in the first place and I searched around on the ground for the bottle of Scotch the raider had been slurping on before Meyer turned up. It had landed on its side and most of its contents had already burbled out, leaving less than half behind. I groaned as I lifted the bottle, being careful not to lose the last few remaining dregs.

“Ohhh… damn, damn, dosh, darn…” I groaned, glancing about to see if I could find the cork. I’m not certain where the Raider had dropped it exactly but it wasn’t obvious to the naked eye. I grabbed a piece of the Raider’s shirt and ripped it, wadding the material into as thick a ball I could manage before stuffing it deep into the neck of the scotch bottle. It wouldn’t stop the booze from leaking out if the bottle fell supine but I didn’t intend to pack it away just yet. I instead leant it against the side of my bag and with a feeling of deep disgruntlement, gave the dead Raider a little stomp on the backside. “Fucking selfish asshole. I told you to leave it the hell alone! Mean, dirty, prick-ish, knuckle dragging knob jockey…” I swung my boot back and gave him a hard kick in the bottom, lifting his hip slightly off of the ground in the process. Dogmeat barked at me, in a way that I took to sound supportive of my convictions. I smiled and knelt down to rub him under the jaw. His jowls were tinged pink where his fur might otherwise have been white and I made a mental note to give him a good bath when we got to Goodneighbor. “Oh, I know, darling. You’re mummy’s brave little protector, aren’t you? Such a heroic boy.” I dispensed a kiss right between his eyes and tousled his chest, much to Deacon’s apparent disgust.

“Come on, boss. Where’s mine, huh? I’m a brave little protector too.” He stated, not the least bit convincing as he pulled the sloping neck of his red shirt down and swayed his chest from side to side, trying it seemed to entice me forward. I gave him a small smile as I continued razzing Dogmeat up, pulling my arms tighter around his side and reaching down to rub his stomach as he raised his right forepaw.

“You are, Deacon. Of course you are. There you go.” I stood up and rubbed the palm of my hand quickly and briefly over the small patch of skin displayed above Deacon’s shirt. He pinched his face into a smug, theatrically overwhelmed grin of contentment. “How’s that?”

“Aww… thankyou, boss.” He cooed, reaching out to pinch the tip of my nose and waggle it gently from side to side. It was always the same with Deacon; no awkwardness, no tension or pretence. If I had ever had a twin brother, I could only imagine he would have been something like him. The guy just encouraged mischievousness and he was often so clever in drawing you into his cheeky games that you were carried away by his energy before you realized it. Not that he was your typical clown or anything of the sort; Deacon was witty, voraciously intelligent and just self-demeaning enough to never get carried away with his own energy. Though he did have a very bad habit of making up stories and embellishing the truth wherever he saw fit. Hard to know if whatever he was telling you had any basis in reality sometimes.

“Jesus Christ… I need a… I need a cigarette…” I heard Piper say from behind me and I turned to see her holding her shirt over her chest as she moved in on her bag centre circle. She ruffled around inside with an arm that was trembling a great deal before she was finally able to extract the packet and yank it free. She moved away, around to the other side of the building, pulling her shirt over her head as she went. Cait followed along behind, chuckling all the while at Piper’s obvious embarrassment. Nick watched them go, before then turning his attention back to the Raider whose pockets he was currently in the process of emptying. I saw him unearth my Bic lighter and whistled for him to send it my way. I fumbled the catch but the guys were nice enough to pretend that they hadn’t taken notice of the fact that I was a big, dumb klutz.

“Thinkin’ you might wanna go on and clean yourself up as well, Munch.” Meyer called, wiping the axe blade off with a cloth that he had extracted from some pocket in his suit. “You go strollin’ inta town lookin’ like that, Boss is liable to use my ass for target practice, you know?”

I glanced down at my body, taking stock of my appearance for the first time since Meyer had opened up his can of whoopass on the Raider holding me. My once clean white t-shirt was splattered red down my entire right side; the blood shining bright against the contrasting shade of material. It felt hot and sticky from where it was clinging to my body. There was blood dripping out my hair and sloughing down the side of my face to boot.

“None of that got in your mouth, did it?” Nick asked, looking concerned as I wiped my cheek off with my hand as best I could. From the corner of my eye, I could see Currie leaning down at the side of the Raider that Meyer had killed and I hoped to God she wasn't making good on her earlier statement by scooping his brain into a petri dish or something.

“No, I don’t think so,” I said, grimacing at the stain now adorning my hands. Codsworth whisked his metallic pincer up into a compartment on the side of his body and retrieved a bottle of Purified Water, which he held out towards me.

“Here you go, Mum. You had best go get yourself sorted out. Can’t have you strolling into town looking all out of sorts like that.”

Deacon scoffed from over by his own bag, in the midst of returning everything that the Raider’s had unearthed back to the right proper locations. “Oh yeah, because I imagine strolling into town bloody, molested and dirty would be _so_ far from the norm in Goodneighbor.”

I gave him a little look, which I could already see was a toned-down version of the offended expression on Meyer’s face. “Play nice now Deacon, or you might not be allowed to even walk through the front gate with that sort of attitude.” I leaned over to give Codsworth a grateful pat to the side of his chassis. “Thanks for the water, honey. I’ll go and tidy myself up. Back in a flash.”

I reached into the centre circle to grab my bag up, knowing I’d have to change my clothes as well as wash the blood off of myself. I scooped up the bottle of scotch and set it back off to the side, trying to preserve the tiny little pinch that remained; as stupid as that may have seemed. MacCready had already made himself scarce off in the other direction, clearly intending to finish what he had started before the Raider’s had gotten the jump on him. I could only hope that there were no more hanging around. Guy might start to develop a complex about pulling his pants down at this rate.

I followed in Piper and Cait’s footsteps to around the other side of the building that bordered our encampment. Piper had tucked her shirt in and pulled on her Press hat, though her irritated expression hadn’t shifted one jot in the minute that I had seen her. I suppose this might have had something to do with the fact that Cait was still in the midst of teasing her and Piper, though quick witted herself, didn’t much like being caught on the back foot and often found it very difficult to recover once she was unsettled.

“ –acting like it’s the first time anyone’s gone and seen your tits, love.” Cait mused in a provocative tone, popping the filter of her cigarette between her smiling lips as she watched Piper trying to maintain her cool. The Reporter was not making a very concerted effort of it either; her pale face as flushed as red as I had ever seen it.

“Oh, go take a long jump, Cait.” She snapped, using her teeth to tug a cigarette from the pack in her hand with such fussiness, it wouldn’t have surprised me had she bit the filter clean in two. “I’m pissed off because those goddamned fucking Raider’s can’t keep their filthy fucking hands to themselves!” She groaned with disgust, grabbing the front of her shirt and rubbing it frantically at the space between her breasts. “Jesus, I can _still_ feel the creeps paws on me…”

Cait laughed loudly, turning to hoist herself up onto a half crumbled wall behind her, where she sat, swinging her legs like a cheeky gargoyle. Ask Cait when a good time was to go and poke fun at Piper and the answer would be, ‘ _anytime’_. Girl had a real predilection for pushing people’s buttons and watching them squirm. Didn’t exactly help that she herself had such a terrible upbringing that the things which might send other people squirming or indeed screaming into the distance, were a muted experience for Cait; hardly worthy of nerves and theatrics.

“Ooh, I see? Maybe wishing they were someone else’s paws, aye?” Cait smirked, draping herself sidelong atop the wall like a lounge singer serenading a room from astride a grand piano. “The rugged paws of a big… muscly, strapping Ghoul, perhaps?”

“You’re talking about Adrian, right?” I interjected, dumping my bag off of the ground before then twisting the cap from the bottle of purified water.

“Too right,” Cait replied, giving me a little wink as Piper’s flush started to creep down under her chin and spread into the column of her neck. She tried to say something but I got there first.

“Well, I’ll go and tell you something for free; I would be giving no shits if that sexy big beefcake tried to rip off _my_ bra,” I said, placing the bottle of water carefully onto the ground before reaching up to pull my shirt over my head. The muggy air hit my skin as soon as I lifted the material away; the blood slickened cloth peeling back and leaving the flesh beneath patterned with streaks of dripping red. “Guy is absolutely _gorgeous_. Might have gotten there first if the offer had ever been on the table.”

Cait’s eyes widened and she made a little ‘whoa’ sort of gesture with her hands; looking positively delighted by my admission. Never the mind that for the most part I was only playing at teasing Piper; who was looking all the more embarrassed and yet contrarily haughty in the same gesture.

“Is that right there, girlie? Boy, I can’t wait to get into town and run that little titbit by Hancock. Sure he’s gonna be super impressed with you wanting to ball one of his best mates.”

I hefted a little sigh and flashed Cait a look that no doubt now matched Piper’s for being unimpressed. “Not gonna start in with all that again, are you?” I asked, looking down to check what condition my bra was in. The right cup was almost completely stained with blood and when I pulled the material back from my skin, I saw that some of this had seeped through onto my breast. No choice but to take off so I could clean myself.

“Be a lot easier if the two of you weren’t as dumb as a fuckin’ bucket of hair,” Cait drawled, sucking in a lungful of smoke as I reached back to unhook my bra. “Anyone else would be shagging each other by now but not you guys. Ain’t sure what the point is in holdin’ off… not like your vagina is the fucking treasure of Jamaica Plains.”

“Come on, give her a break.” Piper said, which I found surprisingly thoughtful given how I had been teasing her earlier. “If I was Blue, I wouldn’t want Hancock bloody huffing and puffing on top of me either.” She gave a deep, all over body shudder just so we had no doubts as to what she exactly thought of this concept. “Eyuck… makes me feel sick just thinking about it.”

“Oh aye… we all know who _you’d_ rather have huffing and puffing on top of ya,” Cait said, immediately sending Piper back to flushing the same red as her leather coat.

“For fucks sake…” She grumbled, her face creasing in tightly so that it matched perfectly the first memory I had of her in the gates of Diamond City; sticking it to Mayor McDonough. “Just give it a break already Cait, would you? There isn’t a damn thing going on between me and that big dummy and you know it.”

I smiled to myself as I pulled my bra down off of my shoulders and dropped it along the line of my arms, catching the garment in my waiting palms. I missed these sorts of conversations; they were a relic of a bygone age, a time when I had been young enough to tease and prod fun at my girlfriends for having supposed ‘crushes’ or feelings for some guy and laughing as they got all flustered trying to deny it. I mean, it may have been two hundred years into the future and Piper, Currie, Cait and myself were certainly very different people, but we had all managed to bond in spite of this. Though I considered Hancock to have been the closest friend I had in this time, I adored the company of my female friends indisputably, especially given these moments when you just needed to be a woman and have these sorts of cheeky exchanges.

Cait, as expected, ignored Piper’s declarations and stared up at the sky as though speculating the most mysterious conundrums of the universe. “Wonder if his cocks as big as the rest of him?”

“I can honestly say that I’ve never had the pleasure.” I said, dropping my bra to the ground and then balling up my bloodied t-shirt, tucking the stained portion into my hands. I poured some of the purified water onto the clean fabric and used this then to wipe off my shoulder, side and breast. The white of the material quickly turned pink as it sopped up the blood that had congealed in these places. Cait whistled from between her teeth as she lay herself down on the dividing wall, bringing the cigarette back to her lips.

“If his hands are any indication, it’s probably like a fallen fucking tree.” She mused, taking another deep drag from her smoke. “Christ, it’s enough to turn me onto Ghoul’s; just imagining riding a pole like that. Squeezing myself up against all that muscle, _Lord in Heaven_ …”

“Oh my god, _seriously,_ you two!” Piper snapped, her face so red now that I couldn’t imagine her brain had dedicated so much as a drop of blood to any other portion of her body. “Go and get fucking laid already if you’re that fucking horny! Jesus and I thought that the boys were bad enough with the crap that they go on with!”

I chuckled gently as I bent over and raked my hair forward so that it hung about my face, tipping the water bottle onto the back of my head. The cool water felt amazing, given how muggy the surrounding air was. And not that I was much for flouting my body or anything of the sort, but it felt kind of good to have my top off just long enough to get rid of the sweat that had pooled under my arms and between my breasts. I’d been planning to have a shower as soon as I had gotten to Goodneighbor but this was an acceptable substitute in the meanwhile.

“Hey, I’m the one who gets myself a root regularly,” Cait reminded us, not bothering it would seem to hide the smug nuance in her voice. “It’s you two babes I’m worried about. That sort of repression really can’t be healthy. Probably have moths flying out of your fucking snatches soon if you ain’t careful.”

“Yeah well, unlike _you_ I don’t have sex with anyone just willy-nilly,” Piper stated crossly. “I like to get to know someone properly, get them to earn my respect before they have the right to get into my underpants. And as for that near miss with Deacon,” She stated loudly, cutting across Cait who had started to jump in. “We _all_ know how horrible a time that was and how messed up we were. I’m no different to you guys… I just wanted to stop _thinking_ about that… shit for even just a minute. I’m only human, you know?”

I knew of course what she was referring to. Three months ago… all those poor people, Adults and children, alike... The monstrous things that had been done to them… I scrubbed harder at the blood in my hair, as though getting rid of this would somehow scrub away the memory of the depraved things we had seen. But nothing could sear so deep that it could free us from the horrendous nightmare we had stumbled into.

Not a single one of us had been able to cope. It was the most grim that I had ever seen Nick and the first time I had ever seen Deacon, MacCready and Hancock truly emotional. Even Cait had cried and she herself had personally witnessed and experienced some of the worst depravity that mankind had to offer. Those of us that could drink, drank ourselves into near catatonic stupors that first night free, washing down the liquor with just enough chems to force us into a deep, dreamless sleep. And even _that_ hadn’t been enough. We had needed to hold one another and comfort one another; a physical reprieve that would allow us to feel good and safe and protected. And even then, the need to go further had taken seed and every reason that had existed as to why we ought not to go down this track, failed to hold any sway with us.

Turns out that most of us had been far too inebriated to initiate much of anything. Piper had spewed her guts out astronomically and I had spent the rest of the night nursing her; much to the disappointment of Deacon and Hancock respectively, who I think were quite looking forward to getting lucky. Only Cait and MacCready had managed to get their end away and I was honest to goodness relieved that nothing else had happened between the rest of us. It might have made us feel better circumstantially but Deacon and Piper only considered each other to be friends. And as for Hancock and I… well, whatever existed between us didn’t need to be soured through an act of fleeting desperation.

Both Cait and Piper were silent for a moment and I knew that they too were thinking back to that dreadful time; perhaps working hard to push those memories away before they caused further upset. I scrubbed some of my hair between my palms, squeezing the short strands until the water looked to be running clear before sweeping my head back up. I retrieved the t-shirt that I had dropped and wetted it again, using the cleanest patch I could find to wipe the blood from the side of my face.

“It’s okay, Piper,” I said, giving her what I hoped was a comforting smile as I wiped along underneath my chin. The t-shirt was now sporting long streaks of brown concealer as well as blood. Looked as though someone with a blood case of dysentery and piles had tried to wipe their backside with it. “No one judges anyone for how they behaved that night. We were all screwed up. Who knows; if I hadn’t seen you spewing, I might have ended up boffing Hancock.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing,” Cait admonished, giving me a little questioning sort of frown. “Figured you guys would be on by now anyway but hey… you already know my thoughts on that.”

“Frequently and vocally,” I responded, giving her a patient little wink that she just sighed and rolled her eyes at. “Besides, once we get into Goodneighbor, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of opportunities for those of us who want to have sex to hop on their good foot and do the bad thing.”

“Oh aye. Just take your pick of any of those Neighborhood Watch boys. Ain’t rocket science,” Cait said suggestively and I wondered if she did perhaps have someone in mind. Honestly, if I had been through half the shit that this poor girl had, I don’t know if I could have even stomached having a man anywhere near me. Let alone going to bed with one.

Don’t get me wrong. I mean, I’m no prude. Maybe by some people’s standards, seeing as how I had only been with four men in my entire life; one of whom I had married but I didn’t consider myself to be the quiet retiring type when it came to the old 'special cuddle' thing. I truly believe, in fact, that regular sex is important for your overall physical, mental and emotional health. Which is perhaps why I found myself far more easily succumbing to depression these days. Not that having a deceased husband and a kidnapped child helped this much but you get my drift.

Piper seemed to be thinking the same thing and she gave Cait a little look that plainly told her to tread lightly. “Hey, keep in mind that Blue’s still dealing with the loss of a husband, Cait. It might be a little tactless to start suggesting that she go and bang Goodneighbors creepy inhabitants and/or mayor.”

“Oh, poor Hancock,” I said, scolding her a little, as I tipped the remaining purified water down the side of my body in order to wipe away the last few remaining brown dribbles that clung to my skin. “I thought after all this time that you might start to have a better opinion of him, Piper. Given some of the things you’ve seen him do in our travels.”

“True, but why ruin a dynamic that’s served us well for so long?” Piper replied, flashing a cheeky little smile that I couldn’t help but like. “Gotta get as many in as I can before we get to Goodneighbor.”

“The sooner the better,” I grumbled, wringing out the shirt and then dropping it to the ground with my bloodied bra. “Got so much washing that I need to get done it’s not funny. And now this on top of it? Can’t remember a time in my previous life when I ever needed to get so much blood out of anything.”

“Ah… hooray for women’s lib,” Piper mock cheered, pumping the hand that was holding the cigarette in the air sarcastically. “You would think by now that women might at least be free from all of these stupid domestic responsibilities.”

I shrugged as I knelt down and unzipped my duffel bag, ruffling around a little before I was able to locate a relatively clean singlet top. It was white and I didn’t have another bra that I was able to put underneath it; my good one was now soiled with blood and the other had broken during a previous expedition. I knew if I just put the top on, that my boobs would most likely be visible through it and whilst I’m sure that would have thrilled the Goodneighbor boys to bits (and probably gotten me free drinks for the rest of my stay there) it was hardly appropriate. I hunted around a bit more and managed to locate a red plaid shirt. It was too hot to button the entire thing up and so I slipped the singlet on first and then pulled the shirt over my shoulders, trying the tails up under my breasts tightly, in order to create a kind of shelf for them to rest on. It would just have to do for the time being, at least until I could get some of my washing done. No way was I going to put a blood splattered bra back on, even if I scrubbed it with water for a good hour.

No one would care, I reasoned. We were all adults and so long as my nipples weren’t visible and I didn’t succumb to an irrepressible urge to launch into jumping jacks, no one was likely to be able to tell.

“The reality is, that I have a whole bag full of dirty washing and until the men we know demonstrate any irrepressible desire to take it off of my hands, I’m afraid I’m stuck doing it myself,” I stated, reaching down to fold my bloodied bra up into the soiled shirt. I balled them into my garment bag, which was shoved down at the very base of the duffle. “I mean, Codsworth wouldn’t mind but we still don’t have a washing machine and I ran out of powder a while back. Soap just doesn’t do the trick, plus it makes your skin all itchy if it doesn’t dry properly.”

Cait laughed loudly, puffing on the last drag of her smoke before she flicked the dying ember away. “Fucking hell… thank God we’ve got _you_ along Evie, because I sure as shit never had to worry about any of this sort of stuff before. Plus, it ain’t half bad watching you wash those bad boys off… Addy won’t be the only Ghoul who missed out today.”

I just let this roll off of me; never particularly concerned when Cait directed her attentions towards me or any part of my anatomy. She was still learning about where boundaries existed and what was and was not appropriate. Plus, she liked to tease and so I never really took it seriously.

“Ha, if you like ‘em, you’re welcome to ‘em,” I said, pulling out my own pack of smokes and sighing to see that I only had about two left. Would need to pick up a fresh carton when we got into Goodneighbor. “Fucking things are way too heavy to be hauling around the Wastes.”

“Plus, they always get sweat pooling up underneath them,” Piper said sympathetically. Her breasts were about the same size as my own; so we often commiserated over the pain that they caused. I was a double D cup and she would have been close to a D herself, I suppose. But it's not as though I entirely trusted bra sizes to be an accurate indicator, (cup versus band versus female body shape, hello?) or indeed a redeemable feature of a woman's worth in any way shape or form. All I know for certain is that my boobs always felt far too heavy for me and were annoyingly big and cumbersome. Piper and I were both larger in the chest department than Cait, though she had been tiny from extensive chem use when we had first met and had barely an inch of fat anywhere on her. Now that she had gone through the invasive sobering therapy in Vault 95, she was starting to eat normally and put on a little bit of weight. And in all the right places, it seemed.

“Guess I’m doing all right with what I got,” Cait said, leaning back and staring down at her chest. Most of which was still hanging out of her corset top, mind you. “’Sides, wouldn’t want any extra weight to slow me down getting to the bar faster at last call. Speaking of which,” She trailed off, hopping down from the wall and strutting past us, heading back to the temporary encampment area. “I am fucking _parched._ Soon as we get to Goodneighbor, I’m gonna jam me hand right up that Drinkin’ Buddy’s arse and pull me out a few cold ones. So, let’s maybe get a move on girlies, huh?”

“Be right there,” I said, flicking the tab on my lighter and dipping the tip of the cigarette into the flame. “Just gonna suck this one into me and then I’ll be right along. Adrenaline’s still kicking a bit, you know?”

Cait looked a little perplexed at the idea that what had just occurred could be in any way stimulating but gave a wave of her hand in acknowledgement as she turned the corner; hips swinging from side to side like one big promise as she went. Honestly, for the girl to be envious of a set of fatty tits when she had a body like _that_. Grass is always greener, I guess.

Piper took another drag on her cigarette; being a much slower smoker than Cait, she still had about half to chew through and didn’t seem to be in any particular rush. She shot me one of her furrowed, deeply persuasive looking expressions, which told me in no uncertain terms that she had something rattling about in her noggin.

“You mind if I ask you a question, Blue?” She queried and I was relieved to hear that she sounded a hell of a lot more relaxed than she had a few minutes ago. Much like me, Piper had limited tolerance to high stress situations and as such, it took her a little while longer to come down from the adrenal high. We had spent many a time smoking away the stress and debunking one another’s fears following a fight or a dangerous situation.

I smiled as I took a deep puff on my cigarette. These things were a hell of a lot stronger than the ones from my time had been and I was still getting used to them. “So long as it doesn’t go and end up in one of your articles, sure. You know; like the knee slapper where I was near porked by a Feral?”

I had meant for it to come off as a light hearted jab but Piper looked surprisingly serious and she shook her head very persuasively.

“No, nothing like that.” She insisted and I turned towards her, curious as to what exactly could make the quirky reporter take such a sombre tone. “I was just wondering whether you and Hancock _are_ actually together.”

Well, there was certainly no beating around the bush _there._ I always loved that Piper was so direct and to the point; saved a heck of a lot of mucking about and all that nonsense. And whilst I had been expecting this question to be levelled at me at some point, the fact that it had finally been asked caused something to stir inside of me. I felt like a broth that had been left unattended for so long, only now to have someone sweep a spoon through the core of me and disturb all those elements that had lain lay dormant at the base of my mind.

I kept that same smile fastened firmly on my face as I turned my head from side to side. “No. No, we’re not together. What made you think we might be?”

I felt like such an honest to goodness ignorant phoney asking this question. Because quite honestly; _why_ wouldn’t she suspect that we might have been? I knew the answer very well myself before it was directed back at me and Piper was surprisingly kind enough to play into my intentional stupidity.

“Oh, come on, Blue. The two of you were out on the road for a while by yourselves. Even when the rest of us had to go off to attend to other responsibilities, I don’t think the two of you parted ways much. You even went back with him to Goodneighbor when he had some mayoral duties to deal with.” She took another puff from her cigarette and the little glint in her eye said quite plainly that she was simply humouring my ignorance. “Not to mention that you were always flirting and touching. Rest of us figured that you were just sneakily slipping it to one another here and there but way you talk makes it sound like it hasn’t actually been happening at all. I’m just… tired of guessing.” She finished with a small, bashful chuckle.

I acknowledged what she had said with a little nod, stalling somewhat as I took another puff on my cigarette. “No. There was no slipping. No secret sneakniness. Not unless we were sleep humping or something.”

“Do you want there to be?” Piper asked and I felt my heart, which had until now been slowing down, start to pump up to its previous speed. I had gotten good at not having to be honest with myself or with anyone else about my friendship with Hancock. Relationship… friendship, whatever the hell it was. But I knew full well that this sort of selfish obliviousness could not go on forever. It was unfair to expect another person to hang around in this stupid, miserable purgatory between committed emotions that I had created for myself.

It’s not as though I hadn’t thought about it. I may be a coward when it comes to these things but I sure as hell wasn’t a barren moron with the intellectual capacity of a burnt shrimp. I was drawn to Hancock in a way that I couldn’t remember ever being with another person in my life; including Nate, who I had thought of as my best friend as well as my husband when he had been alive.

It is easier to love a person, than it is to truly click with them, I think. We humans are capable of loving so many different types of people for any number of reasons you can imagine. It creates a warm feeling, a compassionate feeling. This was the smallest nuance of the feelings that I had for Hancock.

There was a ‘click’ with him. A kind of mutual attraction; a near physical pull from stepping close enough to be drawn into one other’s gravitational field. We got along so indisputably well; almost as though we existed on the same wavelength. There was an irrepressible chemistry; a mutual back and forth to our conversations that simply felt so natural and at the same time, so stimulating. And an overwhelming desire to _be_ close and to _stay_ close. Stupid and cliché I know but I really don’t know how to adequately describe it without resorting to the cheesy classics. It’s just… bizarre. To feel as though someone had been made for you and for you specifically; because how else could you possibly be this drawn to them? How else could they continually meet your unspoken needs, build up on those little blocks of excitement in your soul and convince you, unerringly, of your place in this big, tangled, complicated universe?

Perhaps it is far simpler to say that when we were together, I felt softer, safer and happier than when we were apart. And I think that he may have felt the same way. We had a weird bond, which I couldn’t begin to describe no matter how long I might have tried to nut it out in my head. But I was receptive to it and it drew me inescapably closer when we were together.

Regardless of these intense feelings, I still wasn’t entirely sure that I was ready to be with anyone just yet. The barrier that existed in my mind; the one that still persistently whispered that I was married, stood as the major dividing factor between my taking that next step with Hancock. Whatever form that step may have taken.

“I’m… not sure.” I said, though I detested myself immediately for the weakness of this response. So non-committal, even in the wake of all the complex emotions that I was feeling. “Maybe.”

Piper pulled a face at me and I couldn’t blame her in the least for doing so. “ _Maybe?_ ‘Maybe’s’ not a strong enough feeling to give yourself over to someone. I mean, I’m no expert in these things, Blue but I do know that you gotta care about someone a whole lot more than just half-heartedly if you mean to be with them. Besides, you said yourself that you nearly slept with him way back when. If you wanted to be with him then, surely you have an idea about whether you 'do' or 'don't' want to be with him now.”

“I know, I get that,” I replied softly, wishing I didn’t have to be such a woosy, whingy bitch about it. “It’s not an easy question to answer though. My life is such a turmoil at the moment, it’s… hard to kinda piece together exactly _what_ I’m feeling at any given hour of the day.”

“Are you worried because he’s a Ghoul?” Piper asked and now it was my turn to pull a face. Jesus, you would think after two hundred years, the human race might have progressed enough so that we wouldn’t feel the need to turn our noses up at a mixed couple. Not that Piper possessed a discriminatory bone in her body and not that Ghoul’s were a… race, so to speak. Or were they, if they identified as such? They certainly seemed to prefer this classification more than being referred to as having a ‘degenerative condition’.

Nate and I had gotten a little bit of it when we started dating. His family were descended from Italian immigrants and they had a long deeply ingrained history in Boston; though it was hardly a deterrent to all the naysayers who continually referred to him as a ‘wog’ just about everywhere he went. I wasn’t even from Boston originally myself; my parents and I were from North Dakota. My father’s side were natives to that area and my mother had immigrated over with her family, so that they could conduct work in America.

People had always given Nate and I funny little looks when we had first gotten together. Later, those looks had turned to admiration, as people matured enough to realize how pointless and asinine a practice it was to judge based on race and or skin colour. Apparently, this adult acceptance failed to extend forward two-hundred years into the future, where the notion of a so-called ‘Smoothskin’ dating a ‘Ghoul’ was met with, at the very least, a scrutinizing quirk of the brow and most often with a barely contained reflexive gag which looked to churn up the stomach lining. I found the whole attitude completely pathetic and not in the least bit acceptable; not when the condition was irreparable and unpreventable. It made as much sense as… I don’t know, wrinkling your face up at the sight of a person who might have lost their leg or some such thing. Judging someone for the way they are, rather than for the choices that they make or the way that they behave… it was devastating to see that for all the backward steps we had taken, this prejudice had seen fit to fling itself back the farthest. Where appearance was still deemed an acceptable factor whence considering a person’s worth.

“Of course not. None of that matters to me at all,” I responded sincerely and I wished that I didn’t feel proud of myself for being _so_ enlightened. It wasn’t an achievement for me to have accepted Hancock’s condition and not judge him for it and I truly hated that little part of me that felt like patting myself on the back for being such a nice person. What bullshit. Made me want to give myself a kick up the ass for even feeling so much as an ounce of pride.

If I was being truly honest, I _did_ sometimes wonder whether I would be entirely comfortable if Hancock and I were to become physical. Not that I was repulsed by him in the least, I mean, it was just skin after all and having lived with Nate’s injuries, damaged flesh was not unfamiliar to me. I simply acknowledged that it would be very different from what I had experienced before. Not to mention that I wasn’t sure how I would cope with being intimate with _anyone_ after losing Nate so horribly. What a bridge to hurdle, feeling another man’s hands on me after having only been with my husband for so many years. Let alone to feel one inside of me…

I took a deep breath, fighting back the rising tide of anxiety and grief that threatened to pitch up in my chest and overwhelm my senses. I had kept all this under control for so long, I couldn’t afford to lose it now. There would be plenty of time to go to pieces later; once I had done everything that I needed to do.

“This is, uh… it’s more an emotional thing for me, hun,”I said, waving my hand as Piper rubbed her palm along my upper back, sensing that I was upset. “It’s okay, I’m all right. Besides, you can’t forget that Hancock may be a flirt but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he wants to be with me. You may be reading way too much into all of this.”

Piper sighed and gave me a smile, looking like she thought I was being very foolish now. “You know I ain’t his biggest fan, Blue. And I’d much rather you find someone else who could treat you right and give you a lot more security in your life. Thing is… I think he really _does_  care about you. Enough that you really might not have a choice but to deal with it when we get to town. After all this time apart… wouldn’t surprise me if he goes and says something this trip. I just want you to be prepared for that.”

I mulled on this for a moment, taking myself back through the times that I had spent with Hancock. The contented warmth I had felt, the way that we egged one another on. I felt a kind of… excitement when I was with him that I hadn’t felt for a very long time. An unspoken blessing that permitted me to be myself; to not conform to the noxious little role of a doting stepford wife, tending to her geraniums of a balmy Sunday afternoon.

And so far as romantic prospects went, Hancock would have been a fitting choice for me, if either of us had been so inclined as to get involved. Being the mayor of one of the two major settlements in the Commonwealth, he had equity and security; so far as having a place to live and caps in his pocket to supplement a comfortable lifestyle. He didn’t want children of his own and wasn’t able to have any besides, which suited me down to the ground since I wasn’t keen to have any more of my own either. Plus, with limited birth control options in the Commonwealth, the fact that he was sterile meant that I wouldn’t have to live in constant fear of getting pregnant. The freedom that this presented made him near perfect in that sense because I honestly could not imagine bringing another child into this frightening world, not after Nate and not after having Shaun taken away from me. The idea was absolutely terrifying.

There was also the fact that we rubbed along together so well and I’m certain that this dynamic would have shifted comfortably over if our relationship became romantic. Not to mention that I considered him to be an absolutely wonderful person, a deceptively soft-hearted man and incredibly exciting. There was something… so desirable about how dangerous he could be; something that worked its way past everything I had come to expect as a modern woman and stirred the very ancient responses in me that shrieked; _‘Dear God, he’s killing something that might have killed me and now there’s blood and guts and masculine pheromones flying about all over the place and – my goodness, would you just_ look _at how broad his shoulders are - I think I might just have to jolly well sling my feet up over them after I wash all that blood off of his muscular chest with a tiny, soap soaked rag that just isn’t doing the job in a reasonable amount of time but hey, that just gives me more time to build a house around him, quash the last remaining remnants of his independence and keep him here in an alternating pattern of fucking me and going out to hunt bear while I watch him lather himself all up with blood and guts and get all turned on all over again’._

But then of course, there were the negatives. He was the mayor of a very dangerous town and at constant risk because of it. During his now eleven year 'rule' there had been a number of attempts to usurp him; all of which had ended violently. If I were to become attached to Hancock, I myself would be at risk and may in fact be used against him by anyone unscrupulous enough to play a loved one off as a bargaining chip.

There was also the fact that he used Chems. Being an alcoholic myself, I had no right to point fingers and it wasn't as though he was addicted or using chronically, but it still concerned me a little. I couldn't ever help that. I might always be worried that something would go wrong, or that he would overdose or poison himself or something. Hancock wasn't as big a risk tasker as he supposedly was when he was younger but he could still be a little reckless at times. Being a nurturing sort of person, I knew that I would probably spend the rest of my life fretting after him every time he took off to do goodness knows what. It was bad enough just being apart for a month. I had worried after him at a distance; wondering if his leg was still giving him much pain, if he was bored, or lonely or god forbid, lying dead somewhere.

Piper seemed to understand just what I was thinking and gave me a pet to the side of the arm, her eyes creasing in sympathetically. “Well… to each their own, I suppose, Blue. I’ve got to admit… I don’t know if I could ever go to bed with a Ghoul.” She flinched her eyes shut for a moment and then hefted an impatient sigh, looking annoyed with herself. “I know it makes me sound like a bad person but… I just don’t know if I _could_. Even someone like Adrian, who’s a _hell_ of a lot sweeter than Hancock.”

I pursed my lips in, feeling annoyed on behalf of this slight and tilted my forehead towards her. “Hancock _is_ sweet, Piper. I know you and the others don’t get to see a lot of that but he has _such_ a good heart and he cares so much about other people… That’s the thing about him that… makes me _want_ to be with him, you know?” I snapped the fingers of my spare hand together and then pointed them towards her as a memory surged to the forefront of my mind. “For example… you remember that time we stayed in Diamond City? Couple of months back?”

“Which time?” Piper asked, quirking her brow. “The time where you just about fell into Mayor McDonough’s toilet or the time where Hancock got a permanent dent to the back of his head?”

“The second one,” I said, frowning a little at how she chose to define what had for the most part a pretty terrible and upsetting event. Which, yes, had left Hancock with a bit of a dent to the back of his noggin but with his hat on, it wasn’t like you could tell. “I think that’s when I really started thinking of Hancock differently, you know? _Not_ because he got knocked on the back of the scon but because of the way he treated that boy we met. You remember?”

“That’s right,” Piper said, nodding thoughtfully to herself. “Little Daft O’Conner… Jesus, I’d nearly forgotten about him…”

My eyes creased as unbidden emotion made them heavy. “Much like Diamond City and Mayor McDonough had from the looks of things. He must have felt so lost and scared… and then Hancock stepped in. Might not have seemed like much but what he did for that boy was a kindness… and I was _so_ proud of him for it, Piper. It might have been easier just to look the other way, same as everyone else. But he doesn’t do that. Not ever. He steps up, regardless of the effort it takes. That’s the Hancock that I saw all those months ago… and that’s the one I started falling for.”

 

**~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I had a sad experience today. I was in a games store and I found two terrific items of Fallout memorabilia that I just had to have. A Nuku-Cola trademark mug and a Far Harbour t-shirt. Hubby had the bank card so I wasn’t able to get them right away and as such, I requested that the young man at the shop stick my name to the front of these items and hold them in reserve for me until I returned for them tomorrow. Since then, we have had to pay all our bills and have no money left for anything other than food. The mug and t-shirt will not be collected. And the game shop has my name stuck to them. They will forever curse that name, as the vixen who lowered their sales ratings by preventing them from selling these two popular game items that are currently in such high demand. I fear that retribution is forthcoming. Perhaps I had better find the time to go in during my lunch break and explain my tragic situation to them. Yet somehow, I am embarrassed to admit that I cannot afford my t-shirt and mug. And at the same time, spiteful, in not wanting anyone else to purchase them. Such a sad experience.
> 
> But nothing for you to concern yourselves with, dear readers! The next part will be released in a few days and then you can find out just how Hancock got a dent to the back of his head! … Wow… that sounds so gosh darn exciting. Do try to contain yourselves, my darlings!


	4. Anagnorisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This hadn’t been the first time that Cait had broached the subject of Hancock and I potentially becoming lovers. Not that she ‘broached’ a topic so much as hurtled headlong at it like a surly Brahmin at an iron gate. Subtlety did not factor into this girls life in any way shape or form and yet she was surprisingly intuitive when it came to people’s feelings. Sexual feelings predominately. On the day that we had first met, she had actually assumed that Hancock was my partner until I had set her straight. I explained that we operated in a ‘partnership’ during combat situations, which might give off the impression that we were closer than we actually were. She hadn’t been convinced. And subsequently never failed to miss an opportunity to try and push me ever so closer into his metaphorical and literal pants. Girl had done everything but rip our clothes off and bang us together like a couple of dolls.
> 
> The thing is… she wasn’t wrong... "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in the following work are the trademark property of Bethesda and any resemblance to persons being either living or dead is purely coincidental. Which is a shame because who wouldn’t want to hang out with Nick Valentine all day; sitting in chairs and drinking from a cup that magically appears from nowhere? I know I would. 
> 
> A/N: And lo, part two. I apologize, as I was intending to have this out in a couple of days but there was a lot more to this chapter than I originally anticipated and it has taken more work than all the other chapters combined. I’ve really got to stop writing so much, this is getting completely out of control!
> 
> On a positive note though, I guess it shows how difficult it is to resist writing these characters stories. Hey, if you were ever worried that Fallout 4 never had enough character contact or interactions, just throw all of this chapter in and you’ll be sated! Or potentially overwhelmed, one or the other. This flashback scene was all meant to be condensed into this chapter but it got way too long, so I then in turn had to split this so now there are… three parts altogether. I know, I know, bad Madam Mortis. I even tried to edit out a whole heap of content but I worked so effing hard on this that I didn’t have the heart to strike out any more. In any event, I hope that you enjoy and as usual, I’ll see you on the other side! Far, far, FAR on the other side!

> _“Whatever you are, be a good one.” **~ Abraham Lincoln ~**_

****

** Evelyn Hallows **

**_Diamond City – Five months ago…_ **

Diamond City; the unofficial, yet unarguably recognized capital of the Commonwealth. A fortified, organized and well stocked establishment, built within the walls of an old baseball field and protected by the towering green walls that surrounded it.

Helmed by Mayor Mathew McDonough; an extremely pompous and ignorant overseer; skilled in little more than blathering weightless discourse and somehow actively ignoring those concerns which did not suit him to take into consideration. Such as the kidnapping of his citizens and the looming threat of the Institute and its synth replacements; who cropped up with the determination of drag weed. In fact, I couldn’t say with any certainty just _what_ McDonough considered to be a worthwhile expenditure of his time, but it sure didn’t seem to reflect the opinions of his constituents as a whole.

I had liked Diamond City at first; the place appeared thriving and busy and people seemed to just be getting on with it, which was awesome to see in a world that had literally had the starch knocked out of it. That was until I had found out about the mass eviction of the Ghoul population over ten years ago; an act that had been driven by Mayor McDonough, who had been an electoral candidate at the time. So many Ghouls had lost their homes on account of this and some had even lost their lives when they had been forced out; unprepared and unsupported into the ironically indiscriminating Wasteland.

I began to resent Diamond City, its mayor and its people. The city tried to pretend as though it was a nice shiny apple; ripe with opportunity and ready to be plucked from the tree and taken between your waiting teeth. But this façade only hid the rotten flesh beneath; crawling with the worms and bugs that had eaten through the core from the side that had been facing the trunk.

We couldn’t exactly _avoid_ visiting though. Nick may have kindly devoted the majority of his run time to helping me comb the Commonwealth for Shaun but he still had his full time job as a detective to attend to. _This_ is what had brought us back to Diamond City five months ago; so that he could check up on his case load and close off any of the jobs that had been left hanging in the interim period. Piper was also due to draft up another copy of _The Publick Occurrences_ ; not that she was a loss for material these days. She had accumulated enough stories from our various forays about the Wasteland that she would be able to produce a good ten or twenty pages of content if she had half a mind to.

It hadn’t been a particularly good trip, I remember and that was discounting the fact that I had very little tolerance for Diamond City and the majority of its inhabitants. I don’t know why most folks tend to stick their noses up at Goodneighbor; the people there may have had their problems but they were on the whole a damn sight more pleasant to speak with than the Diamond City crowd. And especially accommodating if you happened to have ovaries. The residents of Diamond City on the other hand didn’t seem to have time for anything other than their own agenda; unless of course they were asking you to try and fix something for them and then it was a _whole_ other story.

It didn’t help that Ghouls had been subsequently ‘banned’ from the city following their forced eviction. Everywhere we went, people shot us nasty remarks about Hancock, with some of the guards even openly telling us to ‘get that _thing_ out of there’. None of this was addressed to Hancock himself; it’s like they thought he was too stupid to understand what they were saying or unworthy of being communicated with. On the whole, I think it upset me a great deal more than it did him. He either just ignored them, gave them the finger or made some jab back about their appearance or personal hygiene or the dating habits of their mother.

And then of course we had to go and run into McDonough of all people. Well, hadn’t _that_ been delightfully awkward? The two veritable 'Titans’ of the Commonwealth; mayors to neighboring and vastly contrasting domiciles and one belonging to a race that was publicly condemned by the other. People actually stopped what they were doing and simply stood and stared as the two converged on one another; waiting to see what would happen when these mortal rivals crossed paths. They would remain wondering, for they didn’t exchange so much as a word. McDonough simply looked at John like he was something unpleasant that had been scraped from the bottom of his shoe but fundamentally nothing worth concerning himself over. Hancock glowered back with eyes that had sunk into narrow black slits, looking for the world as though he had just digested a ladle of bad Wasabi. And then they had both continued walking on without so much as a ‘how do you do’. The others looked positively perplexed by the nature of this exchange; I suppose that they thought, much like I had, that if Hancock ever crossed paths with McDonough that he would say… _something_ , in the very least. A witty put-down perhaps or an upfront proclamation about how Diamond City’s pompous politician felt he had the right to enforce a racial outlaw based on circumstantial occurrences in the distant past. But to offer up instead that stony silence? It seemed entirely out of character for Hancock.

Unlike me however, they didn’t know the exact details of McDonough and Hancock’s relationship and were in the dark as to why his response had been so underwhelming. Even knowing as I did, I still worried what Hancock might actually have been experiencing in that moment and whether he was in fact repressing some fairly damaging feelings. Being angry was natural of course, especially now that he himself formally represented the Ghoul populace at large but there was something else there that seemed to simmer beneath the surface which made me worry for him. It was almost like…. I don’t know, exactly… awkwardness? Intimidation, maybe? Fear wasn’t the right word, not for someone as gutsy and confident as Hancock. More like a trace of a lingering emotion from the past, which he wasn’t quite able to shake when he found himself face to face with the other man.

It hadn’t taken long to distract me from my musings on the matter, as Doc Crocker had then crossed our path and made a bee-line straight for me and my dubious face. From feeling tentatively content with my appearance, I was suddenly thrown into a whirlpool of insecurity as he pointed out various aspects of my exterior that he could either sculpt, tighten, pluck or enhance. From the color of my eyes to the uneven sinking of my left boob (imperceptible to me but blatantly obvious to the Doc) nothing was left sacred. The others might have gotten a look in themselves, but Hancock cleverly shut him up by sticking his own face in the firing line and asking what Doc Crocker could do for him. Poor man just about fainted on the spot, I think.

Unmolested for the remainder of the trip, Nick and Piper went their separate ways, leaving the rest of us to continue on to the Dugout Inn, where we rented out one of the rooms for the night. The bar/motel was one of only a few places I could tolerate visiting while in Diamond City and was run by the Bobrov brothers; Vadim and Yefim. Twins, as far as I could tell, who spoke with thick Russian accents, in spite of world travel having been impossible since the days of the war. Just as Cait had been raised in a dominant Irish community however, I could only surmise that the brothers must have been living with a Russian family, who had remained separate from the American community following the war. Speculation thus far, I really hadn’t spent enough time with either of them to figure it out for sure.

They were a lovely pair of boys though; near identical in appearance but with personalities so contrary they would not have been out of place in a farcical Greek comedy. Yefim was calm, serious and reserved; preferring to wait for people to approach him, rather than initiating a conversation. He often served as the voice of reason for his far more gregarious brother. Which was a good thing because Vadim Bobrov was without a doubt one of the bawdiest, most extroverted people I had ever met. Where Yefim’s voice was soft and clement, Vadim’s was a great bellowing baritone, with a laugh that could be heard from a number of rooms away. If they did not look so much alike, it would be hard to imagine that they were at all related, even with their matching accents.

The brothers had always been friendly to us whenever we came to town and they didn’t blink twice at Hancock either (or the fact that Dogmeat followed us into the bar and made himself at home up on the sofa). It was one of the few peaceful reprieves that we could have and made life a hell of a lot easier than if we were forced to try and squeeze into Piper or Nick’s homes. Plus, you know, they ran a bar. I find it very hard to dislike the people that feed me my liquor.

We had settled in for the night and Piper and Nick had joined us after attending to their individual responsibilities. Drinks were being thrown back, so I figured it might be a good idea to get some food into our collective stomachs before there was some spectacular and unscheduled redecorating of the bathroom.

Which is how Deacon and I then found myself in the Dugout’s make shift kitchen; pitching all our various food stuffs into the most filling dish we could make on such short supplies. I suppose it might have been easier to have run out to centre field and grabbed a few servings of noodles but Deacon didn’t like them very much and most everyone was in fact a little shot of them; Diamond City tradition or not. And with Scarlett having finished up kitchen duties for the night, it would have been more than rude to have requested that she trundle back in, fling on her apron and make us dinner.

And besides, it’s not as though Deacon or I disliked cooking. Especially when we got to use an actual stove – oh, now _that_ was a luxury in this day and age! And now I just feel sad for admitting that.

“I actually posed as a chef for a few years in one of my previous incarnations,” Deacon was boasting; a claim which was most likely a lie or at best an embellishment of _some_ variation of the actual facts. Watching as he chopped the carrots and gourd into neat shapes however, I didn’t doubt that he had some skill in the kitchen at least. “Ran a little food stall out in the Commonwealth, feeding hungry caravaners and traders from the far south. Whoever rocked up, really. Whole bunch of Raider’s tried to rob me once and so I jammed all my rotten food scraps into a Junk Jet and let ‘em have it. Classic.”

I smiled as he waffled on in his happy way, wondering if perhaps the truth of the matter was that he had been the one to cook for his wife when he had been married. Of all the stories he had told me, I had some faith that the one where he had been married to a Synth woman and attempting to lead a normal life, was true. He had a different look in his face when he had spoken of her; regardless of the extent to which that face had been worked on throughout the years. Or maybe it was the softness to his tone that leant it some air of authenticity perhaps, I don’t know. Sometimes, I got the impression that Deacon considered the truth to be far too painful a matter to ever be entirely honest about and found much greater comfort in the wild stories and outlandish tales that he perpetuated instead. I could sort of understand that. Besides, I can’t say that he never kept me entertained.

I had purchased some Radstag from Molly, the local butcher; requesting meat that was specifically still on the bone. There were a couple of shanks, some ribs and even some cuts from the neck and spine. Most Commonwealth people apparently didn’t want to touch any of these pieces of meat, thinking that they were pointless and too difficult to cook with, so it was never in short supply. I planned to slow cook them in a sauce mixture that I had boiled together from sliced Tato’s, red wine, Purified water, Brahmin stock and a little Mutfruit juice. I had tried something similar on the trail before and it had turned out working quite well for the limited resources that we had. (Slow cooking over a camp fire? Never again, if it could help it.) Deacon had suggested that we pair this with some oven cooked vegetables, so that everyone could get a decent, well rounded feed into them.

Gosh darn it if I didn’t miss potatoes though. _Real_ potatoes, I mean, not this strange tomato/potato hybrid that runs rampant around the Commonwealth now. How the shit did that even happen in the first place? Did a whole bunch of tomato plants get root friendly with a potato crop and make a mutant baby plantation? The speculation itself beggars belief. Tomatoes were a _fruit_ for fucks sake, they weren’t even the same genus as a bloody potato. The only thing they really had in common was a vaguely similar sounding name and a roundish, knobbly shape.

While Deacon took care of the vegetables, I lightly coated the Radstag offcuts with flour, seasoned them with salt and pepper and started browning them in a pan on the stove top. The smell must have been seeping out into the bar area proper, because Hancock stuck his nasal cavity into the room just as I plucked the meat out of the pan and lined them up in an oven dish.

“Whatever you’ve got going on in here, smells fucking amazing.” He said as he sauntered in, taking a chug from one of the beer bottles that he was balancing in his left hand. He held a glass of wine in the other, which he passed over into my very receptive fingers.

I took a sip and smiled up at him gratefully. It had taken some time for me to grow comfortable with Hancock’s appearance but not nearly so long as I expected it might. I thought I would end up being one of those awkward people who pretend so hard not to notice another person’s physical condition or injuries that they end up looking completely unnatural and ignorant in their efforts to appear unconcerned. Fortunately for me, Hancock was so chilled about his Ghoulification that I never needed to worry about accidentally offending him or behaving in an overly sensitive way. It allowed me to grow gradually accustomed to the sight of his face, so that I now barely noticed that there was a thing awry at all.

I must sound like such a terrible person to even admit to being troubled in the first instance. You must understand however, that Hancock was the first Ghoul that I had ever encountered in the Commonwealth. Exempting a number of feral’s of course but I didn’t entirely make the connection; given their heightened levels of aggression and genuine physical decay.

When I first saw Hancock’s face, it wasn’t disgust that registered within me so much as sorrow. I had a passing and rather strange thought that perhaps he had a type of cancer, brought on by the increase of Radiation in the Commonwealth over the past two hundred years. Or that he had been completely burnt in some sort of accident or possibly even gotten caught in the tailwind of an incendiary grenade.

His face and hands were bedecked with deep scars and rivulets; similar to how a recovering burn victim might appear and yet not quite identical. It looked to me as though the skin itself had actually grown to be so tight, that it had started tearing in places from the pressure. Hancock subsequently informed me that this was almost exactly as it had occurred when he started ‘Ghoulifying’. His understanding was that most Ghoul’s in the Commonwealth didn’t continue to deteriorate after their initial ‘change’ but the wounds that opened in their skin did not repair the same way that a humans otherwise might. This resulted in the deep tissue and epidermal scarring, particularly prevalent in the face where the skin was naturally much thinner. Most of the scarring itself appeared to taper down towards the mouth, the way that wrinkles did as a person naturally progressed into old age.  

Ghoul’s are also missing most of their nose, as the cartilage rots away from the initial degenerative effects of their condition. It leaves their nasal cavity almost entirely hallowed out, with the muscle beneath kind of healed over to form a shiny welt, kind of like a third degree burn scar. The nasal bone still remained, which actually covered the sinus holes themselves. Hancock had been happy enough to explain all this to me when I’d gotten extremely bold after a couple of drinks. He said that sometimes his sinuses became more irritated, because the remainder of his nose wasn’t there to filter a number of things out but the nasal bone prevented much of the crap from getting directly inside. He had even let me poke my finger into the base of the cavity to see what it felt like, which is something I can’t ever say any of my other friends have let me do.

 _“Just stand clear if I ever have to sneeze.”_ He had joked, jabbing his hand forward and spreading his fingers to simulate an explosion. He then went on to explain that Ghoul’s very rarely got sick with colds or the flu, due to something overdeveloped in their immune system. On the rare occasions that they did however, they wore a cloth around their face. I guess a runny nose would be even worse without any cartilage to temper it down; the cavity would probably just fill up with snot like a horrible little swimming pool.

Like a number of Ghouls, Hancock’s eyes had changed as well; the iris having expanded outward and turning black, which rendered it indistinguishable from the pupil. The end result as such, was that his eyes appeared to be entirely black. I had been close enough a few times to see a flash of the white sclera when his eye was moving about in the socket but it was mostly concealed when looking at him face on.

In spite of these physical anomalies, there was something about Hancock that was just… well, _sexy_ , is the only word that seems to do it justice. It’s kind of hard to describe, though personality wise he certainly had a lot going for him. (Well, at least _I_ thought so). He was clever, charming, fair natured and decent; not to mention one of the ballsiest sons of bitches I had ever met. It just took a while to really get past the fact that his skin was damaged but when you did, _that_ was when you were able to see that he wasn’t actually unattractive.

He had a strong jaw and high cheekbones, which gave his face a lovely, oval shape and a solid line around the mouth. Ironically, I could see that Hancock was simply one of those physically blessed people who seem to have been born with all the right pieces in all the right places. Though not especially tall, he wasn’t short; possessing a toned body, long legs and a slender waist. He also had perfectly gorgeous broad shoulders and flawless posture, almost like a dancer or alternatively someone who had served in the military. He even had a nice round bottom and beautifully shaped hands.

Not to mention his voice; which had a sensual, euphonious quality to it, with only the slightest affectation from his Ghoulification. It had a gravelly edge and was smooth and deep; the sort of voice that when used correctly could lure a person into any number of seductions. It was well suited to a charismatic individual like himself; someone with whom the power of words held a great deal of significance. I mean Jesus, the guy could have read a pamphlet to me about the side effects of cellulite cream and I would have melted like a tub of ice-cream left forgotten on the kitchen sink.

I suppose there would be a number of people who would look at Hancock and say what a waste it was that he had done this to himself. I didn’t share that opinion in the least. This was the John Hancock that I knew. The _only_ one and I liked him just fine the way that he was. I even liked his eyes, which far from appearing insect like to me, looked warm and so gentle most of the time. I alikened them instead to a pair of round black buttons, sewn into the face of a little snub-nosed teddy bear. And when his mouth twisted up into that soft bow of a smile, he even _looked_ a little like a teddy bear, I thought. (Never mind that he had laughed fit to bust when I told him this). There was just something… wholesome and pleasant about his face, something that surpassed the scarring, the furrowed skin and the hallowed out nose. Something that still made him handsome and appealing.

I think what really sold it was that _he_ was content in himself and it showed in his face and in the way he conducted himself in his day to day goings on. Confidence can be sexy if it is tempered with humility and a good sense of humor, and this was John Hancock to a T.

“So, what’s cooking good looking?” He asked, breaking me out of my thoughts as he peered over my shoulder into the oven tray. I caught a whiff of the cologne that he routinely dabbed on his neck and had to suppress a traitorously hormonal sigh. It was one of those smells I always got weak for. It took me back to those times, not so far distant, when Nate and I would make love and my chin would be resting up on his shoulder, the scent of his aftershave drifting up from the sweat dappled skin of his throat. Even now just the hint of Hancock’s cologne made my insides a little quivery and I took another rather generous gulp of wine to try and compose myself, squeezing my thighs together tightly.

Fortunately, Deacon was kind enough to answer on my behalf. “Radstag on the bone in red wine sauce with oven baked vegetables,” He said, turning away from the bench top and wiping his hands off on the frilly pink apron that he was wearing. It had a nasty Stepford wife looking quality about it, which made the feminist in me curl her lip in displeasure. Good thing Piper hadn’t yet cast eyes on it, she’d be well off on a rant before I’d be able to calm her.

Hancock flashed Deacon a tired, yet still somehow indulgent look as he passed over the second beer. “What the hell made you think I was talking to you, Dipshit?” He retorted; prompting Deacon into dropping his mouth wide open in a show of melodramatic offense. “You hear ‘good looking’ and you think I could have somehow been talking about _your_ nasty fucking face? A face ya wouldn’t have to keep changing if ya mother had done you the decency of laying off the god damned PsychoJet whilst she was pregnant, mind you.”

Now most folks would probably take umbrage with being spoken to in this fashion but Deacon on the other hand offered up a wide, truly satisfied looking smile in response to the abuse just levelled at him. I’ve never heard people be so nasty to one another as these two could be and yet they absolutely loved the shit out of it. When MacCready joined the fray, the results of their friendly roasting sessions were enough to split my side from laughter and I often ended up falling off of whatever I had been sitting on because I lost control of my legs. (And almost my bladder, if we’re being perfectly honest).

“This coming from a guy whose own face looks like it took a battering from the coat hanger his mom was jabbing up inside of herself to try and get rid of him,” Deacon shot back and I nearly spurted my wine out of my nose, completely unprepared for dealing with a statement like this. Jesus Christ, did these guys have _any_ boundaries whatsoever? “It’s no wonder you’re so damn impossible to kill, you learnt how to fucking dodge while you were still in utero!”

Hancock looked positively delighted by the comeback and was laughing just as much as I was. It always amazed me, how these two had gotten to be such good friends from being absolutely terrible to one another. When they had first met, they hadn’t been quite so amenable; Hancock was used to being palavered to and Deacon was used to pushing other people’s buttons. It did not make for a good combination. (Though I do believe that this was mainly as a result of Hancock needing to get the slightest bit over himself.)

“Oh my fucking God, _no_.” I said, pointing my finger at Deacon in a chastising fashion. I don’t think he took me the slightest bit seriously, because I was still smiling and my eyes were still a little wet from where they had teared up. “You can’t go and say something like that, it crosses the bloody line!”

“Nah, that was good,” Hancock insisted, using the side of his hand to wipe the corner of his own eye. Like me, he was still smirking and didn’t look at all concerned with what Deacon had said. “You just watch yourself, Dipstick. Coupla more drinks in me and I’ll think of a real zinger.”

“Seems like you’re already a few drinks down as it is,” I said, picking up on the heavy smell of alcohol adorning his breath. “You wanna be careful or you’ll be spewing for both accuracy and distance before too long.”

Hancock heaved a very maidenly sigh, tilting his head as though appealing for patience. “Oh Munch… where were you these last two decades or so when I’ve been drinking by myself unsupervised?” He slung his arm around my head and gave my hair a little ruffle, which was something of an annoying custom of his. “Ain’t no need to be jealous, just because you’re stuck in here, kiddo. I gotcha a bottle for the table. You’ll be caught up in no time.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his cheerful tone, annoyed though I was that he insisted on messing up my hair all the time. Tipsy Hancock was always a lot of fun; even more than slightly-somewhat-sober Hancock, who wasn’t exactly a dullard by any stretch of the imagination. He was a lot more touchy feely when he was drinking; more loose and affectionate somehow. One of those people you always enjoy having a session with, because you know you’re going to have a laugh or an interesting conversation at the least.

“Considering we’re hanging around for a coupla days, can’t hurt if we just chill and have a good night, boss.” Deacon concurred, taking a slug of his own beer. It looked a little bizarre whence compared to the backdrop of his pink, frilly apron. “Can’t be any harm in the odd occasion of us enjoying ourselves, can there? Unprecedented Super Mutant attacks and extra-terrestrial anal probes, notwithstanding.”

“Hey, don’t go making me out to be the boring one now.” I said, holding my arms up beside my head defensively. “You boys know I like a good time just as much as the next beggar. I just don’t want us going completely tropo and wrecking the bar and or getting the security guys all up on our butts.” With that in mind, I gave Hancock a stout smack to his own backside and shot him a hard look from beneath my tilted brow. “You’re not taking Jet or anything, are you?”

Now it was Hancock’s turn to look defensive. “Just a coupla Mentats and one joint. Nothin’ ta go getting your knickers in a twist over.” He smiled then as he brought both hands together in a prayer gesture, keeping his beer bottle balanced between them as he did. “Now, would you _please_ just try to relax, Munch? I’m way too old to go and make a complete fool of myself anymore. All I want is to have a few drinks, chill out - ” At this, he brought his hands apart and wrapped both arms around my body, bringing me up against him in an overly tight, comradely hug. Never failed; few drinks in and he softened like clay beneath the pounding rain. “ – and for _one night_ not give a shit about what the rest of the Commonwealth is up to. Now does that sound good to you?”

As usual, it was near impossible for me to resist an entreaty from Hancock; especially when it was delivered with his usual air of reticent charm. Guy didn’t even have to try and he could talk me around to just about anything, within reason. I smiled, aware that my cheeks felt the slightest bit flushed but hoping my usual thick armour of makeup would hide it.

“You know it does.” I replied, reaching up with my spare hand to pet the arm that he had twined across my upper chest. “Just… _please_ don’t throw up all over the Porta-Diner or anything. If ya start feeling vomitty, just be sensible and call it a night. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Can only promise to do my best, sweetheart.” Hancock said, bending his elbow back so that he could give my cheek a little pinch and twist; the sort that an elderly lady might have bestowed upon an unappreciative Grandchild. Deacon in the meantime was laughing to himself, repeating ‘vomitty’ as though it were the best pun he had ever heard. Seemed as though I was rewriting the Commonwealth’s vocabulary with my childish phrasing, which wasn’t exactly a good thing. The world didn’t really need to be regressed back any further.

“Get out of it,” I chided, gently tapping Hancock’s hand away and then smacking him on the backside once more to shoo him out of the kitchen. “On with you now, before I whack you on the ass with a wooden spoon. Something I’m sure you wouldn’t have been unfamiliar with as a child.”

Hancock laughed as he turned back to me, twirling his finger in a semi-circle the way one does when they recall something. “Jesus, that takes me back. Reminds me of the time I was getting underfoot in the kitchen when I was a kid and my Pop cracked a couple of Mirelurk eggs on my head.”

“Well I’m sure that you deserved it.” I teased, using the cleanest table spoon I could find to fish some of the sauce out of the tray for Deacon to taste. He slurped a small amount into his mouth, nodded and gave a thumbs up, which I took to mean that it wasn’t entirely terrible.

“Without a doubt.” Hancock replied honestly, taking another gulp of his beer and looking glumly at Deacon who was making a big show of licking his lips and ‘mwaa-ing’ like a French sous chef as he kissed his fingertips. I sighed and rustled up another spoon, dipping it into the sauce again and then gesturing for Hancock to come back over so that he could sample it himself. Big bad mayor might have been a veritable powerhouse of brutality in the Wasteland but he was no different to any other man when it came to his belly. And being jealous.

“Come here then,” I said, holding the spoon aloft so that Hancock could slurp up the contents. I held it a little higher than usual, just so that he was forced to try and reach it by standing on his tippy-toes, his mouth gaping at the air like a baby bird stretching upward for its mothers beak.

“Aww, whatsa matter, sawned-off?” Deacon mocked, leaning back against the bench top and taking another sip from his beer as he watched me make a spectacle of the man who ran the hardest, baddest town in the Commonwealth. “You look like a runty Brahmin calf trying to suckle a teat.” Of course he had to then emulate, tipping his own head back and making suckling mouth movements that were almost a little obscene.

The boys always teased Hancock about being short, though he wasn’t short so much as he was just… shorter than they were. And not by much at that; infinitesimally if anything. He had a good four or five inches on me as it was, so I couldn’t quite understand what they were going on about but it seemed to really rub Hancock up the wrong way. Everyone’s got that ‘one thing’ that they can’t help but feel insecure about and even Hancock wasn’t entirely bullet proof.

“Never had to reach far to suckle a teat yet, Dickhead.” Hancock shot back, grabbing a firm hold of my wrist and bringing my arm sternly down so that the spoon was now level with his lips. “Unlike you, who needs a moonless night, two for one shots and a made-up story about dying from a cancer that you acquired from using too much wig adhesive.”

“Least I never needed a stepladder,” Deacon rounded off smoothly and I snorted so loud that I nearly lost all the contents of the spoon all over the floor. Hancock managed to swoop in just in the nick of time and close his mouth around the utensil. His lips were quirked up slightly at the corners and he shook his head, the handle of the spoon going from side to side as he seemed to concede defeat on that exchange. I chanced another sip of my wine, sighing in appreciation as Hancock took the spoon out of his mouth, leaving the silver surface entirely clean and shook it lightly in Deacon’s direction.

“This fucking shit about my height has gotta stop, man. What am I, like, _two_ inches shorter than you?”

“Yeah and don’t you go forgettin’ it.” Deacon laughed, turning back to the bench top and continuing to smile to himself as he started to line his carefully cut vegetables into one of the baking trays. I chuckled as I gave Hancock a comforting little rub to the arm, reaching over to pluck the spoon out of his hand.

“So, what did you think?” I asked, dropping the spoon into the sink; which itself was already brimming with hot soapy water, reading for me to start the washing up.

Hancock made an ‘okay’ sign with his fingers. “Awesome as always, Munch. I’m tellin’ ya… you’re gonna have to put together a little Wasteland cookbook or somethin’ one day. … On second thought; scrap that. Only give everyone else a chance to eat the way that we do. I’d like to think we’ve got ourselves somethin’ special here.”

I felt a warm stirring in my chest at his words and I put my fingers to the apex of my throat, making a little ‘aww’ sound so that he knew I was flattered. “Well isn’t that sweet? Thankyou, darling _._ ” I said, petting my fingertips against his chest and taking one last parting sip of my wine before setting it down on the bench top.

Satisfied that the sauce mixture was well balanced, I decided that it was high time to get this bad boy on to burner, otherwise everyone would be eating at midnight. I turned back to the stove and bent at the waist so that I could open the oven door. The blast of hot air that rushed out assured me that the temperature was right and I carefully eased the tray containing the meat and sauce mixture onto the middle shelf. After taking a moment to make certain that it was safely balanced, I shut the oven door and set the timer for one hour.

“Stop staring at her ass, you big voyeur,” I heard Deacon say suddenly and I rocketed back into a vertical position, spinning about so fast it wouldn’t have surprised me if I created a mini whirlwind in the kitchen. I caught Hancock twisting his head towards Deacon, his brows axing down so quickly into a filthy expression which would have frightened much braver men.

“Up yours, Dipshit.” He snarled and the fact that he seemed to be taking the jab so seriously, made me think that he had in fact been caught staring at my backside and was embarrassed about it. Which I couldn’t say bothered me all that much; hey, you go through life receiving as little attention as I did and people checking you out always feels a treat. But it was obvious that _he_ was feeling awkward about it, so I scrabbled quickly for something to say in order to ease the tension.

“Just ignore him, hun,” I said, turning Hancock’s shoulder back towards me and patting the other side of his chest so that his temper was hopefully directed away from Deacon. “He’s only jealous that you haven’t been checking out _his_ ass. Especially after he went to all that effort to put that pretty little apron on for you.”

“Hey, at least _someone_ noticed,” Deacon sniffed, jumping on board my little joke and riding it to safety. He very rarely appeared frightened of Hancock but I had seen him back down before when the Ghoul’s temper spiked on those few rare occasions. I think he knew that I was good protection in these circumstances, because I was usually able to calm Hancock down for whatever the reason. I guess I’m just one of those inoffensive sorts of people who’s hard to be angry at because I provide no sport in return.

Hancock’s face soothed out a little and I could see that he had calmed down quickly in the space of a few seconds. I suppose he could see that I wasn’t angry or upset by what Deacon had said, or concerned that there may have been truth to it. I placed my fingertips underneath the bottom of his beer and raised it, indicating that he should take another sip from it but he paused and stared into the base, where only a few dregs remained.

“Aaaand I’m running on empty.” He confirmed, slugging back the last little nip from the bottle. “Best get myself back out there before happy hour rounds up.”

He turned to leave but then pirouetted suddenly on his heel and pointed his finger towards me. “Oh, almost forgot why I came in here in the first place. Just wondering if you got enough to feed another mouth. Kid’s just rocked up, thought he could use a bite.”

“Some of your wild oats make their way back home finally?” Deacon enquired, one dark eyebrow quirking above the line of his glasses. Hancock scratched his chin with his middle finger, clearly directing it at Deacon.

“Jealous talk from someone who never got to plough the pasture himself. Nah, it’s the kid on the radio, you know? Travis ‘Lonely’ Miles or whatever the hell he’s calling himself these days.”

I felt a burgeoning warmth rush up through my chest at the sound of the boys name. “Of course. Yes, we can give him a feed; abso-freakin’-lutely.” I said, sweeping up a number of items I had used in my food prep and dropping them into the soapy water in the sink. “Let me come out and say hi first, it’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“Yeah, he was asking after ya.” Hancock said, extending his free arm so that I could slide my hand into the crook of his elbow. Gal could get used to this sort of gentlemanly treatment. “Hey Dipshit? You can finish up in here, right? Let the lady have some time to kick her feet up and chill?”

Deacon gave a supportive wave of his hand, using the other to shake up a bottle of vegetable oil which he then carefully dribbled over the vegetables. “Course. Go on with ya, boss, I got it covered. Just gonna get these vegetables in anyway and then I’ll come out and join in the par-tay myself.”

“Thankyou, sweetheart. I’ll come and turn the meat in an hour, so you won’t have to worry about that, okay?” I called over my shoulder, forced to twist at a near obscene angle as Hancock lead me determinedly from the room, chiding all the while that I needed to ‘let it go’. Well, sorry if I didn’t think that it was acceptable to lump Deacon with the remainder of the work. Besides, the bugger might have taken credit for _everything_ if I stayed away too long and that just wouldn’t do at all.

I sighed as I gulped from my wine, allowing myself to be chauffeured over to the sitting area where our friends had made themselves firmly at home. Nick, Piper, Cait, MacCready and Travis had all bundled themselves onto one of the larger circular tables the Dugout Inn had at its disposal; their chairs forced to jut out at irregular angles like a crooked set of teeth, just to make enough room for everyone. This was of course some time before we had met Curie and only two months in fact after Cait had joined up with us. Codsworth seemed to have been given the role of waiter for the evening and was busily transporting drinks to and from the bar, which I can’t imagine that he minded; given how ruthlessly dedicated he was to providing service. Dogmeat was now curled up on the chair that was set between MacCready and Travis, which, judging from the apocalyptic look that Hancock shot him, had been the Ghoul’s seat originally. Hey, guess we know who the Alpha of the pack actually was.

Travis stood up when he saw me coming and I was relieved to see how natural his smile looked; now that it was devoid of that once signature trembling of his chin. He was a pleasant looking young man; with large hazel eyes, ruffled brown hair and a spattering of light stubble that might have passed for a five o’clock shadow in the right light. Though his frame was quite slender, he had broad shoulders and a sort of bawdiness to his chest which seemed to have been entirely out of touch with this once retiring chap; who didn’t look as though he knew _how_ to do a push up, let alone enough of them to get himself in the kind of shape he now clearly had.

It was reassuring to see, because in the past, Travis hadn’t always looked so content, nor so healthy. Often I had seen him mooching around Diamond City, with the kind of hunched, self-conscious poise a person exhibits when they really don’t want to be noticed and or singled out. Not to mention that he always appeared to be functioning under an ever present and irrepressible exhaustion; his skin sallow, with thick downturned lines around his mouth and dark shadows that passed under equally tired looking eyes. He held himself differently now; which actually changed his entire appearance for the better. He looked poised and confident and somehow far more attractive than he had ever been. Travis had always been cute, I thought, in his timid, insecure kind of way but now he possessed an air of quiet self-assuredness which seemed to bolster and flesh out his features so that he might be considered handsome.

“Hey there, Eve.” He said; his voice so smooth you would think he was the richest playboy to have ever walked the lands. Goodness me, I could only pray this young man never became aware of how seductive he sounded these days, or there wouldn’t be a pair of panties able to remain affixed to a woman’s hips within a ten mile radius. “How are you doing?”

I smiled as I loosened my hand from Hancock’s elbow and stepped forward to bring my arms around Travis’s shoulders. “I’m doing well, thankyou darling. And I gotta tell ya; someone’s sounding _very_ saucy on the radio these days.”

I had a lot of time for Travis, who acted as Diamond City’s resident disc jockey and the Commonwealth’s most well renowned radio ‘celebrity’. How he had ever gotten the job in the first place is anyone’s guess and I say this with only the kindest of intentions, because Travis was, with all due respect, one of the most shy and insecure people I had ever met. And this is even taking myself into consideration. Poor boy could barely string two words together and if it was a woman he was speaking to, that number was divided by half.

This had all changed dramatically however, when Vadim talked me into helping improve Travis’s confidence through a number of staged scenario’s designed to force him into ‘manning up’. Ironically, this landed Vadim in a whole tonne of hot water and then Travis had _really_ been forced to step up. The genuineness of this scenario, coupled with Travis’s realization that he was truly capable of immense bravery, made a changed man of him. The shy, gibbering young lad that had been so afraid to speak on the radio, let alone straighten his spine in the presence of another person, was gone forever. In his place, stood this urbane, clever and assertive gentleman; who capably regaled the masses of the Commonwealth with wit, verve and smooth music.

Travis chuckled and waved his hand modestly. “Come on Eve, you’ll go and make me blush. I’ll say this much; life’s gotten a lot more interesting these past few months.”

“That’s for fucking sure,” Cait drawled from across the table, smirking over the lip of her whisky glass. Her eyes were hanging on Travis like a cat watching a bouncing bauble that was being dangled tantalizingly just above its nose. “You don’t even _sound_ like the same cobber I remember bein’ on the radio. Far too sexy, I reckon.”

Once upon a time, this sort of comment would have sent Travis reeling all the way back to his studio, so that he could hide his burning face under five thick winter blankets. Now, he looked only the slightest bit bashful and I was delighted to see him turn and actually flash a receptive smile in Cait’s direction. Good God, the kid must have taken a crash course in being cool overnight.

“Hey… I don’t know about all that.” He said humbly, kneeling to pick up his beer and take a smooth, even sip from it. His hands didn’t so much as quiver, which suggested how completely in control of his nerves he was. Shit, he was starting to give Hancock a run for his caps. “But I can’t say that I mind hearing it from a lady as lovely as you.”

Piper lost a little of her drink over her chin and most of us exchanged uncertain glances at Travis’s assessment of Cait as ‘lovely’. And a ‘lady’, at that. She was an attractive woman beyond doubt; sexy, in a way that men would certainly notice and find desirable but she wasn’t especially delicate or amiable. Though she had softened considerably during our travels together, Cait was a very sharp tongued individual, who said what she liked and didn’t care whether you took to it or not. Although Piper really didn’t have much room to judge, given that she herself was predisposed to ladling out the hot, heaping offerings of her inner most assumptions without invitation but she did have _some_ boundaries in place. Restrictions that Cait had never been able to construct in her own mind, and as such, served to make her a little… um… crass at times. Accusing me of staring at her ass while we had been traveling together being one that I remembered very clearly. Well, to be fair, I _had_ been staring at her ass but that’s because the fucking thing defied all laws of physics and I was genuinely trying to discern whether it could make even the slightest jiggle when she moved. One shouldn’t be accused of being a perve when they are simply taking genuine scientific interest.

Even Cait herself looked a little taken aback by Travis’s compliment; I can’t imagine that she had this sort of praise directed at her very often. I think the poor girl was a little lost as to how to reply but she rallied her defences into place almost as quickly as they had fallen and that self-assured little smirk snapped defensively back over her lips.

“Listen to this one, would ya? Keep up that talk and ya may not have to buy me as many drinks as me usual asking price.”

“Come on now Cait, don’t tease him.” Nick drawled, giving her a slow, slightly stern look over the clipboard that he was reading from. Judging from the few that were stacked up on the desk in front of him, I gathered that he had decided to catch up on work whilst keeping an eye on the rest of us. Which probably wasn’t a bad idea, given the amount of empty bottles that were already bordering the paperwork.

“Who’s teasing?” Cait chirped back, flashing Travis a suggestive little smile as she took another, deliberately provocative sip from her whiskey. I noticed Scarlett, the waitress of the Dugout Inn, glancing over at Travis, seeming a bit put out by his exchange with Cait. I shouldn’t have taken any pleasure in this but I didn’t think it would hurt her to think about what she had tossed aside when she gave Travis the cold shoulder earlier that year. Seeing another woman take interest in him might serve her well.

MacCready didn’t look especially pleased either, though he was trying to maintain a façade of nonchalance, whilst tearing the label from his beer bottle with the kind of vindictiveness most people might show the bastard who manhandled their mother. I’d long had the suspicion that MacCready had gotten a little sweet on Cait, though I don’t think he was entirely aware of this himself; perhaps only that he was strangely annoyed when she flirted with other men. Like me, MacCready was still dealing with the loss of his spouse and moving on was something that you did with your mind, even if your body had other ideas. He may have found himself developing an attraction for Cait but the idea of actually trying to be with someone else might have been a little jarring. I could certainly appreciate this.

I smiled at Travis, giving him a pat on the back of the shoulder. “Don’t let her scare you, Travis. Cait thinks that anyone with a pulse is fair game.” Cait winked at me in response to this and waved her arms from side to side as though conceding to my point. “By the by, you’re welcome to join us for dinner if you like.”

“Are you sure?” Travis asked, tilting his head to the side and giving me a stern look that I had never ever seen him pull off before. It was as though he were trying to admonish me for going out of my way for him and it actually made me feel a little flustered. Goodness gracious, this boy was going to get _me_ in trouble if he didn’t tone down those pheromones of his. “I don’t want you and Deacon spending all night in the kitchen just to accommodate me.”

“You should not be so reluctant to accept, Travis!” Came a loud booming voice from right beside my ear, which startled me so much that I sent wine slopping up over the sides of my glass and down onto my hand. I barely had time to recover before I felt Vadim’s brawny arm thump itself over my shoulders and draw me into the massive wall of his chest. “It is rare these days to have good home cooked meal. Especially when it is prepared by someone like beautiful Vault Dweller.”

I tried to play it cool as I sucked spilt wine off of the ends of my fingers but I could still feel my face going red. I wasn’t all that accustomed to receiving compliments from men other than my husband and Vadim had a way of just bursting out with whatever he was thinking without much thought to the consequences. I wasn’t sure whether his blunt honesty was refreshing so much as it was confronting but I guess it was flattering all the same. And generous.

“You wanna run and tell Doc Crocker that, because I don’t think he’s quite so convinced as you,” I stated, flashing a little smile to demonstrate that I wasn’t genuinely concerned by the surgeon’s earlier comments.

Vadim still pulled a face in response. “Ah, that Doc Crocker is idiot! Wouldn’t know beautiful woman if it came up and bit him in the _zhopa._ Which would be more attention than he deserves, mind you!”

“Vadim’s right,” Piper said, frowning thoughtfully from behind her raised beer. Piper wasn’t what you would call a hard drinker, so it only took her a few beers before she started to feel the effects. Which only made her all the more upfront and unreserved in her opinions, so you can just imagine the sort of things she came out with when she was drunk. “Doc Crocker’s gotta try and make people second guess themselves, otherwise he wouldn’t have a job at the end of the day. Try not to take it personally, Blue.”

“Exactly. Don’t let the bastards get you down.” Hancock added, giving me a supportive wink as he shooed Dogmeat out of his seat and plonked down, popping the cap from a fresh bottle of beer. I noticed that there were already a few empties on the table in front of him and a squat glass with a little amber liquid culminated in the base. Jesus, he was far out in front of the herd and without anything to line his stomach either.

“Oi, you might wanna think about slowing down there a little, Drunk Skunk.” I scolded, waggling the tip of my finger in his direction. “You haven’t had anything to eat yet, it might start going to your head.”

“Oh, pish tosh.” Hancock snorted dismissively, leaning back in his chair so that the front legs came up off of the ground. Every muscle in my body locked, expecting to see him go ass over backwards onto the floor but he managed against all odds to keep himself balanced. “I got enough experience holding my liquor. It’s the rest of this lot you should be worrying about.”

It was true that in all the time I had known Hancock, I had never seen him lose control whilst drinking or using Chems. I myself had vomited once or twice when I’d gone overboard, same with some of the others but Hancock had always managed to keep chuffing along regardless of how much he had imbibed. I wasn’t certain whether his tolerance was just naturally high or whether being a Ghoul might have affected the rate at which his body processed alcohol.

“Nevertheless,” I said, ignoring the slightly annoyed look that he flashed in my direction. “It wouldn’t hurt if we had something to snack on until dinner is ready, right? Soak up a little bit of that grog. Vadim?” I asked, turning my head side long and leaning back slightly when I saw how close his face was to mine. Goodness gracious, the fellow could probably count my eyelashes from this distance. “Um, could I trouble you for a couple of boxes of crisps or something?”

“For you? Of course, is no problem.” Vadim replied, grinning as he turned to shout over both our shoulders, not so much as loosening his arm from around me in the process. “YEFIM!! Bring snacks to table for our friends! On the house!!”

“No, no, no, not on the house!” I insisted, digging my hand into my pocket and rustling for any caps I might have had on me. I wasn’t exactly trying to play it noble but I didn’t think it was especially smart practice to start accumulating debts with people all over the Commonwealth. God knows what might have been expected in return down the track. “I’ll pay you for them, I might just need to go and get the caps out of my bag is all.”

“You will do no such thing!” Vadim insisted, reaching up with the hand that was around my shoulder to pet me on the cheek. He wasn’t exactly a delicate touch and my eye flinched shut for a second from the force of the affectionately intended gesture. “We have not forgotten what you have done for us and our friend Travis. And as you are feeding us tonight, least we can do is shout you a snack or two, yes?”

“Come on, Blue. It’s not like we get much for free out in the Wastes,” Piper insisted as Yefim grudgingly deposited a box of Fancy Lads Snack cakes, two canisters of Potato crisps and some Yum Yum devilled eggs onto the table in front of her. She pounced immediately onto the snack cakes and ripped the side off in a clean swoop, yanking out the plastic container inside and prying out one of the little cakes. “Might as well enjoy it while it lasts, huh?”

“Hey um, not to look a gift horse in the mouth but I can’t eat these,” MacCready said, looking troubled as he pointed to the box of Yum Yum Devilled eggs. “Not if ya wanna share a room with me safely tonight.”

“Well, no one is forcing you to eat them, MacCready.” Nick grumbled, looking increasingly weary for someone who wasn’t actually required to sleep. I gathered that he was reading over something that he found troubling, because his brows were cinched in tightly over his luminous yellow eyes.

“Everything okay?” I called over, taking another sip from my wine before placing it down on the table and picking up one of the potato crisp canisters. Nick glanced up and I saw the mechanics through the hole in the side of his face grind about so that his expression formed into a more relaxed countenance. His pale lips rose into a small, conciliating smile.

“Oh… everything’s just fine, Evelyn. Just got a bit of catching up to do.” He said, tapping the back of his robotic hand against the papers as though reprimanding them for their existence.

I felt a little pang of guilt strike the cords in my chest; painfully aware of the sacrifices that each of these amazing people had made in order to support me in my search for Shaun. They were each here of their own volition, even Cait who had been somehow forcibly coerced by her previous contract holder Tommy Lonegan but I still couldn’t help but feel as though I were keeping them from their collective responsibilities at times.

“Darl, you know if there’s anything I can do to help I’d be happy to lend a hand,” I offered, twisting the top off of the canister and waggling it under Hancock’s nose cavity in the most enticing manner I could manage. He stared up at me, unimpressed. “It’s going to take some months before the teleporter is ready, so if there’s stuff that needs doing…”

Nick glanced off to the side; looking to be in an agony of indecision. He was indisputably kind and very accustomed to lessening other people’s burdens, so he often found it difficult to accept help. Even when it was blatantly offered.

Finally, he said, “Well this _may_ be something that would require a bit of extra support from everyone. Tell you what,” He stated, placing the clipboard paper side down onto the table. “Let’s take a look at it together tomorrow. You all need a chance to rest up and refuel.”

“I hear you. And in that vein, have a fucking chip,” I growled, reaching into the canister and extracting one of the little saddle shaped crisps, pushing it towards Hancock’s mouth. The Ghoul typically scrunched his face up as though I were trying to force feed him swamp silt.

“I don’t want a fucking chip,” He snapped, being stubborn simply for the sake of being stubborn, I imagine. You gotta love that no matter how old a man gets, they can still behave like a petulant little boy when they don’t want to do something.

“Just eat the chip; it’s yummy.” I growled back, pushing the chip closer.

“Take your chip and shove it,” Hancock said, pretending to spit on the chip as it drifted under his nasal cavity. I bit back a snort of laughter, knowing that he was just playing with me now but I still wanted him to take things a little seriously when it came to his own health. Something he could be a little flippant about at the best of times.

“Jesus, I bet you were a fucking brat of a kid that refused to eat and then threw his braised carrots all over the floor.” I said, putting the chip to my own mouth and taking a bite. They didn’t have a huge deal of flavour, these Post-war crisps but they had a little bit of salt on them, which I liked. “No wonder your Dad smashed eggs on your head.”

“Well, if bad Ghoul will not eat crisp, then _I_ will have it,” Vadim said, smirking as he plucked the chip out my fingers and moved it towards his lips. As expected, Hancock immediately leapt to his feet and snatched the crisp away and threw it into his own mouth.

“I don’t want it, but I don’t want _you_ to have it.” He said, chomping the chip with such vehemence that we all burst out laughing. I’m not sure if Vadim had intended for this little ploy of reverse psychology to actually work, but I was hardly surprised that it had. Hancock did have a good sense of humour but he never liked to look as though he was being genuinely ungracious.

When everyone had stopped laughing, Vadim hefted a very theatrical sigh and patted my shoulder like a commiserating soldier in a long war. “It is tiring, the things that you must put up with, poor little _lapochka_. One day, I will sweep you off your feet and take you away from all this madness.”

This, I will admit, did genuinely fluster me. As it so happened, Vadim was just the sort of man who I had traditionally found myself attracted to in my previous life. He was built almost like an old world Grid-Iron player; thick jawed, sturdy and with hair that he kept buzzed close to his skull. Handsome and appealing in an irrefutably masculine way. He reminded me a great deal of Nate; same wide barrel shaped chest, bawdy features and an irrepressibly cheerful smile.

The idea of being married to anyone else though, let alone ‘dating’ or whatever its equivalent was in this topsy turvey future, was as inconceivable to me as rocketing to the moon in an easy chair. The fact that I continued to wear my wedding band was proof enough that I still considered myself to be a married woman and no doubt would for some time to come.

As of that particularly visit to Diamond City, Nate had been deceased barely nine months and the only thing that kept me from completely falling apart over his death, was that my brain refused to accept it. I was locked in a state of shock; numb to the emotional distress I might otherwise have felt. It was a means of keeping me alive, I suppose and with my focus being squarely set on Shaun and the Institute, I didn’t really have the luxury of simply falling apart.

It was the nights that were hardest, I found. When I had no choice but to slow down and to let my thoughts and emotions catch up. Sometimes it felt as though these despairing sensations pursued me across the Wasteland as a true, sentient force, which, when catching me, wouldn’t hesitate to leap up and take gaping bites from my mind and heart. With each attack, I felt my tenuous grasp of control slip further through my fingers, as I struggled instead to bring the jagged, tender scraps of my sanity back into some semblance of order so that I could carry on.

I had started to resent the falling of the night and the stringent limitations of my own body; both prevented me from simply steaming ahead without pause, so that I might against all odds, prevent the silence through which the grief and the loss speared through. It was impossible to avoid, especially given the painful fact that I had not slept alone for seven years and had now been forced to grow accustomed to doing so. When the grief welled up in the night, the desire to be held, to be comforted escalated to such a considerable degree that it translated to physical pain and wrenched a hold within my chest that pinched my lungs closed and thrust choking fingers into the base of my throat. There were others around me and had been for some time but I had no right to resort to their mercy as a means to ease my moments of weakness. To do what needed to be done in this world, I had no choice but to strengthen my fundamentally weak and spoilt constitution; if by taking in and fully absorbing these painful doses of emotional toxin, then so be it.

The others thought that I was strong and often congratulated me on how well I was doing but they were completely wrong in their assumption of my moral character. Cowardly people are capable of all manner of things when there is proper incentive. Shaun was my son and I had failed him as a mother. I was a weak woman; consumed by inescapable insecurities and blistering resentment. And now with Nate gone, I had no option but to step up, man up and do what I had failed at doing so far. Being a parent.

At Vadim’s words, I actually felt my throat close over and my mouth threatened to yank down into a miserable little curve. I didn’t want the others to see me become upset, especially since we all so desperately needed a night free from drama, so I drenched up some strength from my inner reserves and fed it into my face, pulling my lips into a smile and blinking quickly to force back the tears that had threatened to well up.

“Well, marrying a bar owner would probably save me a shit ton of caps,” I said, thinking to make a light hearted joke about the situation. “You might just be a potential forerunner if I do decide to take up the marital shackles again one day. Unless I can charm Whitechapel Charlie into taking me on, that is.”

There was a screeching sound from behind me; the sound of chair legs scraping across the floor and then Hancock was staring up at me with a look that seemed to suggest that I had been disloyal in some way.

“I think you’ll find that _I’m_ the one who owns the Third Rail; not Whitechapel Chuck.” He said, quirking up one of his brow ridges into a near perfect question mark. “So if you’re wanting to hook your little claws into a bar, Munch, I’m afraid it’d have to be _me_ you take on.” He gave me a coy little smirk now as he leant back in his chair and set to work, rolling together a joint for himself. “Though I do come free with an entire town and all the benefits that come part in parcel with running it.”

I chuckled, wondering as I did whether Hancock might have been getting the slightest bit jealous of Vadim’s bumbling attentions. It was hard to say, because no one ever really flirted with me except for the chaps in the immediate group (and Cait, whenever she wanted to make me uncomfortable) and this was completely harmless. Hancock never seemed particularly bothered by the other guys making overtures (He often encouraged Cait, as a matter of fact) but this may well have been because we all knew that it wasn’t serious, I don’t know. Hancock and I may have been as close as people can be without marrying each other but we were still friends at days close. I suspected sometimes that he might have liked for there to have been something more but I think he himself felt hamstrung by both his condition and the complexities of my situation. I don’t know. No matter how close you are to someone, this is not the sort of conversation that you have casually and easily.

He seemed to respect that my position was difficult and like Nick, he never acted in a way that would make a person’s life more difficult then it needed to be. Which was one of the things that had warmed me to him in the first place. Whilst some people only got to see the tough, unshakeable side to Hancock, I had understood from very early in the piece that he was a man who strived to always act with integrity; where and if possible.

I sipped once more at my wine, enjoying the lazy place that the liquor had taken my brain to. My anxieties were starting to lessen in turn as well, which was such a feeling of relief for both my mind and body. I offered Hancock a little wink and tilted the wine glass in his direction.

“Well, looks as though _you_ might just have shot to the front of the pack,” I said, my smile widening as he made a little pump of his fist as though celebrating a victory. “Though I’d probably only end up drinking all of your profits away, so you might want to rethink about whether I’d be a good marital investment.”

“You would be excellent marital investment,” Vadim said decisively, helping himself to another chip from the canister in my hand. I’m surprised Hancock didn’t snatch this one off of him also. “You are good cook, good brave woman and you are… how you say? Easy on the eye, eh? Be good investment for business.” He laughed out loud so suddenly that it gave me a fright and I was forced to turn my head to avoid being sprayed with the crisp shrapnel that exploded out of his mouth. “Though I think perhaps it is not good business to enter into love triangle with my new business partner! How is Bobrov Moonshine selling in Goodneighbor, my friend?” He asked, clapping one of his enormous hands on Hancock’s shoulder and just about dislocating it in the process, I imagined. “Judging from what profits we have received, I take it that business is going well?”

Some months back, on a previous visit to the Dugout Inn, Hancock had approached Vadim about selling his patented liquor recipe out of The Third Rail in Goodneighbor. To this day I’m uncertain as to whether Vadim agreed because he was initially intimidated by Hancock or whether he genuinely thought it was a good idea. It seemed that he was benefitting from the arrangement now however, though no one should have been surprised that a new type of liquor would go off like a shot in Goodneighbor.

“You kidding?” Hancock said, reaching down to pick some flakes of Chark off of his thigh, which had come loose from his rollie when Vadim had rocked him about. “Since we started selling that stuff, we’ve had three drifters holed up in Doc Amari’s basement, getting their stomachs pumped. You bet your ass it’s going well.”

Vadim chuckled contentedly, popping the last of the chip that he had been eating into his mouth. “Ha! I suppose not everyone has stomach for Bobrov’s Best. Perhaps I come visit Goodneighbor one day and teach folks there how to drink, eh? Speaking of which, I had best be getting back behind bar. Drinks do not serve themselves, I don’t think. You let me know when dinner is ready, eh _lapochka?_ ” He rounded this off by giving me a hearty slap to the rump, which was so forceful it actually sent me tumbling forward, right onto Hancock’s lap. Vadim didn’t appear to have noticed just how much destruction he had caused and returned to the bar, laughing heartily to himself as he went.

“Mum? Are you quite all right?!” Codsworth called, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

I took a moment to collect myself and realized, humorously enough, that I had managed to keep my glass out of harms way when I had fallen. I had unconsciously shot my arm forward, glancing over Hancock’s thigh so that the glass hit neither him, nor the table. There hadn’t been much wine in the base of it so none had managed to spill out, which was another minor feat attributed in no small part to my many years perfecting flagrant alcoholism.

“I’m fine. I didn’t spill any.” I called out, which wrought an appreciative chortle from the others.

“Jesus boss, you might wanna learn some self-control,” MacCready joked, leaning out of his chair so that I could see the little wink that he offered me. “At least wait until you’re behind closed doors before ya go shovin’ your face into Hancock’s pants.”

I chuckled at this, though my face actually wasn’t anywhere near Hancock’s groin but hanging over the far side of his thigh. It was my belly that was mashed up against his thighs but as Deacon was so fond of saying, why let the truth get in the way of a good story?

“Well, you know how randy Mama gets when she’s I’m on the sauce,” I said, affecting a stereotypical redneck drawl as I slapped Hancock in the side of the thigh. Unsurprisingly, his leg felt firm beneath the wall of his trousers and I wondered if there was anyone in the entire Commonwealth besides me who had an inch of fat on them. “And not that I mind being draped all on you like a super villains cat but ya mind givin’ me a boost back onto my pins, darl?”

I felt Hancock’s arm on my lower back, helping to support me as his free hand clenched my upper arm. He hadn’t laughed at what I had said and sure enough, when he had helped me climb back to my feet, he looked as far from finding the situation funny as was humanly possible. Or Ghoulishly possible, I suppose. His mouth had disappeared into that nearly invisible thin line which I knew precipitated anger.

“You want me to have a word with him?” He asked and I flinched at how pissed off he actually sounded. Hancock didn’t have ‘words’ with people, so much as he curb stomped them like a rabid mole rat. He seemed to be under the impression that Vadim had bestowed some manner of unforgivable slur on me and whilst I didn’t much like the fact that I was probably going to be wearing a chopping board sized red handprint on my ass for the foreseeable future, I didn’t think it required the sort of physical sanctioning which Hancock clearly felt it warranted.

“No, no, it’s okay.” I said, giving a little laugh as I rubbed my backside in an offhanded sort of way. “It’s just a bottom; nothing worth sweating all that alcohol out over.”

“Besides, be a bit hypocritical, wouldn’t it, Hancock?” MacCready said, now nursing what looked like a half glass of straight scotch against the wall of his chest. Maybe he figured that something stronger would help him deal with Cait and Travis’s flirting. “I’ve seen _you_ slap Evie on the ass before. Why is it okay for you and not for old Vadim?”

Hancock frowned back at him. “Because we’ve known each other longer and we’re friends, that’s why. Besides, she smacks my ass just as much as I smack hers.”

It was true; we _had_ gotten into a weird habit of doing that. Surprisingly enough, I never considered it to be sexual and I’m almost certain that Hancock felt the same way as I did. It was kind of like… sports players, congratulating each other after scoring a goal or winning a particularly gruelling game. Having been married for seven years also, I had gotten use to Nate patting my bottom or giving it a smack here and there and this for the majority of the time did not devolve into rampant, horny bunny humping. Hancock and I had gotten close in the time we had spent together and so we had naturally developed this comfortable rapport that was not unlike that of a long term married couple. Who didn’t have sex anymore and slept in separate beds.

Plus, Hancock did had a rather fetching little bottom, so I didn’t mind having a chance to put my hand to it occasionally. Hey, just because you haven’t bought the car, doesn’t mean you can’t run your hand over the bodywork occasionally, right? So long as there was prior consent on the matter and I hadn’t heard any complaints from Hancock thus far.

“It’s true. I give as good as I get.” I said, which Hancock thoughtfully confirmed by giving me a far gentler pat on the backside than Vadim had bestowed. He then slicked the sides of his rollie together, reminding me that I was well overdue for a smoke myself. “Hey, if you’re going out for a chuff, I’ll join ya in a minute.”

“What’s keeping ya?” Hancock asked, looking a little annoyed as he topped my wine glass back up. He always overdid it, slopping wine in until it just about tippled over the edges and onto the table. I was forced to lean over and put my lips to the rim, slucking in a big mouthful of the wine in order to lower the liquid’s surface. When I was certain that I could pick it up without spilling everywhere, I did so.

“Dogmeat’s due for his feed,” I continued, looking over at the German’s Shepherd’s despondent little face as he whined, pawing at the top of the sofa and wriggling his backside impatiently. Not that this was much different to how the human men behaved when they wanted to be fed. Although Dogmeat probably drooled less.

“Well, I’ll do that.” Hancock volunteered, climbing to his feet with a much steadier gait than I would have thought possible for him at this stage. “Guessing you put a tin of food for him in the kitchen or something, right? Or is his majesty going to be eating up at the table with us tonight?”

I shook my head, gesturing towards the kitchen with the hand that wasn’t holding my glass. “Don’t think he’d take to the sauce somehow, darling. There’s a mixture I made up for him on the stove, I just need to heat up. Some minced meat, an egg and a handful of dried biscuits.”

“What, no parsley?” MacCready cracked and as the others laughed, I decided not to mention that I had in fact thrown some herbs into the mix to help put some shine in Dogmeat’s coat. I knew that the guys thought I was weird for the amount of attention I paid Dogmeat but I had been raised around animals and had always loved taking care of them; especially dogs. I had been devastated when Nate and I had lost our dog, Mitchell, a bare month before the bombs had fallen. He had been a pound rescue dog, five years old when we had bought him and small and curly haired. Part-spaniel, part… something they had never been able to figure out. I had loved that dog. I’d cried for weeks after he went missing. We usually kept him inside during the day, since Nate was off in service and I was working at the time and we didn’t want to risk him slipping through the fence. On this day however, someone had broken into the house and they had left the door open after making off with some of my jewellery, the record player and the small amount of cash we kept in a jar by the refrigerator. I don’t know if they had taken Mitchell or if he had just gotten scared and run off into the woods but he most certainly wasn’t there when I got home. That dog had been my best friend and my constant companion whilst Nate was serving overseas.

Jesus, that took me back… I remember searching the surrounding woodland with some of the people from the Neighborhood. Xavier had pitched in as well and he had only just moved in two months prior and was kept religiously busy with his job at Vault Tech. They had been good people to have stepped up like that. Suppose they just didn’t want to feel responsible for letting a big fat pregnant woman go blundering about in the woods in the middle of the night.

“It’s all right, boss. Doggy wait service comin’ right up,” I heard Deacon call and sure enough, there he came traipsing out of the kitchen with Dogmeat’s food bowl in hand, steam rising from the contents. Dogmeat rose to his feet, padding at the sofa cushions, dribble congealing on the corners of his mouth at a phenomenal rate. Yefim was giving me a look from over by the motel entryway, so I gestured to Deacon to take the bowl outside.

“Thanks, dude.” I said, smiling as he whisked past with Dogmeat trotting alongside eagerly, staring up at the food with palpable anticipation. Hancock smiled as he watched them go and then poked the joint he had just rolled into his jacket pocket.

“And now, your time is yours again. A good thing as well, seeing as how they’re playing our song.” He held out one hand towards me, using the other to tip the foremost peak of his hat like a high class gentleman. “Ya wanna show these Diamond city types how it’s done, Munch?”

I flashed a smile back in return as I placed my wine glass down and reached out, slipping my fingers into his waiting palm. Vadim had the radio switched on over at the counter and sure enough, the song ‘AC-Cent-Tchu-Ate the positive’ had started playing. This song held some special significance for Hancock and I, being the first song that we had danced to and only shortly after we had gotten to know one another. I’d been in a pretty terrible place at that time and he had been trying to cheer me up by getting me to enjoy myself. It had helped a lot; though all the drinks hadn’t hurt either.

“Let’s cut a rug.” I replied and followed Hancock over to an empty stretch of floor just to the left hand side of the bar. I kept my right hand folded neatly around his, placing my left against his upper shoulder and raising my elbow slightly. I felt his spare hand slide into my lower back and then lift, so that it rested just below my shoulder blade. We kept a few inches of space between us; just enough so that we didn’t look too friendly but close enough so that he was able to guide me. I could feel the warmth of his hand through my shirt and I found myself enjoying the closeness that always came when we shared a dance together. It made me wonder whether it was the dance itself that I enjoyed, or the fact that it gave me an excuse to feel the touch of another person. Something that I missed and craved so dreadfully.

“Ready?” He asked and I jolted a little, realizing that I had been just standing there, staring up into his face without saying anything for a good few moments there. I guess it said something about how far I had come; that I was able to look at him now without being distracted by the reality of his missing nose or the deep scars that ran through his face like rain water cutting lines along a clay bank. I had been thinking only of his warmth and closeness and the peaceful little feeling I had when we shared these moments together.

I felt embarrassed all of a sudden and somehow guilty, as though I had been caught doing something terribly wrong. I gave myself a mental shake and wrenched my smile back into place, hoping once more that my makeup might have saved me from giving away the blush that might otherwise have betrayed my true feelings.

“As the day I was popped out.” I said and waited to feel the gentle sway of his body guide me into taking my first step, following in his lead as he steered me into a very basic waltz.

I love dancing. Well, dancing with a partner that is. Freestyle really isn’t my thing as I’m way too unco and have no confidence in trying to improvise anything that I haven’t already learned ahead of time. The only reason I enjoy dancing with a partner is because I had been forced to learn on account of Nate being in the army. There were a lot of functions I had attended on his arm and most of them involved the soldiers getting up to dance with their partners at some point. With so many eyes on me and with such high expectations in the armed forces, I hadn’t wanted to seem unsupportive of Nate, or worse, embarrass him with my natural, inherent clumsiness. So I took myself off to a few classes to learn a couple of basic dance styles. Waltz, fox-trot, that sort of thing. Just about everyone in my generation knew how to swing dance without being taught; after all, Jazz was the most popular music of the time and even the little bit of rock and roll we got worked well with this style.

It _had_ surprised me that Hancock enjoyed a dance, given the type of person that he was. I mean, he didn’t go and tear up the dance floor or anything, but he didn’t mind leading someone around for a few songs here and there. He had a kind of natural rhythm; the type that some folks are just born with. Not to mention that his posture made him almost entirely suited for dancing, with his strong shoulders and the neat line from his upper back to his waist.

“Well, I didn’t line up this play through of terrific songs for nothing,” I heard Travis say, and took a quick glance over as Hancock turned me, catching the DJ extending his hand towards Cait. “Miss Cait; will you do this lonely kid the honor of a dance?”

I almost expected Cait to laugh at him or to shriek something equally indignant as a means to bust his chops but she did neither of these things. Instead, she gave a little backward roll of her eyes as though she were being greatly imposed upon but smiled still as she plopped her hand ungainly down into his own.

“Yeah, all right then, handsome.” She said and with my next rotatio, I caught sight of Travis leading her towards us; effectively turning our little corner of the Dugout Inn into a makeshift dance floor. I wondered whether Yefim would get annoyed that we were in effect, blocking much of the entryway into the motel area but when I glanced over, he was smiling a little from his usual spot against the wall, tapping the toe of his shoe along to the music. Vadim actually turned the radio up when he saw us start dancing and started then to sing along with such passion you would have thought that he was participating in a karaoke competition where the first prize was an all-expenses paid trip to Bora-Bora.

Not everyone was so pleased to see us take to the dance floor, however. Scarlett looked extremely despondent now and I actually felt a little guilty in taking delight in her being uncomfortable earlier. Clearly she wasn’t quite as over Travis as she may otherwise have thought. Or perhaps seeing him with someone as striking as Cait only made her wonder what might have been on offer there that she herself had missed the first time around. In any event, she had started sweeping the far side of the bar with such vigorous motions that I feared she might light the floor on fire if she didn’t slow down. I guess she wanted to just finish up and get out of there sooner rather than later. MacCready was tipping his scotch glass back perhaps just that smidgen too high, looking for all intents and purposes like he was trying to suck out the very lost drop of liquid from the base of the glass. It reeked of someone who was desperate to try and dull what they were feeling and this above all made me feel terribly sad.

The other patrons didn’t seem to mind Travis and Cait so much, but they certainly didn’t approve of Hancock and I. The amount of pursed lips, narrowed eyes and shaking heads was proof enough of their feelings on the matter. Whilst this sort of discriminatory attitude pissed me off to the extreme, Hancock adversely took extreme pleasure in it; flashing big, charming smiles in the direction of his would be detractors as he dipped, whipped and twirled me about the dance floor in a flagrant display of ‘screw the haters’. I always admired how he never let the petty attitudes of others get to him; let alone those people who were openly rude and hostile. I wished that I could be as brave as he was.

Not that I was any different when it came to those individuals who looked down their own noses at Hancock; or any Ghoul for that matter. And so, like Hancock, I played into the game just as much as he did, smiling and winking at the disgusted patrons as we continued our dance. I even cupped my hand over his backside at one point, which earned so many shocked expressions that they looked for all intents and purposes like a line-up of those ceramic sideshow clowns you drop a ball into the mouth of. When the song changed, drifting into the more sombre and romantic tones of ‘Into each life some rain must fall’, I felt Hancock’s fingers ghost down my back once more to light against my hip.

“Maybe a little closer for this one?” He said softly, waiting until I gave a nod of consent before he drew me up against him. My face was now so close to his chest that I got another unintentional whiff of his cologne up my nose. “And do try and keep your hands to yourself this time, Munch. I know my ass is banging and all but I don’t want these good folks thinking I’m some kind of common floozy.”

I laughed a little at this but found myself distracted. My heart had started to thump that tiny bit harder in my chest as I felt his warmth alight down the front of my body; my hip bones pressed to just below his own, the knot of his sash digging into me so that I squirmed. He noticed my discomfort and reached down to twist it off centre, allowing our groins to pull flush to one another’s. Then his hand returned to my lower back and stayed there. Because of the change in his posture, I had to adjust my left arm and so I looped it around his own, resting the palm of my hand into his upper back. It felt smooth and strong, the muscles flexing as he rolled his shoulders and a little jolt of shock went through me as something stirred, historical yet not unforgotten in the near centre of my being.

 _Dear God, what am I doing?_ I thought to myself, knowing full well just what was going on, yet so certain I could not be feeling what I was feeling. That tightness in my groin, that little tingling as my nerve endings starting to light up and pay attention. The ‘thump-thump-thump’ of my heart, striking the wall of my chest like a long confined prisoner, smashing their foot against the door that held them captive. Looks like MacCready wasn’t the only one battling with a disobedient body this evening.

It hadn’t been the first time I had felt this way around Hancock either. I thought it might have passed; that with the deepening of our friendship, these little physical allures might fail to hold any particular significance with my heart and mind. The more platonic the relationship, the more likely it was that I would instead see him without any of these romantic nuances attached.

I thought that it had worked, until we came to moments like this. When we were close, or alone or… vulnerable. I wondered if it might be in part because I was so completely unguarded when it came to him; some horrible little part of myself had assumed early on that because he was a Ghoul, we were never likely to be together or have a physical relationship of the sort. But this was completely idiotic, as proven by the number of Smoothskin women who I had seen speaking with Hancock; those who he had either been with in the past or wanted to be with him in the near future. It had only confirmed what I had always known to be true about him; that he was a sexualized individual, who, in spite of his condition, had a lot more partners than many would have thought possible.

I knew that I needed to do something, or say something but my tongue had locked in my mouth and it was honestly kind of a relief, because I wasn’t sure what I might otherwise have said if it had been loose to just flap about unhindered. We were moving now anyway, drifting slowly across the improvised dance floor with as little resolve as a plank of wood meandering across the rippling tides of a stilled sea; purposeless and yet peaceful. I wasn’t certain I should look at Hancock until I got my emotions under control, so I turned my gaze over towards Cait and Travis, who had their arms around one another in a style that would not be uncommon at a high school dance. Cait hadn’t even bothered to put her drink down before joining Travis and the glass was poised just behind his head, no doubt being lowered with regularity towards Cait’s waiting mouth. They looked like they were having fun though; they were smiling and chatting away, occasionally bursting into fits of conspiring laughter that made me smile in turn. It was nice to see the two of them enjoying each other’s company; MacCready’s struggles notwithstanding. Cait found it difficult to trust men at the best of times and Travis used to be so afraid of women that he just about melted through the floor when faced with one.

Nick and Piper had since joined us as well; looking more like a father chaperoning his daughter at a formal event. They were talking as they danced however, hopefully discussing something more relaxing than the usual politics of Diamond City and the dreary, typically misery drenched cases that were poor Nick’s lot to drudge through. Deacon had returned from feeding Dogmeat and was perched up at the table with MacCready; shooting the breeze with both him and Codsworth about goodness knows what, as they swapped out the ever increasing amount of bottles for a pitcher of beer and some clean glasses instead. Being as switched on as he was, I imagine Deacon was doing his utmost to provide MacCready with some sort of distraction and as usual, had no short supply of things with which to keep a person occupied.

It occurred to me then, just what a wonderful night this was. To see these people who I had been travelling with in such a different light; a more relaxed, carefree setting, with only good things to look forward to. The thought buoyed my spirits and all my worrying about whatever was going on between Hancock and I, seemed suddenly irrelevant and stupid. I raised my chin and gave him a big smile, which he returned with a wink alongside as vested interest. He gave me another little dip and I kicked one of my legs up, pointing my toe comically and then dropping my head and upper body back as much as I could, so that I was staring at a number of the disapproving patrons from upside down. I giggled and loosened my grip on Hancock’s hand to wriggle my fingers at them. Apparently, this was too much for their delicate sensibilities to handle because they shot out of their seats as though something had bitten them through the leather cushions and they lit on out of the bar in a disgusted huff.

“Oh my… I hope we didn’t offend them,” I said, with mock concern as Hancock lifted me back up into a vertical position, bringing my foot down against the floor in the process. He was chuckling cheerfully as we continued dancing, sidestepping Travis and Cait who looked for the world as though they had no idea that they were sharing the floor with anyone else at that moment.

“Probably got an image in their heads of us busting out the springboards in the back room later and went home to vomit,” Hancock replied cheerfully, raising his hand to slap me a celebratory high five. Nick heard us and gave a small shake of his head.

“Can’t take the two of you anywhere.” He scolded, though he smiled with a degree of fondness as he said it. Nick had known Hancock for some years and they shared a rapport not unlike that of a responsible big brother tiredly watching over the exploits of a misbehaving sibling. Hancock chuckled a little as he rotated me gently about, flashing Nick a look that plainly said he ought to expect nothing less.

Having thinned out the more discerning members of Diamond City’s populace, the remaining dregs proved to be a far more accommodating crowd and the night continued to improve from that point on. Following a very hearty and reportedly enjoyable dinner, (Which Deacon announced by banging on a pot with a large wooden spoon) I was able to finally take a load off and relax, with Codsworth near descending into the robotic equivalent of a nervous breakdown if he wasn’t permitted to support me with the cleaning of the dishes. We were joined at the table by Hawthorne; a vivacious young man who spent most of his life alternating between mercenary work and exploring. What time he had left between these exploits, he spent telling others about them. He was a fascinating person and someone you could sit and listen to for hours without needing to interject a word yourself.

His arrival at the table seemed to have sparked off a conversation about scars and who amongst us actually had the worst. Nick put us all into stitches immediately by pointing out the various holes in his face and neck, insisting that there couldn’t be a greater scar than the sort that the wind might whistle through on a gusty day. The regulations were thusly changed to exclude the natural degenerative effects of synthetic skin and the scars wrought through the process of Ghoulification.

I thought I might have been in the running with the scar on my chin and I demonstrated how deep the wound actually was by taking up a spare toothpick and sliding the end of it down into the welt. About half of it disappeared into the naturally healed crevice and Piper immediately turned her head away and yelled ‘Jesus Blue, _seriously?!’_ The boys seemed to think that this was a terrific trick and made me hold the toothpick there while they tried to stick various pieces of snack food to the end of it. Then Cait tried to eat the food from it, which sent Piper scurrying out the front on the pretence of a ‘smoke break’.

I told the story about how I had received the wound; how a Raider in Concord had opened me up clear to the bone with a switchblade not a day after I had clawed my way out of the Vault. It wasn’t a particularly fond memory and I suppose I might have toddled myself off to Doc Crocker to have it seen to if it really bothered me but the scar was as much a part of myself now as was the color of my eyes. It told its own story about what I had survived and had shaped me into the person who had been able to persist for as long as I had in this crazy world. I suppose it was strange to suggest that I might have been proud of such a disfigurement but that was really the only word that adequately summed it up. Bloody thing was a nightmare to work around with concealer, however. If any leaked inside it looked like a muddy little creek bed.

Hawthorne went next, lifting up the back of his shirt to show a great sweeping crescent moon that arched from around his ribcage to the jutting bones of his shoulder blades. It gleamed almost iridescent white against his dark skin and I imagined from the shape of the injury itself, that most of his skin must have come away from the muscle in a big, horrible slab. He went on to tell us that he had acquired it from a Deathclaw, which had barrelled up behind him during a mission he had undertaken in the Capital Wasteland. He reckoned that he might not have survived if it hadn’t been for the coincidental arrival of a travelling Doctor, whose caravan guards were able to slay the Deathclaw whilst he attended to Hawthorne’s wounds.

MacCready went to the next extreme by whipping off his coat and rolling up his sleeve to show us his right upper arm. A scar ringed his entire bicep, with only the smallest amount of flesh untouched between the two points. A Mirelurk, he said, had burst from a pipe beside him during a previous mission with the Gunners and latched its claw around his gun arm. The force that it had exerted on him in the attack, severed most of the flesh, muscle and arteries, snapping the bone but failing to sever through entirely. One of the guys he had been working with had managed to shoot it in the face, sending it reeling backward and loosening its grip on MacCready in the process. They had been close enough to a town for him to see a Doctor but it had been touch and go there for a while, with the suggestion floated more than once that it would have been wise to amputate the arm. MacCready had refused and it was through sheer determination and a potent mixture of Stimpak’s and antibiotics that he was finally able to heal up.

“Still have some trouble with it some days,” He explained, working the arm back and forth with what I could now see was with a degree of difficulty. “Especially when it’s cold, it feels like the muscle stretches too tight or something. And I never got the feeling back in my pinky and ring finger.”

“’No big loss. Fella doesn’t need to bring _them_ into play often,” Hancock said suggestively and it took me a minute to get what he was saying before it clicked. I pulled a face as I swatted the back of my hand against his arm.

“You mind your tongue, bad boy.” I scolded, which in hindsight might have been the wrong choice of words, because the fellas all started cajoling and carrying on in the expected childish fashion. Piper was only two steps away from the table before she whistled to Dogmeat and took him out for a toilet break. Girl wasn’t dainty by any stretch of the imagination but arriving back into the room to hear the guys making jokes about cunnilingus, taxed the aesthete in even the hardiest of souls. I might have gone as well but this sort of talk was certainly nothing new to me; not after spending so many weekends hanging out with Nate’s army buddies after a barbeque. Jesus, now _those_ were some dudes who could talk filth.

Cait clearly had a dirtier mind than me and she was cackling away, smacking the table with her hand and rocking to the side so that she bumped shoulders with Travis who was laughing in that reposed, lips pressed together sort of manner a person has when they are trying to keep control of themselves. At least _he_ was being a gentleman. Deacon, MacCready, Hancock and Hawthorne on the other hand, had devolved into larrikins, high fiving each other and making all sorts of jokes at one another’s expense and no doubt, at the expense of every woman they had ever been with. Nick looked as though he was slowly losing the will to live and in spite of not needing to smoke, was ruffling desperately in his trench coat pocket for the pack of cigarettes he seemed convinced must have been hiding in there somewhere. I was just waiting for him to start saying ‘beep, beep, _beep_ ’ at any moment and then combust like a premature Super Mutant suicider, taking the whole bar out with him in the process.

“I have terrific scar that I got from Mirelurk,” came Vadim’s voice from behind and I turned, only to be met with a whole face full of broad, hairy muscular chest, with a nipple damn near poking my eye out. Cait whooped and spun her fist in the air like she was three martini’s down at a Hens night and the stripper had just walked in. It took me a moment to collect myself and realize that Vadim was pointing to a long, jagged scar that ran down almost the entire length of his chest. “Here. Beast surged from the depths whilst I was… how you say, enjoying the nature in way God intended?”

“Yeah, yeah, we know.” Hawthorne drawled, looking bored as he took up what had to be about the third pitcher from the table and topped up all the empty beer glasses. Cait had switched to beer at some point and I seemed to be the only one determinedly sticking with my wine, not wanting to mix my bevvies and end up completely fucking myself over. “You were skinny dipping in some unknown location for whatever the hell reason possessed you and a Mirelurk rose up and tried to make merry with you. You can only blame yourself for getting buck naked out in the wild, Vadim.”

Vadim looked a little huffy as he tugged his shirt back down and tucked it in. Cait and I both said ‘Awww’ in unison, which earnt us an unimpressed look from the men at the table. Hey, it was a good chest and as my mother always said, no harm in looking.

“Mirelurk did not ‘make merry’ with me! It was a vicious, unprovoked and very manly attack that I fought off with my bare hands!” Vadim insisted, raising both fists and scrunching them from side to side as though strangling an invisible perpetrator. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he had been able to do such a thing, being as large and seemingly powerful as he was but a Mirelurk’s armour like shell was as close to bullet resistant as nature permitted. Looks like Deacon wasn’t the only one who liked to embellish his tall tales.

“Yeah well, I got so many scars I wouldn’t even know where to start,” Cait drawled, picking up her now brimming beer glass and bringing it to her mouth where she took in about a quarter of the contents in one gulp. When she lowered the glass, her upper lip bore a bubbly white moustache that she quickly flicked out of existence with her tongue. If that didn’t get at least half the men at the table stiff, then I would eat my own face. “Got a ripper on one of me tits though. One of me earlier fights in the ring. Bitch smuggled a knife in, thought she’d put me down right there and then. Dug it in real good and tight, see?”

To my absolutely amazement, Cait proceeded then to unclasp the top two buttons of her corset top, bringing them apart so that the near majority of her breasts were on show. Her nipples were only kept out of sight for the shear fact that she hadn’t peeled the halves of the top all the way back. She leaned forward, keeping a hold of the corset and indicating with her chin down towards her left breast. We all leaned forward for a closer look, with the exception of Nick who merely glanced down as a means of being polite I suppose, before he continued searching for his cigarettes.

If the girl had been trying to stab Cait in the heart, she had badly misaligned her angle and I thought that it had been lucky she hadn’t shaved the poor girls breast off entirely. The thick red scar was located directly in the highest and firmest peak of Cait’s boob, just two inches above the nipple. It made me wince to think of what might have happened if the knife had entered her any lower. Poor darling. Being stabbed at all, let alone in the breast must have been awful. Yet, out of all the things Cait had told me about her past, being stabbed in the tit was probably one of the least horrendous things to have transpired. Which suggested something in and of itself as to how ghastly this dear girls life had been.

“Jesus, I don’t envy you much, Red.” Hancock said, echoing my thoughts as he sank back in his chair and swigged from his glass. I felt a little relieved that he hadn’t continued staring down her top as some of the other fella’s were so obviously doing. Not that I minded him having done it in the first place; I mean, he was a dude after all. Jesus Christ, _I_ had damn near poked my nose into her cleavage and I was a straight woman.

“Lucky it didn’t kill you, sweetheart.” I agreed, raising my wine glass to my lips and finding only a thick droplet remaining in the bottom. Ever on the ball, Hancock routinely plucked up the bottle and poured me another round. I was starting to feel a little heavy behind the eyes and the edges of the room had taken on that tell-tale blur which let me know beyond doubt that the wine was doing its’ job. My eyes weren’t always the best; I’d had reading glasses over two hundred years ago and I had often resorted to these late of an evening when my vision tired. I’d never been able to find a pair that matched my eyes in the Commonwealth and had sort of just conceded defeat, letting the weariness steal over me when it saw fit to do so. The drink of course only made things worse.

“The fact that someone could do something like that…” Travis was saying and I looked over to see him shaking his head slowly, his eyes still focused on the scar on Cait’s breast. He didn’t stare with the intent of a hormone addled idiot however, but with a sweet sort of concern, underscored by a thin current of anger. “I know shit like this happens all the time out there… but still… I mean, what makes someone think that they have the right to do that to another human being? What kind of asshole thinks they can just _stab_ someone?”

“I agree with you, kiddo. Unfortunately, they’re a little thick on the ground these days,” Hancock commiserated, though he looked toward Travis with a very approving expression. Like a proud father whose kid had finally learnt to fight back after years of being bullied on the school bus.

“They walk among us,” MacCready agreed, settling back into his seat having taken a rather belaboured examination of Cait’s breast and concluding that there was indeed a scar there, just as she had claimed. “Hey, and if anyone can beat a stab wound to the Mammary’s, then I suggest they step up right now because I’m thinking that’s gonna be hard to top.”

“Well, I’ve got a corker on my ass,” Hancock said, climbing to his feet and tugging apart the knot in his American flag sash to a round of horrified protests. Piper had returned to the table at this point and looked as though she sincerely regretted her timing. Without any available excuse to leave again however, she resigned herself to the fate the conversations had in store and started quaffing back her beer vigorously, as though this might dampen some of the pain she might otherwise experience.

“Jesus, just… tell us how it happened, you don’t need to show us!” MacCready yelled, holding up both hands over his eyes as he twisted away from Hancock, who had only gotten so far as untying the flag.

“Relax Mac. It’s probably just some lurid sex story about him getting strapped with a swatter or something,” I said, smiling sweetly at Hancock as he flashed me a shocked look and sank back down into his seat, retying his sash as he did.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Piper added and now Hancock turned towards her, looking for all the world as though he was being unfairly judged. “Maybe MacCready can just save us some time and tell us _his_ version of events.”

This set the whole table to laughing again, though MacCready didn’t seem to find it particularly funny, especially when Hancock reached across, rubbed the back of his fingers over his shoulder and whispered, “I think they’re onto us, babe.”

“Oh man. Nope, nope, _nope._ ” MacCready groaned, waving both hands around dismissively and then wiping off his shoulder as though ridding himself of the mere presence of Hancock. “That shit ain’t funny anymore. Like I told you guys; _he_ was the one who spooned _me._ Okay? I was an innocent bystander who was taken advantage of.”

“Oh bullshit. You loved it.” Hancock said, smirking as he shot back another mouthful of beer. “Backed that sweet little ass of yours right up on me. Usually gotta pay someone to be _that_ eager but you are just full of surprises, pretty boy.”

“Seriously man, _-eff you_.” MacCready said, but he was trying not to laugh as he said it, which wasn’t helped by the rest of us all completely losing our shit. That had been one of the funniest mornings I can ever remember; waking up to find Hancock and MacCready pretty much wrapped around one another, as tight as batter holds to a corndog. It hadn’t surprised me that Hancock had latched on to the nearest warm thing; he didn’t hold up well in the cold, what with the sensitive condition of his skin and usually ended up rolling about the place looking for something to warm himself on. Usually, the two of us would sleep back to back so we could share some warmth or Dogmeat would occasionally concede to draping himself over Hancock and giving him a bit of communal body heat. But for whatever reason, that night, he and MacCready had found each other. It was kind of beautiful really.

“God, I hate seeing such a lovely young couple fight,” I said sadly, shaking my head and patting Hancock’s arm as though sympathizing with his situation. He played into it, sighing and looking upward at the ceiling with a dejected expression on his face.

“How quickly does passion turn to hate,” Nick added and I was glad to see him joining in on the conversation, though I knew that this sort of carry on was hardly his cup of tea.

“Okay, for one; we’re not a couple. And two; I’m the only one of us who’s young. I mean, who the heck knows how old Hancock actually is? I’ve seen pictures of mummy’s they dug out of ancient Egypt who had a smoother complexion than him!” MacCready shot back, causing Hancock to pull a face and plop his beer down onto the table as though preparing to spin and launch himself at the man beside him.

“Well, I’d sure like to hear what you say about me when I’m _not_ around!” He snapped, picking up a stray chip that had dropped onto the table earlier, crumpling it in his fist and then hurling the shards directly into MacCready’s face. “And I’m forty-fucking-six, you cheeky turd.”

“Yeah. Forty-six _hundred._ ” MacCready murmured in a stage whisper, wiping chip crumbs from down the front of his jacket. Hancock spun on him with a raised fist as though fully intending to punch him but MacCready vaulted out of his seat and scuttled quickly away. “Hey, take it easy there, grandpa. Wouldn’t want you to go busting your colostomy bag or anything.”

Now Hancock was out of his seat and would have taken off after MacCready if I hadn’t reached over at the last moment and grabbed the cord on the back of his jacket. As it was, he dragged my chair across the floor behind him for a good foot or two before turning and giving my arm a swat.

“Get out of it Munch, ‘bout time the kid got an ass whoopin’.” He said, shooting MacCready a churlish look across the table. The mercenary didn’t so much as bat an eyelash, perching himself and his beer on the table opposite before raising his glass in a cheery salute.

“Remember you promised you were going to behave yourself.” I cautioned, letting go of Hancock’s coat and grabbing the edge of his pants pocket, pulling him back towards his seat. “Now… why don’t you finish telling us the story about how you got the scar on your ass?”

“Was it in a Chariot race?” Deacon suggested, unable to hide his smirk as I was now forced to redouble my efforts in keeping Hancock restrained. I finally managed to drag him back down into his seat and I shoved his beer into his hands, pointing between it and his face so that he got the hint.

“I’ll sit my big ass on you if you don’t damn well behave yourself,” I warned, watching his eyebrows quirk upward as he slugged back another gulp from his beer glass. “And not in a good way… in a… digging my tailbone into your upper thigh so that you lose all feeling in your leg, way. Now, tell us this story about your scar.”

Vadim clapped his hands together supportively. “Yes, yes. Pray tell, what manner of terrifying creature did you encounter that gave you such dreadful injury to the _zhopa,_ friend?”

“My mom,” Hancock said and we all bust for laughing from the serious way in which he said it. “Oh, you all laugh but that’s because you don’t know her. Let me paint a picture for you.” He raised his spare hand and arched it through the air in front of his face, as though basting invisible paint upon an unseen canvas. “Ten year old John Hancock; caving to the pressures of modern society, finds himself partaking of his very first cigarette. Having the reckless exuberance of youth and possessing not one wit of his elder selves learned ways, the boy perhaps might have done well to have partaken of this vice in a place other than his own back porch.” Hancock smiled a little, hoisting his glass and taking another sip before continuing. “Ma and Pa were out at the time but came back much earlier than I had anticipated. Naturally, neither was particularly pleased, with my mother carrying on as though she had lit up on me injecting Med-X into my tear ducts with a blood caked needle I found in a dead junkies hand.”

We all chuckled at this, though I honestly empathized with the poor woman whose job it had been to try and wrangle in a young, hormonally disturbed John Hancock. If there was a contest as to who deserved to be canonized in this day and age, I’m convinced she would be a strong contender.

Hancock continued, an affectionate little smile twisting up the corner of his mouth. “So there she is, swooning and weeping and Pop’s just standing there, shaking his head at the two of us, not saying anything. Mom finally rounds up and tells me in no uncertain terms to put the durry out. And because I was an obnoxious little shithead, I say ‘There’s still half left!’ Now she’s stamping her foot at me and starts shrieking like a fucking tea kettle for me to get rid of it. And that’s when I say, ‘You want me to just _waste_ those ten caps I took out of your purse to pay for it?’”

We all drew our breaths in collectively and winced at the nerve that ten year old Hancock had. As usual, not much surprised me when it came to him. He was a much more laid back and chilled out individual now but you could easily tell that he would have been a cheeky little asshole when he was younger and more than a handful for any parent to deal with. I already had the feeling that I was going to be siding with his mother over whatever had occurred next.

Hancock nodded in agreement, his own eyes widening slightly as though sharing in our shock. “I know, right? I was a proper little horror back in the day. Anyhow, Mom gets this look on her face that I ain’t never seen before. Figure it must be her that I got my temper from because next thing I know, she’s snapped the antenna off of the top of the radio and she’s whipping the fucking thing at me like there’s no tomorrow. Needless to say, I flung that cigarette into the water and I took off like the clappers; my groin was probably an inch off of the ground.” He emulated someone running with a far reaching stride, arms stretching up and around as though windmilling through the air. “And wouldn’t you know it; she’s after me. She cleared the fucking jetty in about two seconds and hurdled over about three Tato plants in one bound. She threw three at me that she somehow managed to scoop up while she’s running and I’m slipping and sliding all over the bloody things, trying not to fall and let her catch up. I’d managed to clear about two circuits of Diamond City before she wised up and cut directly through the centre stalls. Next thing you know, I hear this fucking big ‘CRACK’!” He demonstrated by slapping the table hard, which might have made me jump if I wasn’t already creased up with laughter. “Jesus; I thought for a second that I’d knocked over a pot of boiling water and it had splashed all over my ass. I’m guessing it must have been the angle she got me at because it opened a gash across both cheeks about half an inch deep. Cut right through my pants and everything. My legs went out from underneath me and everything and I’m lying there, curled up like a dying Molerat, bawling my eyes out. She felt so damn bad _she_ starts crying now and no one has a fucking clue what to do until Pop rounds up and sorts it all out. Still got the scar, big diagonal white slash right across the middle. Worst wound I ever got and it was my Mom done gave it to me.” He chuckled to himself, a tender expression taking precedence in his face and it was clear that he held no malice towards his mother for this in the slightest, but looked back on the memory with a degree of fondness.

Piper had been in the midst of freshening her beer but she had paused at some point in Hancock’s story and was staring at him with one brow quirked in interest. At length, she placed her glass back down and said; “Hold on a minute… you said you ran about ‘two circuits around _Diamond City’_ … did you actually live here when you were a kid?”

With a jolt, I suddenly realized that Hancock had let this slip in the course of telling his story. He always got a bit loose with the lips when he had been drinking. Not that it was some big secret, I supposed but so far as I was aware, I was the only member of the group who knew about Hancock’s past. He wasn’t exactly keen for people to know all the sordid details about his history, so I hadn’t mentioned it to the others out of respect for his privacy. Trust Piper to still be switched on enough after roughly five hundred beers to pick up on it.

Before Hancock had a chance to reply, Travis turned to Piper and gave her a look as though he thought her a bit remiss. “What, you of all people didn’t know that, Piper? He lived here until he was thirty-five. He was a McDonough back then. John McDonough.”

Now it was everyone’s turn to look shocked and I winced inwardly, praying that Hancock wasn’t going to get all pissed off with Travis and take him outside for a good kneecapping. Instead, he sighed and tilted his head towards the boy, smiling in a tired, accepting way.

“Thanks for that, kid.” He drawled, leaning back in his chair and reaching into his pocket for the rollie that he had prepared earlier. “Might not have wanted that to be front page news of little Miss Reporter’s paper tomorrow morning but I suppose I should be grateful you haven’t let it slip over the radio yet.”

Travis expression fell to one of concern and he glanced over at Hancock with genuine unease. “I’m sorry. Was it… supposed to be some big secret?” He asked, glancing around at the rest of us for confirmation.

“It wasn’t a secret so much as it was private, dear.” I said softly, rubbing the back of Hancock’s shoulder in what I hoped was a soothing fashion. He didn’t seem to be particularly upset but then Hancock wasn’t the type to relinquish his self-control and throw big unseemly tantrums. “John just… didn’t feel that it was necessary for everyone to know his business, that’s all.”

“Clearly he felt that it was necessary for _you_ to know, boss. Given how you seem to be _in_ the know how regarding it,” Deacon said, lowering his glasses just enough so that I could see the little twinkle in his eyes as he returned my gaze. I can’t imagine that this little aspect of Hancock’s past had been news to him; after all, the guy had been around the traps a long time and was as proficient a spy as they come.

“Oh my God… you must be related to Mayor McDonough then!” Piper exclaimed, looking for all the world as though she could barely restrain herself from snatching up the nearest napkin and scrawling down the details with the jammy end of a snack cake.

“He’s my older brother,” Hancock confirmed, taking the last little gulp of beer from his glass. His mouth screwed up as though there had been a bad taste curdling in the remaining dregs. “And if we’re including emotional scars in our earlier competition, I should think that being related in any way to that lard head should put me well out in front.”

“There must be a bit of an age gap,” MacCready said, looking wide eyed and thoughtful on his perch opposite us. “Mayor McDonough’s like, what, sixty or something?”

“He’s not as old as he looks,” Hancock said, shaking his head as he slid his empty glass back across the table. His face had slumped down into that expressionless poise between places that was as much an indicator of his sadness as another’s man’s open tears might have been. “Just seven years difference between him and me… don’t know how stressful running this joint can be, but it’s fucking aged him ahead of time. Pop was the same; he looked about ten years older than he actually was. Guess it’s a good thing I took after Mom.” He placed the palm of his hand to his cheek sardonically, which finally wrought a little laugh from the group. I guess everyone was worried that he might flip and start hurling glasses all over the place. They didn’t give him enough credit.

Cait gave a little laugh as she hoisted her pint back to her lips. “Well, ain’t that somethin? The two biggest settlements in the Commonwealth and they’re both run by the McDonough brothers. You’d almost think there was something sneaky in that.”

Now Hancock _did_ look truly annoyed and his brows came down low over his eyes. “Well, it’s an ungracious thought, at best. And Goodneighbor isn’t run by a McDonough, it’s run by a John Hancock. The only things that McDonough and I have in common are our fathers’ chin and that we came out of the same gash.” He grumbled a little as he searched in his pockets for a box of matches, adding offhand, “Not that I felt the need to add an entire family of chins underneath my own but that’s what happens when you sit on your fat ass in your office all day, shoving noodles in your big, blubbery gob.”

“Tell me about it. I think the only reason the guy leaves his office is to pontificate on stage and refresh his noodle supply,” Piper said and I could barely hide the look of shock on my face to hear her actually commiserating with Hancock over something. Most often she referred to him as ‘her second least favourite mayor’ and devoted much of her time to being frosty and aloof in his presence. Guess there’s something to be said for shared animosity.

“Hey, how did _you_ know that Hancock used to live here, handsome?” Cait asked, glancing up at Travis curiously. He flashed a quick look at Hancock, who simply waved his hand uncaringly back in response.

“Well, the McDonough’s and I used to be neighbors.” He said, smiling softly as though he were reflecting back on enjoyable memories. “I was raised right in the shack next door. Our families would get together all the time for barbecues. John also used to babysit me when I was a little tacker.”

“I wasn’t very good,” Hancock admitted, tipping his head to the side as though truly embarrassed. Travis only laughed.

“Nah, you were all right. Although Mom said that you did put a diaper on me inside out, once.”

“Good grief,” Nick exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm. “With the shiny bit on the inside and the absorbent bit on the outside? Would have made a hell of a mess…”

“And then some. Not to mention that when I was about six, he snuck a girl into the shack to keep him ‘company’ when he was supposed to be hanging out with me-”

Hancock cast a furtive, warning glance in Travis’s direction as he struggled up out of his seat, groaning all the while like an old man fumbling to escape a beanbag. “Come on, kid. I don’t think you need to be telling everyone _that_ story.”

“Hey, _you_ put a diaper on me _inside out_. I think I’ve earned the right to embarrass you.”

“Not that this isn’t very interesting and all but doesn’t anyone wanna see _my_ awesome scar?” Deacon interjected, looking hurt that we had gotten completely off topic before he was able to contribute to the earlier discussion.

Piper groaned as she dropped her beer back to the table. “God damn it Deacon, we’ve been over this already. A circumcision does _not_ count as a scar and _no one_ wants to see it!”

“Oh, so it’s okay for Hancock to nearly get his ass out on the table but it’s not okay for me to pull down _my_ pants?” Deacon snapped, frowning with intentionally humorous petulance.

“That’s because Hancock has such a cute little tooshie.” I said, reverting to a cooing, baby like voice as I gave Hancock a few sharp pets on the backside. He smirked in response, looking pleased with the attention and cranked his hip out to the side like a model striking a pose at the end of the catwalk.

“Well, you’re not wrong there, Munch.” He said smugly, reaching down then to offer me his palm. “Now; who’s comin’ on out for a smoke? I’m well overdue.”

“But I’m not even _Jewish!!_ ” Deacon screamed, still hanging onto the conversation long since terminated. Naturally, everyone ignored him.

“You called it,” I said, grabbing my own pack off of the table and then taking a hold of Hancock’s hand so that he could hoist me up onto my feet. Nick, Cait, a still sulking Deacon, Travis and MacCready all followed suit, leaving Piper, Vadim and Hawthorne to shoot the breeze in our absence.

The Dugout Inn had a pretty firm smoking policy; requiring patrons to go outside to at least ten feet away from the door. This was to ensure that people who were eating inside could enjoy their meal without smoke drifting all over the place. Not that I minded going outside to smoke. The conversation took on a whole other dynamic when you formed a little smoking huddle and the cool air helped to sober me up.

The weather had been cold that time of year and we all huddled close together, sharing what warmth we could between our bodies as we lit up and puffed away. Such determined little nicotine inhalers, we were. Cait in particular looked as though she was suffering, and I kept taking each of her hands to rub between my own, alternating so that she was able to raise and lower her smoke. After a while I just gave up and pulled her in sideways for a cuddle, rubbing my hands up and down her arms to try and warm her up. With the exception of Nick, all the boys watched this with way too much interest, which Cait immediately called them out on. Honestly. A girl gives another girl a hug and all the boys perk up as though the next natural evolution is minge munching in the 69 position. If they didn’t start calming down soon, I was tempted to spring for a hooker so they could work off some of that barely suppressed horniness.

It was starting to get late, so following our smoke, we drifted one by one into the bathroom to take a shower and get dressed for bed. It didn’t help the boys hormones much when Cait followed me into the shower room with all her own nighty-night clothes and I could hear them whooping and carrying on as we went. There was no point in responding to any of this of course but if they understood the real reason she had followed me inside, I can’t imagine they would have ever made so much as a peep about it again.

Cait couldn’t shower alone; not without descending into a near hysterical fit that is. I had found out early on when she had first joined up with us; how after three days of clearly not washing herself, she finally approached me and asked, nay _demanded_ that I sit in the settlement shower block with her while she gave herself a scrub.

Naturally, it was a rather unusual request in and of itself but I agreed to do it right away, certain that she would let me know her reasoning if she felt comfortable to do so. Sure enough, while she wrapped herself under the warm spray of the shower, she revealed that when she had been eleven years old, her father had busted in on her in the bathroom and raped her whilst she had been washing herself. It had happened a number of times after this but it was that first initial attack that had tattooed itself into the fear receptors of her mind. Now, if she was ever alone in the bathroom with the shower going, she ended up having panic attacks that were so physically violent and terrifying that they often rendered her near catatonic. Having someone else there, made her feel safe enough to be able to wash in peace. A kind of unconscious awareness that if someone _were_ to bust in, they would have to get past me first.

She admitted that she had waited the three days to see who out of the group she trusted the most to go in with her. If it hadn’t been me, it might instead have been Piper or Codsworth and they had in fact stood in for me on the one or two occasions I hadn’t been available for whatever the reason. As a female, Cait just felt more comfortable with other women. Even robots with a male personality like Codsworth got her a little unnerved; especially being in the very place that she associated so much trauma to.

The Dugout shower room was located in an offshoot just behind the bar area. It wasn’t much; a toilet, sink and a shower bay surrounded with raised tiles and a blue curtain that had surely seen better days. I placed my night clothes down onto the sink, leaving the closed toilet for Cait to sit on and quickly stripped down, bundling my clothes up as neatly as I could before turning the shower on. Piper and MacCready had already been in before me, so the water was still heated thank goodness. I gave it a moment or two just to amp the temperature up slightly before I stepped under the spray, raising my face to the hot stream of water, which was no doubt working quickly to strip my makeup off and away down my cheeks.

“That Travis is kind of a cutie, ain’t he?” Cait commented, bringing her leg up tight to her chest and working to unhook the laces of her brown boots.

“He’s a darling,” I agreed, reaching out to swish the shower curtain around myself. I wasn’t exactly bothered by Cait being present but I still felt the need to behave with _some_ modesty. Especially considering how gorgeous a body she had and how… well, post pregnancy mine was. “One of the nicest, sweetest guys you’re ever likely to come across.”

“I’m thinking I might make him me Diamond City fuck,” Cait said casually and I might have reacted if her statement had in any way surprised me but it hadn’t. I just sighed as I stretched my hand around the curtain, gesturing for her to pass in my shampoo and conditioner.

“Well, you’re both adults.” I stated, wondering just how old Travis actually was even as I said it. Early to mid twenties in the very least. “I’m just not so sure if Travis is the kind of fella that would _do_ casual well. I got the impression that he might be a bit on the inexperienced side. He might get overly attached or something.” I gave a little shrug that she couldn’t see as I felt the two little bottles slip into my palm. “Then again, maybe it’d be the best night of his life and het gets an education. Just make sure you’re both on the same page, so that we don’t have to deal with a broken hearted Travis ‘Even- _more_ -lonely’ Miles on the radio for the next couple of months.”

I heard Cait laugh from behind the curtain. “Oh, he’ll be getting an education, all right. And on that note, you, ah… might not wanna tune in to Diamond City radio for the rest of the night. Unless you wanna hear me getting a… how you call it… shout out?”

I sighed and shook my head in mirth as I started to rub the shampoo into my hair. Cait seemed to be one of those audacious people who operated purely on instinct; doing things simply because she wanted to and it made her feel good. She was a lot like Hancock in this way; so much so that it kind of boggled me as to why they hadn’t ended up in bed together. Although she had intimated in the past that she wasn’t ‘turned on’ to Ghouls, I couldn’t imagine she had any prejudice when it came to the men that she slept with. Or women, apparently.

“So, when are you going to fuck Hancock?” She called out suddenly and I dropped the shampoo in fright, positively spooked out by this coincidental merging of our train of thoughts. I quickly scooped the bottle off of the floor, forgetting that my head was still lathered in foam, which came gushing down all over my face as I submerged my head beneath the spray. Eyes stinging and mouth flooding with suds, I shot upright and scraped my fingers back across my scalp, splattering shampoo all over the far wall in my desperate efforts to clean off my face.

“Hey, you don’t wanna go dropping the soap in there. Vadim’ll come crashing through that wall like a horny Brahmin stag if he thinks there’s a chance yer bent over.” Cait cracked and I heard a thud of what I suppose were her boots hitting the floor as she finally shucked them off.

I groaned as I dashed my fingers back and forth across my eyes, looking down to see them positively coated in black eye makeup. Jesus, speaking _of_ train wrecks…  I slid my hand out around the curtain again and made an urgent, fluttering gesture with it.

“Hand me a face washer would you darl? I’ve got soap and makeup all over the shop.”

“Sure love,” She said and not two seconds later I felt a flutter of raggedy material drop into my palm. I brought the face washer in and started scrubbing hard at my face and eyes, cleaning off as much of the soap and makeup as I was able. “And don’t think you can get out of answering me that easy. I mean, here I am telling you all my wicked intentions, whether you wanna hear ‘em or not. Now I wanna know when _you’re_ planning to get your wet on with our sexy Ghoul.”

“Well… he _is_ sexy.” I agreed, turning the face washer around and using the clean side to wipe off the last of the makeup from my face. At least, I _hoped_ that was the last of it. If I stepped out of the shower with twin black waterfalls down both cheeks, Cait was likely to have more of a field day with me than she did already. “But I certainly don’t have any immediate plans to be getting my… _wet_ on with him.”

Cait ‘hmmmed’ to herself thoughtfully. “Ah, right… so… you thinkin’ maybe that big Vadim fella?”

“I’m not thinking _anyone_.” I said, slightly exasperated as I tossed the used face washer over the top of the shower towards where I estimated Cait was sitting. I heard a wet ‘thwap’ as it made contact and a shriek of ‘cunt!’ so I knew I had found my mark. “All I’m thinking about tonight is having maybe another bottle of wine, a few dances and at best, perhaps a little fully clothed cuddle later on. With Dogmeat. Seems cruel to try and separate Hancock and MacCready.”

Cait burst out laughing with this and hurtled the face washer back in at me. It hit the shower head and swung there, like a limp, bedraggled sail before its weight dragged it sideways and into my waiting hand. “Oh aye, wouldn’t wanna be getting in the middle of _that_ budding romance.” She chuckled and I found myself thinking just how nice it was to hear her laughing and enjoying herself this way. So far as I was aware, she hadn’t even shot up during the evening, which probably also explained why she hadn’t gotten into a bar fight yet. I could only hope that she was managing her withdrawal symptoms responsibly.

This hadn’t been the first time that Cait had broached the subject of Hancock and I potentially becoming lovers. Not that she ‘broached’ a topic so much as hurtled headlong at it like a surly Brahmin at an iron gate. Subtlety did not factor into this girls life in any way shape or form and yet she was surprisingly intuitive when it came to people’s feelings. Sexual feelings predominately. On the day that we had first met, she had actually assumed that Hancock _was_ my partner until I had set her straight. I explained that we operated in a ‘partnership’ during combat situations, which might give off the impression that we were closer than we actually were. She hadn’t been convinced. And subsequently never failed to miss an opportunity to try and push me ever so closer into his metaphorical and literal pants. Girl had done everything but rip our clothes off and bang us together like a couple of dolls.

The thing is… she wasn’t wrong. I might have had a hard time admitting it to myself but I wasn’t such an air-head that I couldn’t cop to the reality of what was transpiring between Hancock and myself. I _had_ thought about him and in a way that was not entirely appropriate between so-called friends and ‘combat partners’. Even then, as I rubbed conditioner into my hair beneath the hot spray of the shower, I could feel that little sprout of curiosity curl out from the seed that Cait had planted in my mind. I approached the image tentatively, as though formulating even the most minimalist of fantasies was to submit entirely to an irreversible and legally binding contract. It wasn’t convoluted or particularly in depth but I visualized what it might feel like to have Hancock there in the shower with me, his hands squeezing my breasts and his lips sucking the side of my neck. A sharp little pitch streaked through my chest and into my gut and my groin tightened so that I was forced to pinch my lips to keep a gasp from escaping. Jesus Christ, _why_ did the thought of it turn me on so much? And more so than that, why then was I fighting back the almost irrepressible temptation to touch myself whilst I continued to think about it?

Well, there was no way in hell that I was doing _that_ with Cait waiting just outside. Wouldn’t that be lovely if she just decided to whip the curtain back for whatever reason? Not to mention that I would be fantasizing over having shower nookie with a man who I considered to be a very dear friend and regardless of how fucking long it had been since I had had an orgasm, I didn’t particularly want to achieve one and then have to continue travelling with Hancock knowing how I had done it. I’d never be able to so much as _look_ at the guy again without feeling embarrassed and dirty.

And so, I finished conditioning my hair and then washed it all out, giving myself a quick, innocent rub down with a bar of soap when I was done. Cait handed me in my razor and I shaved up under my arms and over my legs, giving myself a little nick on the rise of my kneecap in my hast to expedite the process. Ah well, wouldn’t be the death of me, I’m sure.

Squeaky clean and slightly less hairy than before, I turned off the shower and slid back the curtain, stepping out and picking up the towel I had placed on the sink for myself. Cait had already stripped herself down and saw fit to slap me on the backside as she popped into the shower cubicle.

“Heh, you know you actually _do_ have a red mark on your arse.” She laughed, leaving the curtain open as she turned on the shower. She didn’t like to have the curtain in the way, as it prevented her from seeing who might be coming in through the door. “Thought Hancock was gonna rip Vadim a new one for that. Didn’t look happy, did he?”

“No, I suppose he didn’t.” I conceded, scrubbing at my damp hair with the towel before rubbing the threadbare material over the rest of my body. I left my cut leg until last, not wanting to get blood on the fabric and risk spreading it over the rest of my skin. “He knows I’m a pushover though. I think he likes to make sure that I’m not just letting people get away with shit because I can’t be stuffed giving them lip about it.”

Cait glanced back over her shoulder, hair hanging down on either side of her face like a set of bedraggled red curtains. She pulled a face at me, which plainly intimated that I was stupid and blew a raspberry.

“God, you’re a fucking idiot,” She said kindly, turning her face into the spray and raking her fingernails back through her hair with Deathclaw like intensity. “Hard to believe you could spend so many years at school and still be so blimmin’ daft… I’m gonna assume it’s because you’re blonde and leave it at that.”

I could have been a real bitch then and pointed out that she was being even _more_ ignorant than me, having failed to notice or acknowledge MacCready’s feelings towards her but I battered down the childish impulse. Fun as it was to tease and make light of certain things, I didn’t want to go throwing MacCready under the bus, simply to get back at Cait for making fun of me. So I smiled instead and finished drying myself off, folding the towel in half and hanging it from one of the wall hooks to use in the morning.

It was a cold night, so I had fetched out my winter wear night-night clothes, which had so far seen a lot of use out in the Commonwealth wastes. I slipped my underpants back on and stepped into a pair of red plaid pyjama bottoms, which were so long that they came halfway down my feet. Leaving my bra off, I pulled on one of my singlet tops and then threw a long sleeved, black and white sweater over top. I dragged on a pair of socks and then shoved my feet into a cute pair of slippers designed to look like puppy dog faces, which had been a gift from Meyer’s wife when I had last visited Goodneighbor. They were, thus far, the greatest gift that anyone had ever given me. Even greater than my wedding ring, so this was definitely saying something.

I gathered up my bra and other clothes and bundled them all together into a pile that I started to neatly fold as I perched myself on the closed toilet seat. Cait and I chatted to bide the time, with me reminding her to give her hair a wash when she went to turn the taps off after about three minutes of just rubbing some soap under her arms. Girl sometimes got so nervous being in the shower that she tried to get in and out before actually attending to herself properly. Whilst she lathered up her hair, I brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my own unruly locks, thinking it might be high time for a trim. The wavy strands of my bangs were starting to sway over my eyes and this could be both annoying and detrimental when you were hotfooting it around the Wastes. I thought I’d make a time to pop in and see the hairdresser whilst we were in town.

When Cait was finally finished washing, she dressed herself in gray, draw string pyjama pants and a lace trimmed red singlet top, that she threw a long sleeved shirt over. I gave her unruly hair a quick brush, forcing her to remain at the sink so that she would brush her teeth.

“Makes the grog taste like shit,” She grumbled, whipping her toothbrush back and forth across her fangs like an irritable child. I smiled back, thinking that she genuinely looked cute when she got grumpy over something and did my best to flatten down the disorderly cowlick on the crown of her head.

“I know it does, darl but you’re lucky enough to have such a beautiful set of teeth,” I said, using my fingers to tousle the hair at the top of her neck so that the waves would set in a more controlled fashion as it dried. “Not many folks in this day and age can say that. You’ve got to take care of them.”

“What I’ve got of them, that is.” Cait grunted, spitting foam into the sink and then wiping away the streaks that remained in the corners of her lips. I could see sure enough when she opened her mouth that a few of her teeth were missing from the middle sections of her upper and lower jaw.

“Well, at least they’re not right there in the front where they would be most noticeable.” I said, which was perhaps poor sounding consolation but I can’t imagine that Cait particularly cared one way or the other. With the amount that she smoked and drank, it would be difficult to try and keep your teeth even to within a margin of a degree of white but good genetics must have been on her side. Unless of course she drank so much crap that she just bleached her teeth, in which case she was lucky that she was still able to function.

I finished brushing at her hair and gave her a pat on the back of the head. “There. Beautiful as always. That Travis’ll be a lucky boy if you end up getting your wicked way tonight.”

She smiled at her reflection in the mirror; looking entirely self-assured as usual. “Well, I don’t scrub up _too_ bad I guess. Might as well give the big dog a biscuit, ay?”

I sighed and picked up my bundle of clothes from the toilet seat. “Whatever and… _whoever_ you end up doing, just… be safe, all right? ‘Cause I’m sure as shit not gonna help you deliver some squalling love child out in the middle of the Wasteland because you couldn’t be bothered searching for a rubber.”

Cait gave a loud mocking laugh as I passed over her own bundle of clothes that I had folded whilst she’d been in the shower. “Ha! Now _that’d_ be a pregnancy worthy of a frickin’ star in the sky and three wise men haulin’ crap to me bedchamber. ‘Cept for maybe the virgin part.” She winked at me as I looked back in confusion. “Oh shoot, don’t go gettin’ all bent outta shape, Evie. Ain’t nothin’ doin, it’ll all be fine. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

But I couldn’t help but worry nonetheless, even trying as I was to forcibly unwrinkle my brows whilst following Cait back out into the bar area proper. To infer that her getting pregnant would be synonymous with a ‘miracle’, so to speak… It sounded to me as though she thought she wasn’t actually _able_ to get pregnant. If this was indeed the case and it was her own decision than that was one thing. But if the ability to have a child had been taken away from her… well, that was horrendous.

It clearly wasn’t something that she cared to go any deeper into detail over and so I let it go, following her out into the bar and then veering towards the doorway leading to the motel rooms. Wolf whistles and general boyish carry on dogged our journey but we paid it no attention, not until we had packed our clothes away and padded back out to join the festivities. Then of course, I struck a little pose; hands on my hips and pointing one of my puppy-slippered feet forward. Dogmeat immediately tried to latch onto it.

“Looking hot there, Munch.” Hancock said approvingly, whistling from between his teeth as I worked to tug my slipper free from between Dogmeat’s teeth. I glanced up, smiling in acknowledgement but finding myself a little flushed; the image I’d conjured of him squeezing my boobs in the shower flittering back unbidden to the forefront of my mind.

It didn’t help either that whilst Cait and I had been showering, he had taken off his jacket and undone another button on his shirt; all in the pretext of getting comfortable I suppose. The way in which he rested the boot of his right leg up on his opposite knee, whilst leaning back in the chair with his shirt hanging open slightly… Christ, he had it going on. Maybe he was now trying to out-sexy Travis, who had also taken his jacket off and was sitting there somehow being smouldery in his cute adorable way. I glanced around the table, half expecting to see Vadim sitting there with his top off or god forbid, completely naked. I did see a pack of cards sitting on the table, so I could only hope that they hadn’t decided to play strip poker or something. I sucked balls at that game.

“Did you enjoy your shower?” Nick asked, smiling and raising one of his brows in genuine interest. He was the only man at the table who could have asked this question without making it seem lewd and invasive.

“Heh. Wouldn’t _you_ like to know, Valentine?” Cait snipped, strutting over to the table and dropping into her seat with all the grace of a dumped Brahmin carcass. Travis perked up immediately, leaning over to refill her glass.

“Well I’m certain that he is probably not the only one pondering such things,” He said, both eloquently and mysteriously as he passed Cait’s now brimming pint back into her hands. They both shared a conspiring little smile, which honestly made me wonder how some people can just be so in tune with each others intentions. I guess someone like Cait didn’t leave much to be construed but _damn._

“It was lovely, thankyou Nick.” I replied, climbing back to my feet and then padding over to the table. Hancock pushed my seat out and gestured for me to sit, which I did. I was still finding it a little hard to look at him but I smiled anyway, just so he didn’t think I was being a rude asshole. “I’ll say one good thing about Diamond City; the water pressure is hard to beat.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Piper said, nursing her own refill behind her raised knees. She was wearing a long gray dress shirt, coupled with blue pyjama pants that were adorned with a pattern of rocket ships and shooting stars. Her dark black hair was pulled up into a messy bun on the crown of her head, a few tresses curling loose about her temples. “Can’t get all the shampoo out of my hair in the wastes… then it gets all greasy and shit… ugh!”

“Yeah, I guess that _would_ be embarrassing, huh?” Deacon said, smiling consolingly as he climbed out of his seat and turned around, doing a big, over exaggerated stretch towards the ceiling. He was wearing a pair of red long johns, which looked to be about two sizes too small and had a button missing on the bum flap. One whole cheek of his bottom was visible through the gap, which he then brought further attention to by reaching back to scratch it. I had to admit, it was a pretty cute little butt, though I think I might have been the only one who really appreciated the view; given the amount of irritated and or disgusted groans erupting around the table.

“What a lovely little posterior you have there, Deacon.” I said, and I guess I must have been looking at it far longer than I ought to have done because Hancock started laughing and leaned over to whisper in my ear.

“Jesus Christ, you taking a close enough look there, ya big perve?” He chuckled, leaning back as I tried to take a retaliatory swipe at him. All I did was stir up a breeze that shifted his shirt apart even further apart, exposing more of his chest. Oh shit, as if I wasn’t hormonal enough already.

Deacon glanced over his shoulder and adjusted his glasses so that I could see him flashing me a wink. “Guess we all know who’s got the cuter tooshie now, Hancock.” He said, giving his rump a jaunty little swish as he made his way back over to the bar. “I’m gonna pull another round. Need a fresh bottle, boss?”

I checked the wine bottle in the centre of the table and seeing it only had a few dregs remaining in the base, gave a little nod of my head. “That’d be awesome, darl.” I trailed off, wondering why Deacon was bringing in the bevvies and glanced about, looking for where Codsworth might be hiding. I turned to Nick. “Hey… is everything all right with Codsworth?”

Nick gave me a little smile. “He needed to run a few diagnostics, so we insisted he take the rest of the night off. Good a time as any to get it done and I think you’re all grown up enough to pull in your own drinks for the rest of the evening.”

“Well _some_ of us, anyway.” Piper said, tilting her head pointedly in the vague direction of every male exempting Nick and Dogsmeat. MacCready sat up a little straighter in his seat, looking offended.

“Hey, are you trying to say I’m not a grown up?” He snarked and his tone was so childishly indignant that I couldn’t help but snort in response. He turned towards me, looking betrayed. “Gee well, thanks a lot for the support, boss!”

“Well, you know what they say,” Nick said, his yellow eyes twinkling with that little spark that plainly spoke of life interred within his mechanical body. “A woman is born; she goes through childhood, adolescence, life changes, body changes and womanhood. A man is born; he has one finger up his nose and the other hand on his penis. And then he gets taller.”

Piper, Cait and I all bust for this, whilst the people who happened to have penis’s sat there looking completely offended. With the exception of Hancock, who was strangely distracted from the conversation and was glancing off towards the bar. When I went to ask him what was wrong, he held up the palm of his hand and gently shushed me, whispering ‘Hold on a moment.’

I looked over to see Yefim, acting as temporary barman in place of Vadim, speaking with a young man who sounded to be almost yelling. Both men looked increasingly frustrated, with Yefim raising and lowering his hand very slowly from the tabletop in a gesture that plainly requested that the youth slow down and speak clearly. Deacon was already heading back towards us with the drinks that he had ordered but his expression was troubled, and he kept glancing back over his shoulder, sharing Hancock’s concern it seemed.

“Who’s the young chap?” Hancock asked Vadim, keeping his eyes focused on the exchange at the bar as Deacon offloaded the next round and started topping up glasses. Vadim glanced over and waved a hand leisurely, seemingly unconcerned.

“Oh, yes. That is little-daft-O’Conner. Only moved to Diamond City few months ago.”

“Is everything all right?” I asked, biting my bottom lip worriedly as the boy paused in whatever he was trying to say and stood for a good few moments, hands on hips shaking his head at the floor. “He looks kind of…agitated.”

Vadim gave a small, inoffensive chuckle. “Poor Conner. He is… how you say… a little difficult to understand? His words… they don’t make a lot of sense. And that’s coming from me, even! His mother used to do all the talking for him but she passed away a few weeks back. Only one who could understand him.”

“That right?” Hancock said thoughtfully, reaching up to place his finger and thumb on either side of his mouth; an age old gesture of contemplation. He observed for a moment longer, during which time the boys voice got progressively louder. He didn’t sound particularly angry to me, just frustrated and almost tearful in his desire to be understood. It sounded as though he were speaking heavily from the back of his nose, high up in his sinuses and it was true that the words didn’t make a great deal of sense. He started gesticulating urgently with his hands at Yefim, making slower almost deliberate motions to coincide with the noises that he was making but the point just didn’t seem to be getting across.

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Hancock growled, tucking his rollie away with an expression of true irritation. Before I had realized what was going on, he was already striding up to the bar with a purposeful gait I very rarely witnessed. I held out a hand, intending to call him back before he did something unhelpful like smack Yefim behind the head or something but I held my tongue, trusting that he would behave himself.

We all watched as he arrived at Conner’s side and reached over slowly to pat him on the back of the shoulder. The boy jerked around, looking more startled then you would expect someone to be in a bar and stared at Hancock with the expected, somewhat uncertain expression most folks in Diamond City had when being confronted by a Ghoul.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Hancock said slowly, moving his mouth in a very deliberate fashion as he enunciated the words. I noticed that he was holding both hands up to just underneath his own face, where Conner could plainly see them and he was making very deliberate gestures with them as he spoke. “Looked like you might have been having some trouble. Anything I can do to help?”

The boy was no longer staring at Hancock’s face but watching the movements of his hands with a stunned intensity. Suddenly, his eyes shimmered and I thought for a second that he might burst into tears. His lips parted, forming an expression wrought betwixt relief and sorrow and his own hands started flying around so quickly that they turned to blurs.

Hancock held up his own hands and gave his usual gentle smile. “Whoa, whoa. Steady on. You’ll need to take it slow with me.” He said, continuing to make gestures with his hands, though at a much slower rate than Conner was. “Takes me a little longer to understand, yeah?”

I felt stupid for not having realized it sooner. The way the boy had spoken high up out of his sinuses, the desperate motions of his hands… he was deaf. Almost entirely it seemed and most certainly since birth, given the difficulty he had forming words. He had probably never heard his or anyone else’s voices before and as such, it would be near impossible, especially with the world the way it was, for him to have learnt how to communicate in a way that other people could understand.

But someone must have taught him how to sign; his mother perhaps and with her passing, he was now left to the mercy of others to try to interpret his meaning. There must have been a universal form of sign language in use in the Commonwealth, though it was apparent that not a great deal of people were aware of it. Individuals with a disability probably didn’t live for very long in this hard, dangerous world; probably easier prey for immoral dogs like the Raiders and other predators.

I was astonished that Hancock of all people knew sign language. It wouldn’t have surprised me say if Nick or Deacon did; given the nature of their work and all but I couldn’t imagine Hancock devoting the time and energy required to learn this particular skill. Just goes to show that you should never underestimate the depth of a person’s character.

It was clearly a relief for Conner to meet someone who was not only able to understand him but who he was able to understand in turn. His mouth lifted into a smile now and he started moving his hands at a much slower pace, spelling something that was lost on the rest of us. Hancock laughed and started to gesture back.

“My ma was born deaf,” He said, speaking out loud I think for the benefit of everyone else. He gestured to his right ear. “Could hear a tiny bit out of this one but nothing out of this one.” He pointed now to the left. “My Grandma was sick when she was pregnant with her. She learned how to sign and she taught my Ma. And Ma taught the rest of us.”

Conner nodded attentively and then held out both hands, pointing out a number of his fingers here and there and making a few shapes before then making an open handed gesture to Hancock.

“Nice to meet you Conner. My name is John.” Hancock made a few gestures to his own fingers and then waited as Conner repeated them back to him, mouthing the name. “Yeah. You got it. John Hancock.”

As he finished making the signs for his surname, Conner’s eyes widened and he looked a little startled; taking a half step away before signing back furiously. Hancock nodded slowly, continuing to smile as he waited for Conner to finish and then made a few signs of his own.

“That’s right. But I’m sure I’m much nicer than whatever you’ve heard about me.” He said, in response most likely to Conner recognizing him as the Mayor of Goodneighbor. The boy still didn’t look entirely convinced and his eyes scanned the room as though searching for someone to clarify his position. I wasn’t sure how helpful it would be but I wandered over, smiling as I stepped up beside Hancock and rubbed his chest; not dissimilarly to how I would Dogmeat.

“He is. Most of the time anyway. See?” I stated, giving Hancock a squeeze around the shoulders as though putting up with something from me was sufficient proof of his better nature. “He’s a big old pussy cat.”

Conner was watching my mouth move but he looked a little confused still by what I was saying. Sighing, Hancock made the signs with his hands and the boy’s face broke into a smile. He laughed a little, cocking his head inquisitively to the side and then signed something back to Hancock, who laughed in response and shook his head.

“What did he say?” I asked, releasing Hancock’s shoulders. I was almost certain that I had been made fun of in this mostly silent exchange but the boys’ expression was soft and inoffensive.

“He was asking if you were my wife,” Hancock replied, chuckling and then making some signs back which set Conner to laughing. Okay, this was starting to get mean. It reminded me of being back in high school and watching the snotty nosed bitches of the ‘popular group’ whisper to each other whilst staring over at me.

“Are you being mean?” I asked, crossing my arms and tipping my head to the side in what I hoped was a reproachful fashion.

Hancock flashed a smile at me. “No, little miss paranoid. I just told him you weren’t.”

Somehow I got the impression that he had told him a heck of a lot more than just this, given that his hands had made more than just one sign, but I decided to leave it alone. Hancock had now turned his attention back to Conner and was asking what he had been trying to tell Yefim beforehand. The boy made a few signs with his hands, casting a small smile at Yefim, I think to show that there were no hard feelings. Hancock watched carefully, nodding a little and then turned back towards the bar.

“Okay… what the boy was trying to tell you, is that he wanted to order a Gwinnet ‘Pilsner’ not a ‘Pale Ale’.” He explained, reaching into his pocket and extracting a small bag of caps. He passed the entire thing over to Yefim without opening it. “There, grab him a jug of that, would you brother? This should cover his costs for the rest of the night.”

Conner started waving his hands back and forth wildly, tapping Hancock on the shoulder and then making very deliberate striking motions through the air. Hancock waved a hand dismissively at him.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I got tons of caps.” He signed back, smiling in an uncaring and yet somehow modest fashion. It was true he never seemed to want for money much, even whilst travelling around. Though I had seen people approach him at settlements in order to settle debts that they must have owed him, so I gathered this is how he stayed on top between visits back to Goodneighbor. “Is there anything else you need? Food? Pack of fags?”

Conner paused for a moment, his cheeks looking a little red as he opened up the top pocket of his grungy looking shirt and peered inside. Sure enough there was a packet of cigarettes in there and it looked to me as though the boy was seeing how many he had left. Hancock leaned a little closer to take a peek and Conner reflexively stepped backwards. He looked ashamed of himself the second that he had done it and made a few signs with his hands, brows creased down on either side of his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Hancock said, his smile not so much as wavering. “If you haven’t had much contact with Ghouls, it can take some getting used to. Being up close to any ugly old mug like this.”

He ran his fingers underneath his chin and tilted his face up as though framing it for inspection and Conner gave a small, bashful smile.

“You’re allowed to be freaked out by things you ain’t familiar with,” Hancock reassured him, his expression poised and gentle as his hands signed out the affiliated gestures. I felt such a warm stirring of affection for him; how he never let anything like this get to him and did his utmost in fact, to try to assuage the boys feelings rather than his own. “And it’s okay to ask questions. Just don’t forget that under all this ugly ass skin, I ain’t any different to you. Nothing much changes in here,” He indicated with a finger towards his chest. “Even if I do look like a mouldy old Tato that someone fucked in the face and tossed in the campfire.”

As he finished signing this, Conner’s face stretched into a look of shock and he snorted out a laugh that he immediately tried to suppress by covering his mouth with his hand. His shoulders continued to quiver up and down as smothered chuckles rocked his body and Hancock grinned, tapping the knuckle of his index finger against the bar top as Yefim placed the brimming jug of Gwinnet Pilsner down by his elbow.

“Grab the kid a pack of smokes as well, would ya?” He asked, popping down another bag of caps discretely and pushing it far across the bar to where Yefim could easily sweep it out of sight. I was laughing as well from his earlier comment but I wasn’t near distracted enough to miss this exchange. That was far more than a jug of beer and a pack of smokes would run you, even if the boy did continue to drink all night long. I suppose Hancock knew what he was doing; maybe he was even settling the boys cost for a few future sessions. It would be just like him to do something thoughtful like that. Always with a soft spot for the ‘little guy’.

After Yefim had bought over the cigarettes, Hancock plucked up the jug of beer and invited Conner over to join us at the table. He looked a little embarrassed but Hancock simply took him by the elbow and steered him over anyway. I think shyness might have been a foreign concept to Hancock, because he sometimes seemed to forget that other people might feel awkward in social situations. Nonetheless, he started introducing the rest of the group to Conner, signing out everything that was being said so that the boy could integrate fully with the conversation. When he saw Piper, his hands burst into a flurry of activity and Hancock had to slow him down so that he could catch up and translate. Piper watched with a patient smile, waiting to see what exactly was on offer.

“He said that he really enjoys your articles,” Hancock said, his eyes focused very carefully on Conner’s hands. “He thought that your article about McDonough was very… crampy? You mean…” Hancock paused for a second and made a few signs back to Conner, who then repeated some of his earlier motions, though with a little more force. Hancock gave a shrug of consent, as though he had been caught in an error. “Okay… sorry, that was _gutsy_. He thought the article was very ‘gutsy’. He says to ‘keep up the good work’ and that you have a lot more supporters than you think.” Hancock watched the next few signs and a smile formed on his face, which meant that whatever was being conveyed was something that amused him. “He also said that he thought about writing into you once for some advice but then he got embarrassed when he saw how pretty you were.”

Piper went a little bit pink at this but I could see from her smile that she was flattered by the compliment. “Oh my god, that’s so sweet! Can you tell him thankyou but not to hold back if he ever wants to write in to get some advice! It may not be the best advice, but he should never feel like he has to censor himself. That’s what the _Publick Occurrences_ is all about, after all!”

Hancock signed Piper’s words back as she spoke them and now it was Conner who went a little pink. He made an ‘OK’ sign with his fingers, which obviously didn’t require translating and placed his fingertips against his chin and then lowered his hand so that the palm faced upwards.

“He says ‘thankyou.’” Hancock stated, which made Piper look all gooey and weak at the knees. She had such a big heart that girl, even after all the shit she had gone through with the fierce opposition her paper routinely faced, the world still hadn’t hardened her beyond repair. Thank Christ.

Conner was especially excited to have a ‘proper’ conversation with Travis and with Hancock translating, they discussed the changes to Diamond City radio for some time. Conner stated that whilst he was unable to really hear the music, if he turned it up loudly at times he could _feel_ the vibrations from it, which was enjoyable for him. He had seen how Travis seemed to be more confident these days and congratulated him on looking so well. Travis advised him that he was welcome to pop around to the radio station at any time to visit and have a drink, which wrought an enormous smile from Conner and another emotional flurrying of hands. Jesus Christ, how long had it been since this boy had been able to communicate with anyone like this? Judging from his enthusiasm, I suppose the sad answer was; far too long.

After going around everyone at the table, Hancock pulled a spare chair over and plonked it down on his right hand side, encouraging Conner to sit. I bunged down into my own chair and took up my glass, which Deacon had thoughtfully filled before I had returned to the table, and sipped from it.

“So, what’s with the playing cards?” I asked, pointing to the pack which was resting in the centre of the table.

Vadim smirked as he picked them up and shucked the cards out of the box and into his hand. He started to shuffle them as he spoke. “This lot is telling me about fun game you taught them out in Wasteland. I am thinking I want to see for myself what it is like, _lapochka._ ”

I flashed Cait an exasperated look, knowing exactly who it was that might have suggested such a thing. “That would be King’s Cup, Vadim. And it’s more of a drinking game than a card game.”

“Even better!” Vadim boomed, his eyes sparkling like an enthusiastic child. “There is much mischief to be had in drinking game, to be sure!”

“What was wrong with _my_ suggestion?” Deacon said, sticking his bottom lip out in a pronounced pout. Piper rolled her eyes towards him.

“Because _your_ suggestion was ‘spin the bottle’, Deacon. And I don’t think you really thought that one through before you suggested it.”

“Yeah. You failed to consider what might happen if the bottle ends up pointing towards _me._ ” Nick said, raising his brows and smirking in Deacon’s direction.

“Or me.” Hancock added, pursing his lips and making a little ‘mwah-mwah’ sound. Deacon immediately pulled a face and pushed his chair back from the table, as though to escape from the two of them.

“Uh, yeah… that’s a fair point. Forget I said anything.”

“So, how do you play this ‘King’s cup?’” Vadim asked, continuing to shuffle the cards as he talked. I could see Hancock continuing to sign from the corner of my eye, keeping Conner constantly abridged of the conversation going on around him. I marvelled once more at his thoughtfulness.

“I know you need a large cup or jug to put in the middle of the table,” Hawthorne said, frowning thoughtfully over the surface of his beer as his finger tapped the side of the glass. “And obviously everyone needs a full drink to participate.”

“That’s right,” I said, grabbing up one of the empty beer jugs and moving it to the centre of the table. I picked up Nick’s folders and passed them over to him, worried they might get dirty with all the excitement that was about to erupt as a result of the game. He leaned over to tuck them safely under his chair. “Now, we spread the cards face down around the outside of the jug. Each card has a rule assigned to it. I’ll need a piece of paper to write them down for reference.”

While Vadim spread the cards around the table, Nick passed over a spare piece of paper and the pen that he was using to jot down notes on his case files. I scribbled down the rules as best I remembered them and then took on a few extra suggestions that were offered up by some of the others.

“The most important card is the King. Obviously.” I said, placing the rules chart down on an empty section of the table. “If you draw a King, you need to pour some of your drink into the jug in the centre of the table. The person who draws the last King card, has to put some of their own beverage in first and then drink the entire concoction. The game ends when all the cards are used up.”

“It’s a perfectly good way to get drunk and lose your dignity,” Nick said, smiling amenably. “Not that I would know, since I’m not able to get drunk… but I’m happy to help by reminding you of the instructions as you go.”

“Thanks Nick,” I said, passing the sheet of paper over to him. Vadim looked around at the rest of the group, apparently perplexed.

“So then… who is winner of game? Person who gets to drink horrible ‘concoction’?”

“I’d more likely say that’s the loser…” MacCready said, his lip quirking up slightly at the corner. In the previous game we had played, _he_ had been the one to draw the last King card and had been forced to drink a truly horrible brew of white wine, Bourbon, beer and Vodka mixed with Mutfruit juice. We’d made him do it outside so if he did a spit-take, we wouldn’t have a mess to clean up. As it happened, he had a lovely, long deep sleep after he went to bed and couldn’t be roused until the following afternoon, when he suddenly sat up, like an alarmed squirrel that had been poked in the ass with a stick. Deacon had suggested that we patent the mixture as an authentic sleep tonic; listing the only side effects as memory loss and potential organ failure.

I smiled back at MacCready, sharing a conspiring wink with him. “I think that’s fair to say. It’s really not a game about winners and losers, Vadim. It’s just about having fun. You’ll see. Some of the stuff that happens is absolutely hilarious.”

So we played a round of Kings Cup, which true to my earlier statement _did_ end up being fucking hilarious. Being forced to do shots or making other people do shots was all well and good but what made the game truly gold were the more creative rules. Number 7 for example, was normally paired with the rule ‘Heaven’; so whoever drew the card would then shoot their arm into the air and whoever was last to do so had to take a penalty shot. We changed this however to ‘Gecko’, which livened things up considerably. Whoever drew this card would immediately vault out of their seat, turn and then attach themselves, gecko like if you will, to the nearest available surface. This could be anything but the table and surrounding chairs; you actually had to get up and move away before latching onto something. This could include but was not limited to: walls, potplants, the Port-a-diner in quite a few instances and other people. Deacon nearly gave Scarlett a heart attack when he latched onto her. Cait was forced to take a penalty shot for trying to get away with latching onto Travis, who was in turn latched onto a startled looking Yefim. Hancock thoughtfully dragged Conner up with him every time a ‘gecko’ card was pulled, to the result that they both most often ended up having to take a penalty shot. Hancock took it with good humor though, and not once left Conner sitting at the table, uninvolved and abandoned. I got that warm little feeling in my chest every time I saw him grab the boy up by the arm and try to rush him over to flatten against the bar top. The thought crossed my mind that it was kind of a shame he couldn’t have children, because he definitely had it in him to be a good father.

I buttoned this thought up pretty darn quickly.

Another rule was that if you drew a Jack, you got to make up your own rule for the table. This was when things tended to get truly childish and that night was no exception. MacCready was the first to draw a Jack and his rule was whenever someone had to get up out of their chair, they had to make a farting sound. Of course Deacon had to then clarify whether this sound was to be made specifically with our mouths of if we actually had to fart. Piper and I immediately protested the latter; citing embarrassment, general hygiene and overall stupidity, to name a few reasons but MacCready made it clear that we just had to pretend to fart, by making a raspberry sound with our tongues. Which was still stupid and childish but for some reason, he always tended to find these things funny. To each their own I suppose. It did end up being hilarious when later, Vadim drew a Jack and made a rule that whenever someone stood up, they also had to dance like a chicken and cluck. This lead to Hancock almost wetting himself, because he didn’t want to stand up and make an idiot of himself by blowing raspberries and chicken dancing after getting up to go to the toilet. He actually waited for _me_ to go first and then he meshed his in with mine and scuttled off before anyone could say anything. Cheeky bastard.

These two rules in turn made the Ace card absolutely _hysterical._ When an Ace was pulled, it was the Waterfall rule. The person who drew the card would stand up and start to scull their drink back and the person beside them would follow on and then the person beside them and then so on and so on. You were only allowed to stop when the person beside _you_ stopped. Which was horrible for everyone involved when Vadim started because _god damn_ that man can drink. I thought we were all likely to drown before he came up for air. And of course we all had to stand up first, pretend to fart, do a chicken dance and _then_ try to drink, which resulted in alcohol being splurted out noses, dribbling down chins and generally horrible messiness because _no one_ could hold in their laughter after hearing and seeing the other people in the group do these things.

Another great rule that we made up on the night was for the number 10 card and was called ‘Hat Thief’. If this card was pulled, the person with it had to quickly snatch a hat from someone’s head and run around the table with it. If they were able to get back to their seat and put the hat on their head before the owner caught them, the owner had to take a penalty shot. If they got caught, they had to take the drink instead. Cait managed to get away with MacCready’s hat, though I honestly think he was a little too flustered to try and grab her as she ran away from him.

I was the only one brave enough to steal Hancock’s hat but I fumbled getting out of my seat and had to take a rather protracted detour around the bar, squeezing past Yefim in order to try and slow Hancock down. Which might have worked better if Hancock simply hadn’t dropped to the floor and slid between Yefim’s feet. For fucks sake, how anyone could pull something like that off when they’re stoned and drunk I don’t know. I was a little too stunned at the manoeuvre to recover properly and he lurched onto the backs of my legs, dragging me down to the ground and sitting on my rump. I tucked the hat underneath myself, using my body to shield it, because the game wasn’t really over until he had taken his hat back but it didn’t help that I was ticklish and his fingers were twitching all over my sides. I pressed my face into the floor, biting back my laughter and trying not to roll back and forth to get away from the sensation.

“Give it up, Munch!” He grunted, sweeping one hand down under my right hand side in an attempt to reach the hat. I immediately rolled onto it, pinning his fingers to the floor, so he attempted to go in with his left. I didn’t swing back in time and his hand plunged in, sweeping right along the lower curve of my breast.

I felt my face flush immediately, my mind inadvertently drifting back to my little daydream in the shower. I knew I had to roll with it, so to speak, so I grunted back; “Get your hands off of my tits, you fucking perve!” And rolled over to crush that hand down against the ground but he had already retracted it, most likely having realized what he had done before I said anything.

“Well excuse _me_ for them being in the way!” He snapped back, now grabbing the tops of my arms and trying to yank them up towards him so that my hands were forced out from under my body. When he saw that this wasn’t going to work, he leaned forward, slid both his arms down under my chin and braced them one across the other. I felt his thighs tighten around my hips and his breath hot on the back of my neck. For a second, just a second, I found myself wishing that we were alone in the room together and the thought startled me so much that I wasn’t in any position to retaliate as Hancock then tipped over onto his side, like a crocodile taking its prey into a death roll. His back hit the floor, bringing me up so that I was now laying on top of him, facing towards the ceiling. His arms immediately shot down from around my neck to where my hands clutched the hat, no longer protected by the barrier of the floor. I whipped my arms up into the air, flailing the hat around so that he couldn’t get a grip on it.

“Oi, calm down you two before I get bucket of cold water,” I heard Vadim call cheerfully from over at the table. Cait naturally was whooping it up and calling out various statements of encouragement, most of which denounced us both of our clothing if we had a mind to follow through with her submissions.

“For christ’s sake Munch, just spare us both our dignity and let the fucking thing go!!” Hancock said, though we were both laughing and he didn’t sound in the least bit cross or embarrassed. He had his legs wrapped around my middle as well and locked at the ankle so that I wasn’t able to get up. I tried to anyway, lurching up and struggling to push myself through his ankles and when that didn’t work, squiggling down along the line of his body to try and slip beneath them. He immediately changed tactics and grabbed hold of both my arms at the wrists and pulled them tightly apart, forcing the hat into my right hand.

And then he stuck his tongue in my ear.

“Oh GOD!” I shrieked, feeling his grip loosen on my wrist enough so that I could bring my hand down to wipe my molested earhole out. It was clever timing because he had only released his hold on the hand that was gripping his hat and in reflexively reaching for my ear, I had unthinkingly let go of it. He immediately swept it from my fingers the second they loosened and brought it back behind me to perch as best it could on his own head.

“Gotcha.” He whispered in my ear, blowing a hot little breath against the still wet flesh as he then loosened his legs and arms from around me. I wasn’t so sure I was even _able_ to stand, given how weak my legs suddenly felt. I could still feel his tongue sliding into my ear, up across the lobe first before then darting inside; which sure as shit took some guts to do, considering he knew jack shit about my ear cleaning habits.

And _oh god help me_ it had felt nice. My whole body had bristled with a cool shiver, particularly around my upper back and a little voice in my mind had started whispering _again, more, again._ It must have been the drink. Who doesn’t get a little bit horny when they’ve been on the turps? I needed to be really careful tonight, or I could end up ruining a perfectly wonderful friendship by being a nasty little tramp.

Hancock had gotten to his feet faster than me and offered his hand to support me in getting up. I accepted, struggling onto legs that definitely still felt a little quivery. I wiped at my ear again, feeling my lips purse into a pout, which of course he only mocked by laughing at.

“You know that in my time rape could be defined as penetration of any bodily orifice by any digit without a person’s consent?” I snapped at him, wiping my wet finger off on the hem of my night shirt.

MacCready perked an eyebrow at me, looking interested. “Really? So, if I stuck my finger up Deacon’s nose without his permission, I’ve just committed rape on him?”

“Quintessentially, yes.” I stated, which only prompted MacCready to turn towards Deacon with a rather insidious expression on his face. Deacon responded immediately and maturely by poking two torn of pieces of Fancy Lads Snack cakes up his nostrils and then saying, in a rather nasally voice; “No means _no_ , buddy.”

Hancock and I returned to the table and I took my penalty shot with only the slightest amount of protest; I still didn’t think it was fair to stick your tongue in someone’s ear to make them surrender but what did I know?

As I set my glass down, Conner started making signs at Hancock and I, his face a pure study in scepticism. Hancock immediately chuckled and signed back, saying; “No, like I said before. We’re just friends. Friends who like to apparently ‘digitally rape’ one another on occasion.”

“Oh Christ, don’t tell him _that!_ ” I scolded, watching as the poor boys face dropped into a look of shock before Hancock made some signs to indicate that he was joking.

We continued with the game, enjoying ourselves thoroughly with all the various surprises and conversations that came out of some of the situations the cards guided us to. Eventually, Piper pulled the last King and she was forced to scull from the jug in the middle of the table. It wasn’t too terrible, given that it was mostly beer with just a small contribution of wine from my glass but she still looked the worse for wear when she finally finished chugging it down. Not to mention a little gassy because she had to cover a rather cavernous belch that shortly followed. Luckily, there were only a few cards remaining and we were able to round it off beautifully with one final ‘Gecko’, which was a perfect visual clarification in how drunk we actually were by this stage, because not a single chair remained standing after we had all stumbled over and out of them to find a surface to stick to. Hancock and Conner were once again forced to have the final shot of their drinks and with that, we were able to bring the game to a close.

“That was wonderful game!” Vadim laughed, propping his own chair back up and sweeping all the cards back into a neat little pile that he then completely ruined by jamming them back into the packet with far too much force. “We must play again next time you are in town! I think then, I make rule that whenever young lady must take shot, she must also give barman a kiss, eh?”

“Yes. Which would work out well for me, given that _I_ had to be barman tonight while you slacked off.” Yefim said, frowning scoldingly at his brother as he gathered dirty glasses into a tray that he balanced against his hip. Vadim didn’t have the good grace to look ashamed of himself and just waved a hand indifferently.

“Do not pretend to be troubled, Yefim, it was only for the one night! You would have me miss out on spending the evening with little _lapochka_?” I blinked obliviously as I suddenly felt two big hands slide under my arms and I was hoisted into the air, much like a toddler being plucked off of the floor if they were found indolently wandering about by a parent. I was jiggled around a little as Vadim rotated me, so that he could look up into my face, beaming as though I was some delightful animal he had encountered on the side of the road. “You are a true lady, Miss Vault Dweller. One day, I will say right thing and you will come running into my arms, head over heels as they say, uh? I will treat you like Queen in Castle for the rest of your life.”

I was fairly intoxicated by this stage and didn’t have much to say, so I took to swinging my feet back and forth above the ground; astonished at his physical strength. My goodness he was a strong boy if he was able to lift a hefty girl like me up in the air.

I did wonder if he was at all serious in his flirtations because he certainly seemed to be paying me a great deal more attention than he was the other girls. And Piper and Cait weren’t slouches in the looks department to say the least. I couldn’t say just what it was about me that had apparently caught his eye but the fact that I had helped rescue him with Travis might have ingrained itself in his mind for some reason. That or he just had a thing for curvy gals or something, I don’t know.

I wondered what I could say that might cool his ardour a little bit and as usual, I slipped into my smiling face far too easily as I said, “The things you go on with, Vadim. You keep flirting with me like this and I’ll start to think you have nefarious intentions in mind.”

“Oh! More than you could ever imagine, _lapochka!_ ” He exclaimed and I felt myself then being lowered so quickly towards his face that I had no time to even process what was happening before his lips landed on my cheek. He kissed me there once and then crossed over to kiss the other cheek; both gestures as bawdy and thespian as everything else he did but still lingering long enough to send the alarm bells peeling through my mind.

I hoped he might not attempt to go in for a third on my lips and I was desperately trying to remember if that was something they were comfortable doing in Russia, or if it was a French practice – or a practice anywhere at all – when my panicking thoughts were splintered by the feeling of another pair of arms wrapping about my middle. I glanced down to see Hancock’s white sleeves and felt then the comforting brace of his chest against my lower back. He tugged me down firmly out of Vadim’s hands and because he was shorter, my weight fell down against him and we stumbled a little. He kept his arms around me as I found my footing and I could see the curve of the very pleasant smile that he was directing towards Vadim. I knew precisely what this smile meant; that Hancock’s thoughts were not so pleasant as his expression might have otherwise indicated.

“Sorry for interrupting,” He said, in a tone that plainly stated that he didn’t give a shit if Vadim minded or not. “But wouldn’t you know it; the radio’s gone and started playing another one of our songs. So, if you’ll just excuse us.”

Vadim moaned melodramatically, reaching out both hands towards us as though appealing to the world for justice. “Here we go again! This is just like thing with chip!”

“This ain’t _nothin’_ like the thing with the chip.” Hancock growled back and he looked so darn firm that I think Vadim realized that the joke was done and he simply gave a conceding smile as he started to help Yefim gather glasses. I dozily allowed Hancock to lead me back over to the little dance floor area and just went with him into the slow, gentle two-step that he initiated; resting my face up against his shoulder. The radio was playing one of Magnolia’s songs; which I always loved to hear. Travis had actually met with her to purchase the rights to her music and she had recorded a number of her own songs for him to play on Diamond City radio. The one currently playing; ‘Man enough’, most definitely wasn’t one of mine and Hancock’s numbers but it was obvious he had been lying to Vadim in order to spare me from an awkward situation.

I was feeling just a little over to the far side of the right kind of drunk, so I was fairly quiet; just keeping tabs on myself and letting out the occasional weary yawn. It was no different to how I normally was when I’d been drinking but Hancock must have thought something was bothering me because after a few moments of just turning circles on the dance floor, he tilted his head down towards me.

“Should I have just… minded my own damn business then?” He asked and when I looked into his face, his brows were creased down low in the corners to show that he was genuinely concerned. “Because if I acted outta turn-”

I shook my head and reached up to press my palm to the side of his face. It came so natural, without any thought at all and without a hint of hesitation. I could feel the ridges in his cheek against my palm, the warmth of his flesh. I wanted to run my fingertips down and trace the shape of his jaw; touch his chin and his lips. Reassure him that I knew his softness, knew his warm heart, even if no one else cared to look any further than his scarred and serrated skin. All these thoughts were starting to spiral out of control; the seed that Cait had planted in my mind shooting vines that were climbing through every intricate weaving of latticework that made up my cogitations. I felt calmer looking into his worn and weathered face than I did Vadim’s handsome features and even my heart beat to a different rhythm; like coming home to a familiar safe shell after being dangled so close to danger. Hancock had somehow become my safe place; my point to retreat to when all the encroaching dangers, be they what they were, came knocking.

“No. I’m glad you stepped in then. I know it’s all harmless with Vadim but-”

Hancock’s brows rose and then titled inward, his expression turning to one of irritation instead. He gave me a very stern, admonishing look that made me feel in an instant like a foolish child. “Eve, you need to understand something. If you’re sweet to everyone all the time, they’re gonna start to infer things about you that may not be so harmless. Don’t get me wrong, the fact that you’re kind to people; it’s the best thing about you.” He reached up to take my hand from his cheek and gave it a little squeeze. “Even stuff like _this._ Touching people; you know? You can’t just be sweet to folks all the goddamned time. Polite, sure. Kind, yeah. Hell, you can even be _nice_ , if ya want but sweet? That’s in pretty rare supply in the Commonwealth, kiddo. Folks’ll be drawn to it because it ain’t like nothin’ else they’ve ever known. And they’ll want it. They’ll want _you._ ”

I gave a flippant snort, rolling my eyes back in my head. “Oh yeah. Because I’m such a fucking catch.”

Now he looked truly annoyed and he actually stopped turning me about, his eyes narrowing to the point that I thought I had badly fucked up and now he was mad at me. I felt his arm tighten against my back and his hand clenched mine that little bit tighter. “Would you stop… talking about yourself like that?” He finally said, his voice strained from trying to repress his temper I think. “It’s no small fucking wonder Doc Crockpot zeroed in on you. You reek of insecurity Munch and you have no reason to be like that. Christ, it’s like you’ve never looked in a mirror.”

For the first time in a long time I struggled to say something, to relax the situation somehow but nothing came out. His words weren’t especially harsh but his tone cut me for some reason. I might have been a little emotional on account of all the booze, I don’t know. But my eyes teared up all the same and I turned my head down, looking off to the side so that he couldn’t see I was upset. I don’t know why I bothered, because he was one of the least stupid men that I knew and he wasn’t fooled by much.

“Hey… I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.” He said softly, dipping his head down a little to try and meet my eyes. I nodded a bit and forced myself to look up, my vision clearing a little.

“I know… don’t mind me. I’m just being a dummy.” I sighed, sliding my arm along his upper back and pressing my spare hand around his hip. Without his coat on, I could more easily feel the shifting of his muscles beneath my palms and I’d had enough drinks now to not give a shit if I indulged it or not. I moved closer to him, pressing my chin up onto his shoulder; our bodies crushing together. The slow, sensual sound of the saxophone which lilted in the background of Magnolia’s song guided us back into our dance. I thought about his body against mine as we wrestled for control of his hat on the floor, his hand brushing against my breast and his tongue sliding up along and into my ear. I could feel the fight leaching out of me, my brain taking a breather from considering things too deeply and simply allowing us to move to the music, our arms and hands clenched about one another and rocking; feeling, touching. It was warm and safe here with him. I felt like slinking into bed and just curling up close with him; doing nothing but holding one another and feeling the soft intakes of breath in and out and the living pulse of another person.

**~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Part three of this flash back scene will be up next and this, with any luck should actually be here in a couple of days. I have only a tiny bit towards the end to wrap up and a bit of editing but I thought it might be nice to get something out now before the rest drags on too much. And my husband kills me, one or the other. I tend to run away from him when I’m writing, to the point where he thinks I’m actually trying to avoid him. Lol, my Fallout fanfic is turning into a home wrecker! Ah well, see you all next time my darlings!
> 
> ~ MadamMortis ~


	5. The Softening Edges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The other drifters tried warning me; told me to keep my head down and button my yap but I didn’t listen. Too full of my own self-importance and ignorant enough to believe that the shit that was happening to them couldn’t possibly happen to me.” He scoffed through the darkness, his eyes pinched shut in the glow from his cigarette as he took another puff from it. “Couldn’t have been more off the mark with that one. Guess I must’ve mouthed that one too many times because that’s when Vic and his boys called in these couple of goons called ‘Wranglers’..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Bethesda, except for little daft O’Conner, who I can’t honestly say I would fight them for if they tried to claim rights over him. Hey, he’s just a character establishing device at days end. With, I’m sure, a lovely personality.
> 
> A/N: Ah, god, help me. Sorry, hello again my lovelies. Part three at last and then, I am taking a break for at least a week or two! I still can’t believe how out of control this flash back sequence got, even with the amount I’ve knuckled down and tried to edit it. So sorry that it has dragged out the way that it has!
> 
> So, a few warnings for this chapter, not that it’s anything too dramatic, I can assure you. A mention of some non-consensual stuff and a sex-dream. Nothing particularly in depth but I wanted to put that out there just in case.
> 
> On a random note, I was listening to the lyrics of the song ‘Gods and Monsters’ the other day; by Lana Del Ray and I thought, ‘Good God… it could almost perfectly describe Hancock’s thoughts to himself when looking back on his first arriving in Goodneighbor and his relationship with the Sole Survivor.’ Fantastic song, well worth checking out if you haven’t already heard it. I admit to first hearing it on American Horror Story like I’m sure a great deal of people did but I certainly appreciate the lyrics themselves.
> 
> On another note, I'm not sure how many people who read this might be directly, or even directly impacted by the horrendous shooting in Orlando but my heart goes out to all and to everyone involved or affected. It's a terrible, terrible tragedy and as a massive supporter of the LGBT community I am particularly devastated to see the lives of so many young, beautiful and brave people lost. People who were brave enough to be themselves and were simply out enjoying life.
> 
> I know this isn't the correct forum for this but I just wanted to extend my condolences and support to anyone who might be reading who is affected by the shootings. No politics here, just good old fashioned love, which I think is what we could all use most of all. So, big hugs to all you lovely people out there, with whatever you are going through in your life! I would wrap you all up in my arms if they were long enough but alas they are not, and it's probably a good thing. Because then I would be a circus freak.
> 
> What that being said, read on my darlings and I will see you in the post notes! xxx ooo

 

> _“Softness is not weakness. It takes courage to stay delicate in a world this cruel.” **~ Beau Taplin: Shed your Sharp Edges ~**_

**~**

**Evelyn Hallows**

As the song came to a close, I felt Hancock’s lips brush against my ear and I tensed; wondering whether he might have been intending to make his move. But then I heard his voice; soft… a whispered susurrations that was somehow even sultrier than his usual tone.

“Hey… I’m gonna walk that kid Conner back home… just wanna see he’s set up okay, ya dig? Feel like taking a stroll?”

Honestly, a stroll was the last thing I felt like. I was so damn drowsy and dopey that all I really wanted to do was just roll into bed and go to sleep but Hancock and I always watched each other’s backs. I couldn’t even trust that in a place like Diamond City he would be safe from attack; given what the city and its’ populace thought of Ghouls. So I bit my true feelings down and nodded, taking my arms from around him and slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow instead.

The others all looked happy to kick on for a while, with Travis and Cait up having another dance, whilst Piper, Dean, MacCready and Nick were locked deep in conversation about something. Dogmeat was curled up fast asleep on the sofa and I knelt down to stroke his face a few times, giving him a kiss on the muzzle before returning to Hancock’s side. He had slipped his jacket back on and was now bumping fists with Hawthorne, who looked as though he was finally calling it a night.

“Been the best night I’ve had in a long time,” He said happily and, judging from the way that he staggered out the door, I gathered this was quite true. Conner smiled after him and then turned to look back at Hancock and me, making a few signs with his hands.

“It’s not a problem,” Hancock signed back, crooking his elbow up as he did so that I could slide my palm back into place there. “Just wanna make sure you get back okay, is all. No stress.”

Conner gave a grateful smile and a small nod of his head before turning to walk down the front hallway. Hancock guided me along in his wake, but not before first reaching up to give the brass bell by the door a few loud clangs, which immediately set the boys (and Dogmeat) into a series of seal like barks and a scurrying for shots. I slapped him on the arm, unable to keep a straight face when I saw the amused smile light on his own. Guess there are just some things that little boys just never grow out of.

We followed along behind Conner, weaving our drunken path across the walkway to the right of the Dugout Inn, passing by the science lab and a few local residents houses before lighting up by the man-made lake situated to the rear of the town. Travis’s shack was here; a construct designed from the shell of an old caravan and the place from which he broadcast Diamond City radio. Going by what he had said previously, I guess he had lined up a number of songs just to play on loop tonight; giving him the chance to have a break. And maybe even more if Cait got her way.

Hancock tapped Conner gently on the arm, drawing his attention towards the shacks that were situated just above the waterline. “You live in one of these, kid?”

Conner shook his head and gestured with both hands towards the covered shelter, located just off to the left of us and framed by Diamond City’s crop plantation. The ‘lean to’, in so few words, was a construct designed mainly to shelter workers from the sun and inclement weather during the day but I knew for a fact that a number of residents actually slept here permanently. I had always just assumed that these individuals were in transit, perhaps waiting for approval for alternative accommodation. Judging from the set up that Conner had established around one of these old mattresses; a cut off steel shelf with all his clothing folded up on, a torch for reading, toiletries and other assorted odds and ends, he had knuckled down here for some time. And clearly had nowhere else to go.

Hancock looked positively shocked, though I can’t say why for certain. It wasn’t a terrific situation but it wasn’t much different to what a number of people were making do with over in Goodneighbor. At least the folks here had a roof over their heads; even if there wasn’t much in the way of a windbreak.

“This is where you’re sleeping?” Hancock asked and his hands were now moving in such a flurry that Conner frowned and made a sign which prompted Hancock to repeat what he had said, much more slowly. Once he was clear on what he was being asked, the boy just offered up a little smile and nodded, sweeping a hand leisurely towards the mattress as if to say, ‘home, sweet home’.

Hancock’s face crumpled into a frown and he knelt down slowly beside the mattress, tilting his head as he pinched a corner of the bare doona and peeled it back. The fabric underneath looked brown and probably mildewed. I felt my own face screw up in sympathy. I couldn’t believe the poor boy was forced to sleep on that. Compared to other places in the Commonwealth, this much was probably a luxury but still…

“Where have you been showering? And washing your clothes?” Hancock asked, looking back up at Conner as he signed to him. The boy gestured back, indicating somewhere off towards the far right afterwards. “The guards let you use their facilities… suppose that’s something… you really need a new mattress though. You’ll get sick if you keep sleeping on this. Are you getting enough in caps to afford to pay for new bedding?”

Conner gave a little shrug of his shoulders and made a series of short, sharp signs with his hands. Hancock’s face took on an even darker countenance.

“Only from the bit of maintenance work you do…” He said, spelling everything out so as to keep me informed of the conversation, I guess. He tilted his head to the side again, looking confused as he signed back. “That wouldn’t be nearly enough to keep you floatin’, kid. How much of a benefit do you receive from the mayors’ office?”

Now it was Conner’s turn to look confused and his left hand brow lifted up into his forehead whilst the other sank down further over his right eye. He made a few small gestures back.

“What do ya mean ‘ _what benefit’_? Your DSP; your disability support pension.” Hancock stated, his hands now jabbing about with clear impatience. “You have a diagnosed disability that prohibits you from being able to engage in any ongoing regular employment. That entitles you to a subsidy, which the mayor’s office has a responsibility to provide from taxes accrued per annum. You should be receiving a fortnightly pension and emergency accommodation assistance, given how vulnerable your loss of hearing makes you.”

I felt my own brows shoot into my forehead; stunned to not only hear Hancock speaking of something as purely generous as a ‘disability support pension’ but that he in turn knew so much about the conditions concerning one and what Conner was entitled to. Not to mention he had been drinking since about five o’clock in the afternoon and he was still able to rattle all of that off confidently and correctly.

“How do you know so much about a DSP?” I asked, crossing my arms across my chest to try and keep some warmth circulating around my body. Hancock glanced over his shoulder at me.

“How do you think? We have one in place in Goodneighbor.” He said, though there wasn’t as much as a hint of pride in his voice. It was as though he knew that something like this ought to be the standard and that he was only doing what was expected. “We also have a Benefits Return scheme where money that has been taxed is repaid to residents in the form of supplies they might require.” He turned back to Conner and took to signing once more. “We have the DSP in Goodneighbor. The funds that an individual receives can also help them access services. And things like more affordable medications or accommodation. This would help improve your conditions here. Haven’t you been receiving one? They did have the system in place here in Diamond City some years back. If that bastard’s gone and scrapped it…”

Conner made a few motions with his hands and Hancock hissed furiously between his teeth, twisting his head off to the side in an expression of pure, undiluted anger.

“Selfish fucking asshole. If it hadn’t been for that DSP we never could have gotten Mom the help she needed. Doesn’t he even _think_ that other people might be in the same situation?” He gave his head a shake as though to clear it and then started patting the pockets of his jacket down, as though searching for something. He eventually slipped a folded piece of card from one of his inside pockets and held it out to show Conner something on it. “See here?” He asked, gesturing for Conner to take it so that he was able to sign for him. “These are safe directions to the town of Goodneighbor. I’ve taught a few of the guards there how to sign, so folks will be able to understand you and provide help if you need it. I want you to pop on round if ya ever need anything, okay? Just tell ‘em that Hancock sent you and some of my boys’ll see to it.”

Conner gave what I thought was a rather strained smile in return and shook his head, holding the card back out to Hancock between two fingers. Hancock frowned down at it, refusing to take it.

“What do you mean ‘ _no?_ ’ You got legs, don’t ya? They could walk you there well enough if you needed. Or get on the ham radio at Travis’s and give our boy Kent a bell. He’ll send someone around to walk you over if you’re worried about being attacked.”

I got the impression that what Conner was concerned about wasn’t being attacked on the road and I felt very sorry for him trying to make his point to Hancock. He attempted anyway, slowly and almost ashamedly signing a series of words which made Hancock’s creased face slowly sink ever gradually downward, until he looked almost personally dejected.

“Your uh… your Mama made you promise… never to go to Goodneighbor.” Hancock translated, pressing the fingertips of both hands together and then looking down at them, clearly at a loss as to what to think of this. “It’s too dangerous… and it’s full of bad people that would hurt you.”

Conner appeared genuinely upset and he whipped out a quick sign with his hand.

“You don’t gotta be sorry,” Hancock said, waving the gesture off. “It’s your choice at the end of the day, kiddo. I’m just lettin’ you know that you got options.” He reached now into another pocket and pulled out a handful of small bags, each one probably containing the equivalent of a zillion caps. He held these out towards the boy. “Here, at least let me spring for a new mattress for ya.”

This must have been far too much for Conner to accept gracefully because his face went completely red and he took two steps away, brandishing his arms with almost manic energy. Hancock shook the bags insistently at him.

“I’m not trying to make you a charity case!” He growled, using his spare hand to make the signs as best he could. “I’m just trying to give you a leg up! Whatever’s left over you can use for food or whatever you need. Just take it, will ya?”

“Hancock, honey. I think he’s embarrassed.” I said softly, stepping forward and resting my hand on his lower arm. Hancock seemed to deflate almost instantly at my words, as though I’d stuck a pin through the swelling sphere of his displeasure. “You’ve been lovely to try and help him out but it might be time to just call it a night. He knows now where to find you if he needs you.”

I could see Conner flashing me a grateful smile and he made the sign that I now recognized as ‘thankyou’ to Hancock a few times. Hancock tucked the bags of caps back into his pocket and made a couple of signs in return.

“Ain’t nothin’.” He said, his expression reminding me of a kid who had been reprimanded whilst doing something that they had gone and gotten all excited about. “Hope ya had a good night. Ya just give me a yell if there’s ever anything I can do, yeah?”

Conner nodded and made the ‘thankyou, thankyou’ gesture again before plonking himself down onto the mattress with a contented expression. I smiled and waved at him as I backed away, realizing that Hancock hadn’t waited for me to take a hold of his elbow this time and had simply stomped off by himself. Shit, he must have been cross with me for stepping in like I did but I didn’t know what else to do. It was upsetting for both of them; Conner having too much pride to accept that much money from Hancock and Hancock unable to back away from a situation that he felt responsible for resolving. The fucking thing could have gone on all night though and would have most likely just badly distressed the both of them.

I wrapped my arms tightly about my middle, feeling the chill of the wind steal around my face as I turned and hurried off down the left hand path. Hancock hadn’t gotten far ahead of me; he had paused by the walkway that ran adjacent to Travis’s shack and was staring out over the water with his hands in his pockets. I skittered up behind him and dithered there, uncertain as to whether I might have been an unwanted spectator to a private moment but then he spoke; loud enough so that I knew it was directed towards me.

“It’s gone.” He stated and his tone was so matter of fact it was hard to tell whether he was genuinely upset by what he had discovered. I took a few steps closer, following the angle of his head with my own. He was staring across the broad expanse of the natural lake, to where I could see in the dim lights from the surrounding buildings, a number of damaged pylons jutting out from the water.

It clicked then and I turned to stare at his profile; his face giving away nothing of his inner feelings. “Was that were your shack was?” I asked, thinking how stupid a question it was even before the words had left my mouth. I doubt he would have expressed any concern over say, a missing water filter or a kids’ water slide or something.

Hancock gave a small, almost imperceptible nod and took one hand out of his pocket to gesture towards the pylons. “Used to be right there; just behind Travis’s joint. There was a walkway that branched out and across…” He drifted his finger across the line of the water, following a remembered path. “The shacks used to meet at a little bridge right there… my old man and Travis’s used to catch up right there in the middle after finishing work and stare off over the water. Shoot the breeze and have a smoke. Pop smoked a pipe. I remember I could see the curl of smoke from it just before he came inside to say ‘hey’.”

His voice cracked a little and whatever thoughts I had about respecting his privacy collapsed beneath the surge of compassion I felt for him. I pushed myself right up against the line of his back and slowly wrapped my arms around his chest, giving him a small kiss on the shoulder. He hefted a very slow, very deep sigh that rose and sank his body as though he was being rolled by waves in the distant ocean.

“You miss him.” I said, not insulting him by phrasing it as a question because it was obvious how much he did. Hancock was a strong man, with a breezy attitude that could all too easily fool others into thinking that he wasn’t bothered by much of anything but he had a gentle heart underneath all that emotional scar tissue. It made rare moments like these, when he did lose control, so startling that I felt physically weak in my compulsion to comfort him. This softness at his inner core pulled at me; made me want to reach in through that gap in his armour and press down upon those still streaming wounds until they abated. It never pleased me to see him in pain but I loved being witness to these little moments where that truly sensitive side of him peaked through; however rare the occurrence.

“Like fucking crazy.” He murmured, lowering his head for a moment and then tapping the tip of his boot to the ground. One of his little ticks for when he was trying to regain control of his emotions. “I really… loved that old bastard, ya know? We were cheated when we lost him. Just fucking… cheated.”

I squeezed him a little tighter, resting my cheek against the wall of his back, feeling his warmth through the layers of clothing between us. “We never have the people that we love long enough,” I said, my mind drifting back to when that dark hole opened up in Nate’s forehead; the splatter of red that bloomed suddenly, dreadfully like the most impatient of flowers onto the wall behind him. I quickly cast up the iron barricade in my mind, forcing the memory out of sight and squeezed Hancock even tighter, anchoring myself back into the moment with his warmth and firm lines. “Do you… have somewhere you can go? You know, to visit your father?”

He gave a little nod as he reached up, clasping his hand around my lower arm. Perhaps anchoring himself to reality just as much as I had been. His palm was rough and firm, but not unpleasant. “We don’t really do burials in this day and age, Munch. Don’t wanna run the risk of Super Mutants digging our loved ones up and decorating their houses with ‘em. Cremation is the standard practice. Took Pop’s ashes out to one of the old watering holes, where he used to take Matt and me fishing and scattered him there. Figured he’d like that; being out over the water. I go there sometimes to visit, if I feel like I need to be close to the old fella.”

I smiled as I gave his chest a firm pat; just letting him feel that I was there and we were silent for a while then. We gazed out over the water, at the near stillness of the sheltered lake; almost black in the darkness of the closing night. I could hear the soft, quiet laps of water grazing against the pylons of Travis’s shack and brushing against the walkway. Hancock had a little bit of his weight against me now and I rocked my shoulders gently, swaying him on the balls of his feet. I wanted to give him a moment to just be; to feel sad and sink into that feeling fully, without concerning himself that anyone other than me might see him at it.

After a minute or so of this, he hefted another sigh, shakier than the first. “I just… I don’t understand why he’d… why he’d tear it down. Or… let it be torn down. Why he wouldn’t try to save it. What, is he just trying to pretend like he was never from here? Like Ma and Pop… like _none_ of it was worth preserving?”

Whatever motivated McDonough to behave the way that he did was as much a mystery to me as to how the makers of Fancy Lads Snack cakes managed to inject the jam into the middle of the pastry without leaving a hole behind. And according to Hancock, the noodle quaffing, irreverent McDonough presiding over Diamond City these days, was hardly anything like the one that he had grown up with, so I suppose we were both at a loss as to what he was thinking. I thought back to when I had seen him giving a short spiel to the city populace, in response to the article Piper had written about him potentially being a synth.

“I don’t think that he’s ashamed of where he came from,” I said, trying to be as fair as I could possibly be. Regardless of what McDonough had done during his time as Mayor, I respected that he was still Hancock’s brother and it wasn’t my place to hurl crap at him. “I saw him give a speech when I first came to Diamond City and he spoke about growing up here on the waterfront. He mentioned your Mom and Dad by name. Honestly, sweetheart, I think it serves him well to remind people of this fact; because it _reminds_ them of where he came from. That he _was_ one of them, that he grew up here, that his mother and father were both normal, hardworking people of Diamond City. Makes him seem… more relatable, maybe?”

Hancock thought about this for a moment and then made a humorous little ‘huff’ from his nasal cavity. “Heh… thinking you might be spot on with that one, Munch. Don’t reckon he’d be reminding people out of pride. There’d be some strategy behind it.” His chest distended as he let another slow, measured breath out. “It just… gave me a bit of shock, you know? To see it gone. I don’t have much to remember the past by. McDonough’s got the only picture… photos weren’t easy to come by back in the day and after I nicked off to Goodneighbor, he just took what he wanted, I guess. That’s my fault though. If I had wanted something badly enough, I shoulda gone back to get it. Bit late now.”

I slid my hand around his hip and dipped my fingers into his pocket, searching about until I was able to pinch the corner of his cigarette packet. I eased it out just far enough to pull the lid open and tugged out a cigarette by the filter, which I then brought up to Hancock’s mouth. I waited for him to pinch it between his lips and he took it upon himself to light it with one of the matches from the box he kept in his inside pocket. He inhaled on the cigarette; the fibres crackling as the red ember followed the draw of his breath.

“Thanks chicken,” He said, turning his head to smile over his shoulder at me. He unfurled his fingers from where they had been clasped about my arm and slowly ran his fingertips up towards my wrist, taking my hand in his and squeezing gently. My skin, already goose pimply from the cold night air, seemed to now crackle with static and my heart raced in my chest as our thumbs grazed together. “You’re a sweet girl.”

I murmured something that I hoped was sufficiently modest, hoping that Hancock couldn’t feel the flush of my cheek or the maddening thumping of my heart through the back of his jacket. He must have noticed the goose flesh on my arms however, because he started to rub back and forth along them with the palm of his hand, and asked, “You cold?”

I shook my head as I eased my arms from around him, giving his shoulder a parting squeeze as I did. “I’m okay. Probably should have put on something thicker than this raggedy older jumper.” I muttered, rolling the sleeves down to my wrists and rubbing my fingertips together in order to restore some of the feeling to them.

Hancock started to shrug his coat off, ignoring my firm protests that I didn’t need it and proceeded to drape the big heavy article over my shoulders. He brought the halves together over my chest and then crossed one under the other, so that the coat wrapped tightly about my upper torso. I probably looked like a kid that had been tucked into bed by a neurotically over protective mother.

“Oh darlin’, I don’t need it.” I protested, not missing the pleasure he took in enfolding me all the way up to the chin. I probably looked like a big old Oscar Mayer wiener. “You’re only going to get cold now and then you’ll whinge and whine all night about how shivery you are. And probably end up spooning MacCready again.”

Hancock chuckled as he finished fussing about with the coat and gave me his usual little cluck under the chin. “All part of my evil plan.” He said, his other hand drifting about now to rest firm against my upper back, where it began making warm circles that I could feel even through the thick layers between us. It was always a little jarring to see him without the coat on but the perverted part of me didn’t at all mind having the chance to appreciate the view. I had always liked the way that a man looked in a waistcoat; the way that it tapered the torso into that gorgeous inverted triangle. Naturally, Hancock wore the waistcoat unbuttoned; being the rebel that he was, he was hardly likely to adhere to even the conventional expectations of clothing.

He even wore the dress shirt underneath like a little hussy; unbuttoned all the way down low on his chest, to just between the lines of his pectorals. The curlicue style of the shirt allowed for this to appear slightly more modest than it actually was but you could still see the flesh of his chest peeking through when he was moving around a lot or leaning over. Sometimes it felt as though I were spending time with a more chilled out, Ghoulified male version of Cait. Both of them seemed to be under the impression that people secretly wanted to take a good long gander at their goodies.

Not that I was put off by this. I liked that he didn’t make concessions for the fact that he was a Ghoul. He just did as he pleased and if people didn’t like it then ‘piss on them’; as I had heard him once ever so charmingly put it. It must have been encouraging for other Ghoul’s to see him act with such confidence and perhaps this is precisely why the Ghoulified members of the Neighborhood Watch were so unapologetic and flirtatious. Hancock acted with the complete and utter assurance that a person’s life did not end the moment that they became a Ghoul but could in fact go on much the way that it had before. I loved that he didn’t get about with a ‘poor me’ attitude but rather seemed to fully embrace it. He even made jokes about the fact that he was ‘ugly’ and ‘smelly’ and that bits and pieces of himself routinely fell off and got lost. None of which I thought to be true. When you care about someone enough, well, you don’t especially see them in terms of ‘attractive’ or ‘unattractive’. You just see _them_. They become their own classification that in and of itself is beyond definition. They become a feeling; a flush of imperceptible ‘somethingness’, a thought without contours, without shape, without words.

To me, he wasn’t ugly. And he didn’t smell bad in the least. He actually smelt a great deal nicer than most of the other people I had met in the Commonwealth; mainly because he upheld a stringent cleaning regime that involved a large number of oils, talc’s and moisturizers. All specifically designed to care for and to clean a Ghoul’s sensitive skin, ease pain and prevent further splitting of the mercilessly thin epidermis. His jacket held the same smell, buried deep into the folds and particularly noticeable around the collar, from the cologne that he dabbed around his neck. I could smell it that night as well; when I turned my head and pressed my nose against the stiff material it flooded my sinuses, taking me back to nights long past; the scent of first dates and unknown possibilities.

We stayed that way for some time, his arm around me with his hand making those tender, comforting movements. He traced the backs of his fingers over the place where my arm bulged beneath his coat, this movement even more temperate and deliberate than the one against my back. As the silence went on, it occurred to me that if I were to raise my head, I would most likely find that he was looking directly at me. If our eyes met, would he try to kiss me? Why otherwise would he be caressing me this way; contentedly? Wordlessly?

What moved me even more than this thought itself was the sudden flush of excitement that burst through me at the idea that it might actually happen. My mind was a great deal slower than my body was at figuring things out apparently because it was only now that it actually took notice of just what was going on. It quirked its metaphorical brain brow at my quickly hurtling heart, which pumped blood way too enthusiastically to places of seemingly little use and asked, ‘ _What the hell is going on here? I didn’t authorize any of this!’_

To which my body seemed to reply, ‘ _You didn’t notice? Shoot, we’ve been working on this for months!’_

Those tiny, initial stirrings of attraction I had been feeling all night were all starting to come to a head. I didn’t know how to deal with them, so I opted for what Hancock might call the ‘turtle up’ approach and leaned forward, sinking my head against his chest, bringing my arms up through the sleeves of his jacket and then wrapping them around his middle. I focused on the warmth of his body and tried to temper the feeling down to just this lone sensation and nothing else. He could only kiss me now if he forced my head back up and I didn’t think that he would go for something so direct; so coercive. Not if he had even the slightest of doubts in his mind about whether I would accept it or not.

God, what a gutless wonder I am.

“Have you ever tried talking to anyone after your Dad passed?” I asked, wondering even as I said it whether ‘talking to someone’ was a done thing in this day and age. I couldn’t really imagine folks swinging their feet up onto the old psychologists couch and taking the time to work through all their little idiosyncrasies and wet dreams; not when there was direct survival to focus on.

Hancock made that familiar rumbling sound in the back of his throat; the kind he did when he was considering something. “Talked to that priest fella over at the church. Other than that, not really. I just… kind of didn’t want to deal with it, you know? I wasn’t made of very stern stuff back then, Munch. Started taking the chems and going wild… all so I didn’t have to feel what I was feeling, you know?”

“You seem to be feeling it now, though.”

He gave a little laugh. “Not taking as many chems these days as I used to. Lotta stuff that I buried way back when is starting to float back up to the surface. I guess just being back here might be dredging up some crap for me.”

I thought about how the drinks had been piling up one after another in front of him during the night and realized that this may not have been as innocent as I had led myself to believe. “That why you got on the turps the way you did? Self-medicating?”

He chuckled again. “You know me too well, Munch. Being back here… I just… I’m not quite handling it as well as I thought I would.” He huffed an irritated little sigh. “Guess helping the kid mighta been a good distraction. God, I feel like a weak bastard for admitting that.”

I gave my head a very determined shake and looked up at him before I remembered that I was trying to avoid doing this. He was staring back at me for certain but he didn’t bring his face closer or swoop in for the big wet one, so I figured it was safe to meet his eyes.

“You’re not a weak bastard.” I said firmly, pressing my hand down directly to the centre of his chest. I could feel the flesh of his pectorals underneath my palm and the steady rise and fall of his lungs filling and deflating. “And don’t try and convince yourself that you in any way used that boy to meet your own needs. You’re reading way too much into it. The kid needed help and you helped him. That’s just who you are. I’m so proud of you for that.”

The lines around his eyes softened all the more at this and his mouth curled up into his little teddy-bear smile. “Heh… you got a way of making a guy get all hot in the face, Munch. Knew there must be a reason I keep ya around.” His fingers continued making those tender circles on my back, distracted I think by the meeting of our eyes. He was definitely giving me a good long stare down and I started thinking he wasn’t going to say anything else, but then he added, “I don’t know how you do it. Cracking on the way that you do… just… spearing ahead, even after what happened with your old man. You amaze the fuck out of me, you know that?”

I gave a humourless little chuckle that was almost lost to the stirring breeze around us. “I don’t think you can call it amazing, darl. It’s just… getting on with what needs to be done. Kinda like when I gave birth to Shaun. Hurt so bad I thought it was gonna kill me, but it wasn’t like I could just go back in time or stop where I was. Only way to go was forward. It’s only after the pain has really stopped that you realize you actually did manage to survive. Doesn’t seem so amazing when you’re just fighting to get to that next step.” I patted my hand against his chest. “Besides… you guys have all been here to help me, don’t forget.”

He flicked his head dismissively. “Yeah, but whether we’ve been here or not, you’ve still just managed to keep on going without completely falling apart. I just… wanted you to know that if it ever gets too much… we’re here, okay? All of us. Don’t push yourself so hard you drive yourself mad. If ya gotta collapse, just collapse. We’ll hold onto ya until you’re ready to get back on your feet again.”

I gave a small nod of my head and then tilted my face down before he could see my eyes start to well. God, it’s always the way, isn’t it? You keep yourself bound together tightly, to the point that you think you have it under control and then someone has to go and ask ‘are you okay?’ or something to the equivalent. Next thing you know, you’re blubbering out of control like an absolute loon.

Once upon a time I might have been surprised by Hancock’s sensitivity but now that I had come to know him better, I realized just how considerate a person he actually was. He kind of… moulded himself to the people in his environment; directly responding to what he felt was needed of him at any given time. Tough and sassy in Goodneighbor, gentle and considerate with me, hackles raised at Diamond City and all its piercing, scrutinizing eyes. It seemed such a shame to me that I was one of the very few people to know this side to Hancock. Although, he probably couldn’t afford to have too many people see that he had a cuddly side, or he’d forever be fighting off potential usurpers for Goodneighbors ‘tarnished little crown’.

I suckered back those determined swells of emotion which battered ceaselessly against my constitution and wrenched my lips back up into a smile, lifting my chin to meet Hancock’s eyes with a façade of control that I can’t imagine he bought for a moment. He cocked his head, still smiling and reached up to give the top of my head a ruffle; much like a parent indulging a spirited child who had been out in the rain all day.

“How about we take a stroll around town? Check out some of the old haunts?” He asked, bringing his arm from around my back and lifting his elbow for me to take.

“Oooh. Sounds _very_ romantic.” I said, slipping my fingers into that familiar little crease and then bringing my other hand up to rest against his lower arm. “Not sure I should. If MacCready finds out, he’ll probably fly into a jealous rage and scratch my eyes out.”

Hancock laughed at this and held a finger up to his lips. “Well, I won’t tell if you won’t.”

We made our way back through the tangles of crops, glancing over towards Conner as we went. The boy seemed to have gone straight off to sleep; no doubt snoozing off all the alcohol that Hancock had so generously insisted on pouring down his gullet. He seemed to have had had a lot of fun with us however, so whatever the degree of headache he had tomorrow morning, I imagine the trade-off was probably worth it in the long run. So long as he could _remember_ what he had done the previous night.

Hancock hadn’t been back to Diamond City in some time and he pointed out a lot of things that had changed in the past ten years, marvelling over the noodle stand and Takahashi the robot; who, due to a fault in his programming kept saying the same sentence in Japanese over and over again. (Hancock was more than convinced that he had taken too many Chems and was just spacing out before I was kind enough to explain the story). The school building was the same, he told me and he himself had actually been taught by Mister Zwicky and Edna when he was a wee nipper. When I informed him that Mister Zwicky and Edna were now married, he didn’t look the least bit surprised.

“Figures,” He said with a humourless little smile. “City bans Ghouls but they’re all on board with a school teacher slinging it up a robot.”

I slapped him on the arm, admonishing. “They make a lovely couple. Boo on you for being so unromantic.”

“Hey, I’m romantic.” He insisted, choosing to ignore my pointed expression which clearly brought into question the validity of this statement. “I just think it’s a bit hypocritical for this town to condemn a group of people for a condition they have no control over and then to accept an unconventional marriage between a moustached old dandy and a bucket of floating bolts. They’d rather have some weird-ass pervert teaching their kids, than have them cross paths with a Ghoul.” He pulled me along with him, shaking his head as he went. “Jesus, and I thought folks in Goodneighbor were whacked out of their scons.”

I might have debated the point more; especially since I had been a major supporter of Edna and Mister Zwicky getting together but I could see that this wasn’t a union Hancock would be backing anytime soon. It _was_ fair to say that Diamond City liked to pick and choose what it did and did not think was acceptable and there was hardly an available forum for these definitions to be discussed. Cut and dry; McDonough didn’t want Ghouls, Super Mutants or Synths in the city. Period. It was humans or service droids; anything that he felt he was able to corral and control.

So I let the matter drop and fell back into the role of passive tourist once more, listening to Hancock’s various stories about things that happened in the past and people he knew from way back when. I had a little giggle to myself when he made the effort to point out the Mayor’s office in the upper stands and then casually stuck his finger up at it, extending his entire arm as far as it would go and waving his hand from side to side like a windscreen wiper on full bore.

“Don’t know if he’ll be able to see that from here.” I chuckled, putting my fingers to my lips in a ladylike gesture I only ever use when I’ve been drinking. I tend to get a bit self-conscious about accidentally spitting while I’m talking; something that tends to happen after a few hundred beverages.

“Eh, you got a point…” Hancock drawled, lowering his hand and staring thoughtfully up at the brightly illuminate Mayors office. He snapped his fingers. “I got it; let’s climb up on top of the Church building and moon the bugger. _That’ll_ send a pretty clear message, don’t ya reckon?”

I snorted with laughter and gave his arm a tug, pulling him back towards town centre and away from where he could see his brothers’ office. “Fuck _no_! Knowing my luck we’d get arrested for it and Piper will write it up as an amusing little anecdote for the paper. I am _so_ not launching my criminal record in the Commonwealth with _that_ gracing the top of the list, thank you very much.” 

Hancock laughed as he brought his cigarette packet to his mouth and plucked out a smoke with his front teeth. “Heh… just you wait, Munch. I’ll make a bad girl of you, if it kills me.”

“Well, you already got me back on the smokes.” I said, taking my arm away from his so that he could light his cigarette. He offered it to me and I took a quick drag before handing it back, not wanting an entire one of my own at this time of night. My mouth had been feeling so lovely and clean from the toothpaste and now it was starting to get that slimy cigarette taste again. “To think that I’d quit for three years before you came along and ruined it all.”

Hancock raised both hands in the air as though pleading innocence. “I think maybe all the other shit you’ve gone through might have contributed somewhat, eh? I just don’t think you need to be worrying about trying to abstain from something that helps relax you when you’re going through that much stress, is all. Why make yourself all the more miserable when you don’t have to?”

I smiled and scrunched my nose at him. “Could be Goodneighbors motto right there. Coupled with a town shield that has a syringe of Med-X interlaced with a smoking joint and a ‘hang loose’ sign on the front of it. Just make sure it’s written in Latin, okay? _Everything_ sounds profound when written in Latin.”

Hancock chuckled at this but his laughter was short lived and distracted, trailing off as quickly as it had been offered up. He sucked in another breath from his cigarette, his eyes pinched in at the corners to form his not often seen expression of annoyance. I wondered if I might have inadvertently pissed him off by making a little fun at Goodneighbors expense but it would have surprised me greatly if he chose now of all times to get sensitive over his towns well-earned reputation as ‘stoner central’. Sure enough, not two seconds later he lifted his head and stared off back the way we had just come; his gaze piercing a path through buildings to alight upon that dilapidated lean-to and the boy who was now curled up beneath it.

“Wish the kid hadn’t been so stubborn…” Hancock grumbled and I could have laughed for how sulky he looked as he said it. As though he were a child who had invited another kid to play with him on the playground and the other kid had told him he smelt funny. “He’d be a hell of a lot better off in Goodneighbor. Least folks there could understand him.”

I cocked my head and stared at him sidelong, wondering if he could truly have been this naïve about the town that he ran and just how it was perceived by others in the Commonwealth. I know he was down to earth and all but he couldn’t honestly be so oblivious as to think that everyone was tough enough to ride the contrary high seas that were Goodneighbor.

“Understand him maybe. I’m not convinced he would be better off, though.”

Hancock’s head swivelled slowly to take me in; like a cartoon character giving full indication to his audience that the object of his focus was now in serious trouble. “And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?” He asked, his velvety voice taking on a menacing, silken undertone which clearly suggested I choose my next words with great care.

I knew I was in dangerous territory right then; Hancock could take any number of direct slurs to himself as a person but he sure as shit got defensive when Goodneighbors reputation as ‘the greatest town in the Commonwealth’ was questioned. Not that this was something I ever did; namely because I myself was very fond of Goodneighbor but unlike Hancock I wasn’t blind to its faults and my ego wasn’t directly tied to its success as an established colony. I took a second to condense my thoughts; a difficult feat with an exceptionally tipsy brain but worth doing if I hoped to make him see some sense in the matter. I wasn’t frightened that Hancock would take exception to my opinion and drive a shank into me over it but I _was_ genuinely worried about hurting his feelings. That is, if I was ever able to pierce that thick armour plating around his gigantic stubborn bullhead.

I heaved a sigh as I crossed my arms over my chest and looked up, meeting his eyes; making sure I had his attention. “It’s just… honey, you _know_ I love Goodneighbor. But I’m in a good position to love it. I’m friends with you and I’m chummy with a few of the guys in the Neighborhood Watch. Plus, I know how to hold my own. I’m not a young, deaf, naïve boy like Conner is.”

More of the scarring around Hancock’s eyes cinched in, showing that my point hadn’t registered and I had instead only provoked his irritation further. He gestured toward me with the hand holding his cigarette, more concerned I think with bringing me around to _his_ way of thinking than considering the point that I myself had just made. “But you see, that’s just it. We have a pension there that can support him and folks that can watch out for him.” He scowled and made a wide encompassing gesture with his arm. “Doesn’t look like too many people are watching out for him here.”

“He may be at risk of being misunderstood here at _worst_ , Hancock. But in Goodneighbor, he’s at risk of being exploited, mugged… even killed.” I said, speaking slowly and pointing to my fingers one at a time as though this would somehow distinguish between the degrees of harm that Conner was likely to encounter. “And unless one of your boys is prepared to follow him around 24/7, it’s more likely to happen than not.”

Hancock groaned, tilting his head back and stepping away from me for a minute, as though his frustration had now condensed to the point where he could no longer hold it in. “Jesus, not this shit all the time…” He ran a hand over the back of his neck before then jabbing it out towards me. “Why is everyone so convinced that Goodneighbor is nothing but a town of crooks, junkies and lowlifes?”

Now it was my turn to be exasperated and I indicated this with a scoff, arms still crossed and giving him a sceptical little open mouthed smirk. “Maybe because a large percentage of the town _is_ made up of crooks, junkies and lowlifes, John? And what else can you expect when people just walk on in through the gate without a filtering system?”

“What? So I should be running my town like Covenant? Or like this shithole? Making people jump through hoops for the privilege of just walking through the gate?!” He was truly pissed off with me now and his mood had darkened to the point that his eyes were barely visible in the midst of the angry scar tissue bunching toward the centre of his face. He was stabbing his finger at me, the ash from his cigarette cracking free and splintering without resistance against the cold night air. “That is elitist fucking _bullshit_ , Eve and I thought you of all people understood the injustice of that!”

In the past, I had found Hancock’s anger to have been intimidating; though I had hardly, if at all, even been the recipient of it. We barely argued as it was and he wasn’t an aggressive person by nature. Tough and gutsy but not angry. That night however, amidst the anxiety I felt to have his temper directed at me, I felt also a very strange sense of excitement. All that energy he had, that _passion…_ that fierce unrelenting sense of duty to protect the place that he cared so very deeply about… I felt a surge of desire burst through me; coupled with a near, irrepressible urge to grab his collar, thrust my mouth against his and shove ourselves out of sight behind the Church, where he could direct all that heated, pent up energy into a more passionate outlet.

I beat my hormones back, reminding myself that in spite of the fact that he was sexy when his hackles were up, he was also being unfair and unreasonable and not showing me the least bit of respect by refusing to calm down enough to listen to what I had to say. I went with this instead, bringing my brows down into my own half-assed version of anger and gave him a very pointed look from beneath the still damp tresses of my bangs.

“Okay, you can just go and calm down right now, John Hancock.” I said, keeping my voice composed and steady, with only the slightest edge to indicate that I was _not_ going to put up with his nonsense. “This is _not_ a personal attack. I am just trying to help you to understand why a young fellow like Conner back there might have trepidations about going into town. And as lovely as your ideal is about anti-discrimination, the harsh reality is that there are always going to be people who take advantage of your generosity. And _that_ is what allows these kinds of scumbags to get into Goodneighbor in the first place and once there, they undermine any other kindnesses you seek to do.”

My strategy had worked and Hancock seemed to deflate a little; cut off at the pass before he was able to coast downhill and ride an easy slope of anger which would gain momentum until the point where it was unable to be headed off at all. He looked determined to stay cross with me however and marshalled up some small reserve of petulance from his stockpile and said; “So what? I’ve let a whole bunch of crooks take over the streets of Goodneighbor because I’m a soft-cock? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No. Not because you’re soft.” I said gently, refusing to let him so much as suggest that I would ever judge or look down at him. “Because you’re fair. And _decent_ enough to give them the benefit of the doubt _._ And they abuse that. Just like they abuse all the weak and the wounded who try to find a safe place in Goodneighbor. Who look to you to protect them.” And now I felt myself getting angry; thinking of all those poor, powerless people that the Commonwealth in its entirety seemed content to leave to their own devices. In my time, there were places and support for those people in our community who might have been either too old to continue taking care of themselves, too ill or who were afflicted with a mental health diagnosis. Here in the future, I sometimes got the impression that these individuals were often plopped into the ‘too hard basket’. Keeping yourself alive was hard enough without trying to take care of so called ‘dead weight’. And the laziness of this was what pissed me off more than anything else. “ _They’re_ the ones who deserve your protection, Hancock. _Their_ liberty is what matters, not the rights and freedoms of a bunch of assholes who don’t respect you or anyone else in that town!”

Hancock pinched his lips together tight and peered off to the side; maintaining a thin balance of control over his emotions, I suppose. At length, he said; “So, in your mind… I’ve just… failed as a mayor, have I?”

I knew that tone of voice. A slight barb of my reasoning had managed to pierce through his iron plating and his feelings had been scraped raw by it. And this was _not_ what I wanted in the least because he didn’t deserve to be made to feel bad. Or that he had failed.

“You haven’t failed as mayor.” I said softly, unfolding my arms from around my middle and taking two steps forward to bridge the space that had opened up between us. I took up his hand and squeezed it in the palm of my own. “You’re a good mayor. And an even better man, at that. But you could be a _great_ mayor. You just need to make up your mind about what kind of town you want to run.” I tilted my head towards him gently, trying to get him to look at me but he continued to stare off into nothingness; his oval face poised in a perfect rictus of despondency. “Do you want it to be a place where people like Conner can come and feel safe? Because right now, if you simply open up the door and let everyone in with just a warning, who knows what you might be letting through? A murderer? A rapist? A _child molester_?”

This was enough to make him twist his face back towards me. “If any of that shit ever happens in Goodneighbor, I fucking handle it, Munch! People know that if they do the wrong thing and get off side that they’ll be fucking shot _dead_ for it!”

I squeezed his hand again, making sure as to keep my voice temperate as I replied; trying to lure him back into a state of calm. “Yeah maybe, but _after_ the fact. You ever heard that old saying; ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure? Well, I think that applies to Goodneighbor. If you want the decent and the deserving to be safe, then perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to be just the slightest bit more discerning.”

He gave a disgusted snort. “Yeah. Yeah, all right then. ‘Weed the chaff from the wheat’ and all that? Fucking bullshit is why the Ghouls got kicked out of Diamond City in the first place. That prejudicial crap is _not_ how I want my town to be run!”

“Okay, but can you see that perhaps you might have inadvertently gone to the _other_ extreme, in trying so hard to avoid being unfair and discriminatory?” I asked, stroking my thumb over the back of his fingers; trying still to relax him. The tendons in his hand remained as stiff and as unyielding as tree branches, as I suppose he still wasn’t in the mood to relinquish his irritation. “That you might be so accommodating and so liberal that people have taken advantage of that? For god’s sake, when I was doing all that stuff as the Silver Shroud, I shot a guy who killed a mom and her child and a dealer that was pushing Chems to kids. They were _both_ operating out of Goodneighbor, right under your… nose hole. They weren’t the least bit worried about you. All your ‘liberties’ allowed them to get away with that shit!”

It was harsh and definitely hurtful but it had worked. Hancock’s anger seemed to be ebbing somewhat, and when next he spoke, his tone had taken on a down-trodden, almost pleading nuance; as though he were too exhausted to keep going with this debate but still had some determination to win it. “If I had known about it, I woulda shot ‘em dead myself, Munch.”

He released my hand and took to pacing around a little, puffing at his smoke, staring to the ground as though beseeching answers that might crawl up from between the sods and reveal themselves. After a few moments of this, he looked back to me and his expression was so truly sad now that it made my heart ache for having seen it.  “Is this… is that what you’ve always thought? Because I thought you liked Goodneighbor. I thought you got what I was trying to do there.”

I put my hands to my chest; so that he could see through my gestures just how I felt, if my words somehow failed to convey it accurately. “Honey, I _love_ Goodneighbor and I love almost… seventy percent of the people there. _You_ most of all. It’s the bad eggs who are spoiling the rest. And I _do_ get what you are doing there and it’s wonderful but if I’m going to be honest with you; it isn’t sustainable. I _know_ you and I know that most of all, the people you want to help most of all are the disadvantaged, the destitute and the powerless. And in a town like yours, where just anyone can walk through the door, the sad reality is, is that they are unsafe to live there.”

He was quiet for a moment and then he murmured, almost in an offhand manner; “You know those warehouses we cleaned out? My plan was… I wanted to use them for housing, to support some of those folks…”

As though he needed to justify his perceived failures to me. As though he desperately needed me to see that he _wasn’t_ just ignoring the problem; that he _was_ genuinely trying to help these people. I felt another strong wave of affection for him; for this tiny lapse in confidence that he had shown me. This momentary need for someone else to validate him, to assure him that yes, his intentions were good. I gave him a smile, tilting my head and wishing he would come close enough again for me to take his hand so that I could soothe him once more.

“I know, sweetheart. I know you’re trying. But it’s all just ice skating uphill so long as you just keep letting people in indiscriminately.” I gave him a look, hoping now that he might be able to hear just what I had been trying to say; without taking premature offense. “If it keeps going this way, you’re going to end up with a town just chock full of crooks, with the poor, troubled folks beaten down daily for what they’ve got. And I _know_ that’s not what you want.”

Hancock was silent for a long time, his gaze directed towards the ground and cigarette left to burn down to the filter, unaided between his fingers. I felt my eyes crease up, worried to see him frozen in place like this and I approached him, running my hand down his upper arm.

“Please don’t be upset…” I whispered, thinking I would cry if I thought that I had broken his heart with my words. “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings.”

“I’m not upset… I’m just… fucking ashamed.” He raised his head and it was with a wave of shock that I saw the wetness that had congealed under his eyes. Oh my fucking God, if I hadn’t just gone and actually reduced John Hancock, badass mayor of Goodneighbor to tears… He tilted his chin up and sniffed deeply, eyes moving away from my own in that typical way that tough guys have of avoiding the desire to play into their own emotions. “I’ve been walking down the same path that Vic paved all those years ago and didn’t look down long enough to realize…” He paused at this and then shook his head, some of that earlier anger seeping back in. “Jesus… I… I haven’t been any better than McDonough, have I? I keep telling myself I care more but… I haven’t been looking closely enough between the layers. All those folks that must’ve done gone slipped through the cracks… so many helpless people… driven out into the Wastes… killed.” He rubbed his fingers over his eyes now, devastation taking precedence over that resentment. “McDonough drives out the Ghouls and I drive out the helpless… Christ, we’re a fucking pair, aren’t we?”

“You are _nothing_ like McDonough.” I said crossly, squeezing my hand around his arm to elicit his attention. I felt like a monster for driving him to this place, but there was no way in hell I was going to let him hitch hike the rest of the journey into an inescapable pit of self-loathing. “Unlike _him_ , you’re capable of change. And you care enough to make the effort and humble enough to admit that you need to. Don’t start hating yourself over this, okay? You should be proud. Your heart is the thing that draws all those people in Goodneighbor to you, that makes them all love you so much.”

“Yeah, but it ain’t enough, is it?” He stated, flicking the now empty filter of his cigarette away and then placing his free hand firm against his hip. “I don’t wanna be running a town based purely around an ‘only the strong survive’ mentality. We need to start moving away from the idea that folks’ve gotta handle their own shit.” He met my eyes now, his expression holding a kind of steely reassurance. “I mean, me and the Nine we had to fight our way up to the top of the town but now we’re there, surely we can set a better example for everyone else. Start practicing some real kindness you know; giving the little guy’s the leg up they need.”

His tone sounded that slightest bit more optimistic and I could feel all those tight cords of tension in my chest relax, so that I visibly shrank down about two inches into my puppy slippers. I smiled and distributed another rub to his arm. 

“That’s right. It’s not weak to need help occasionally, after all. Just like you with that kid tonight. You’re kind enough _and_ tough enough to run a town charitably, Hancock. You don’t need to keep living under this shadow of fear anymore; the idea that if you show other people your softness, you’ll be knocked square off of your perch.” I reached up to pat his chest, much like I might have done to Dogmeat when he needed comforting. “You can be tough and soft at the same time, you know. I mean, you’re like that with me and I respect you more than just about anyone I know.”

Hancock raised his brow at me. “Just about”?

I shrugged unapologetically. “Well… you know I’ve got a major hard on for Nick.”

“Don’t we all?” Hancock chuckled, though his face quickly returned to a look of deep introspection and he made a little scoffing sound behind his lips. “Just how damn comfortable was I getting in that town if I wasn’t able to see the writing on the wall? For years I’ve just been living on the good feelings folks had about me; the benefit of being a step up from Vic.” He shook his head, looking bemused by himself. “But that’s just fucking lazy. Being decent to people ain’t enough anymore, I really gotta start pulling shit together. Get my head outta the clouds. So folks like Conner have got a place to go to if they haven’t got anywhere else that meets their needs.”

“Once you put your mind to it, John, it’d be a cakewalk.” I said, honestly amazed that it had taken less than a full ten minutes for him to come around to a whole other way of thinking. It was difficult, I know, to be told that you might be able to improve the game that you had been playing for so long without comment but Hancock had the fact that he wasn’t arrogant in his favour. “You’re clever enough and you’re strong enough to pull it off. And I’d help you every step of the way, you know that.”

He chuckled good naturedly and finally flashed his own little smile in my direction. “Makes the whole thing seem a lot less scary, Munch.” He paused again, looking as though he were mulling over something and then added; “One thing… would _you_ live in Goodneighbor the way it was now? Without any changes to the way things are managed?”

I had been honest with him thus far, so I saw no reason to try to be anything other than transparent now. I cared and respected him far too much to try to handle him and he was much too clever to be fooled by it anyway. “Honestly? If I was by myself; yes. So long as you were there and I stayed in good with the Neighborhood lads. But once I have Shaun back with me?” I gave a seconds pause and then, realizing that this in itself was disrespectful, to pretend that I needed time to consider, plunged ahead. “Probably not…  I’d be too worried to let him outside to play, you know?”

Hancock took a moment to ponder this and I got the impression that it was this more than anything else that was sinking beneath the surface. “Well… that really shines a light on it for me.” He twisted his lip a little, his head contracting toward the same direction and peered up at me. The lights of the street were bright enough now to illuminate the edges where his pupils and irises met and I thought how strangely fitting that I could discern this now; in his own moment of self-deliberation.  “Thanks, Munch. You’ve given me a lot to uh, chew over.”

“Are you okay?”

He nodded and gave me another light smile, proof as usual that his truest most nature was to be accommodating towards others; even if they offered to him the very things he wished most to avoid. “Yeah… just a lot to take on board, you know? I’ve gotten used to people in Goodneighbor kissing my ass for so long that it’s sorta confronting to take on an alternative perspective. Confronting… but helpful.”

“I’m honest with you because I respect you.” I said, leaning towards him so that I felt all too much like a lecturing parent; explaining the rationale of their actions to a child they had just attempted to straighten out. “I’d keep my yap buttoned if I didn’t give a shit.”

“I know. And that’s why I take what you say on board. You know what you’re talking about…” His smile split wider across his face and he chuckled indulgently to himself. “Heh… bet that used to drive your old-man nuts.”

Now I was laughing as well, because you wouldn’t think a guy who had never been married could hit the husband-wife dynamic so squarely on the head. “You should have seen what he was like when we got Codsworth. Poor Nate could never win a debate after that! He just shut up and kept his face buried in the newspaper.”

The tension absolved, we shared in a laugh over this. I felt a little giddy actually, that I had dared to broach this ‘near taboo’ topic of conversation with Hancock and that it had been reasonably well received. I wondered if some good might come of it; whether he might actually return to Goodneighbor with a degree of motivation and turn things around for all those troubled persons there who so desperately needed a helping hand out of the gutter. Having lived like this for some time himself, I think Hancock was dualistically hindered by the desire he must have felt to be saved and the reality that he had been forced simply to help himself. I can’t imagine he was such a sore person however that he would then expect everyone to do the same thing. He needed to understand that he was an exceptional man in this regard; that not everyone had the drive or the courage to overthrow a fascist and win people’s hearts. Some folks were simply too brow-beaten to bring themselves up off of their knees; let alone all the way to the top of a town. I think he got it though. Stereotype it may be, Hancock had a soft-heart braced on all sides by a tough exterior. His strength came from the fact that he was unafraid to let that compassionate side of him show, especially towards those that needed help. I think he would be just fine if he were to bring that side of him to bat in Goodneighbor. He had the respect of enough people to make it work.

“Well, I think we’ve tooled around out here long enough.” Hancock said, breaking through my thoughts and giving the back of his neck a rub, as though it might have been stiffening up. “Wanna scram?”

The mere mention of how long we had been dawdling put me in mind of how late it probably was and I stretched my arms up above my head, offering up a lion like yawn to the stars. “I’m thinkin’ it’s roughly around sleep-sleep time.” I groaned then to myself, realizing what I had forgotten to do before leaving the Inn. “Oh damn… I’ll have to make up some hot water bottles for tonight, otherwise everyone’s toes are going to freeze. Well, except for yours of course.” I added, chuckling as I took up his arm again and letting myself be led along like the tail of a kite. “They’ll be wrapped tightly around MacCready’s all night long.”

“Mmhmm.” Hancock murmured, curling his lips up into a big, beaming smile that most men would offer if they were about to get themselves some. “Maybe if I’m lucky, _he’ll_ be the big spoon tonight and keep _my_ ass warm.”

I laughed and leaned into his side, causing him to wobble slightly off balance for a moment. “Hey, can you let me know ahead of time before MacCready ‘warms up your ass?’ I don’t think I need an image like that stuck in my head for all eternity.”

He turned his head to wink at me. “If you’re jealous Munch, you are _more_ than welcome to get into my sleeping bag instead. Much rather curl up around your toasty little tush than MacCready’s loaded cannon.”

There was no way in hell that I could keep from blushing at this; mainly because the image of Hancock spooned around me with his pelvis virtually cupping my ass popped into my head with the sort of clarity that shouldn’t be possible when you’re drunk. The worst part was, is that I was more than a little keen to accept; it was _freezing_ that night and with such a clear sky, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if there was a frost in the morning. Being wrapped up nice and snuggly in someone’s arms would feel _so_ good for a change and if it wasn’t for the fact that I couldn’t guarantee it would stop at that, I might have gunned for it. Instead, I did my stupid little avoidant classic Evelyn Hallows thing and pulled a face, working a joke out of it.

“Ugh, I forgot to watch and make sure he didn’t eat any of those Yum Yum Devilled Eggs. We might all be sleeping out in the hallway tonight anyway.”

Thank goodness that Hancock had such healthy self-esteem because he didn’t look so much as dejected by my avoidance and simply joined in my laughter as we stepped around the corner and passed the counter of the butcher stall. He looked as though he was about to follow up with something, when movement ahead of us caught both our attentions and he pulled me up short, taking one step slightly over and in front of me so that his shoulder hindered my view.

Three guys, not much older than teenagers from what I could tell, had been leaning up against one of the building walls to the left and now took up onto their feet, moving towards us. Every hair on my body suddenly stood to attention and a pulse of adrenaline shot down into my heart. They had clearly been waiting for us for whatever the reason and judging from their posture and the upward tilt of their chins, their intentions weren’t pleasant.

“See? What’d I tell ya?” Said the tallest of the three; a lean, dark haired fellow who had a kind of swagger that seemed to suggest confidence. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen, I guessed. “I told ya there was a Ghoul wandering around town!”

Hancock mugged a little at this, glancing over his shoulder with a curious expression as though searching for the ‘so-called’ Ghoul. The boys continued to stare at him, their eyes alight with excitement as though he was some exotic fish they had yanked up in their net. And were trying to figure out how to fillet.

“Fuckin’ A…” Another of them chimed in. He was shorter than the first fellow, with a thick jaw and similarly thick shoulder’s; shaped kind of like a human bulldog. “This is the first time I ever seen one. Shit… you’re a fucking ugly son of a bitch, aren’t ya?”

“Takes one to know one, friend.” Hancock replied smoothly, flashing a smile that was the very definition of altruistic. Sometimes I think he actually enjoyed confrontations like this; it was just another opportunity for him to laud his wit.

The third teen burst out laughing and I wondered to myself why he was standing so far behind the other two, when he was in fact the largest of the lot. He looked like he had just walked off of a college football ground, where he had landed himself through a hard earned sports scholarship. Blond, heavily muscled and broad; he was only slightly smaller than Vadim. Kid looked like he was in training to become a Super Mutant Behemoth and was taking great strides in achieving it.

“Holy fucking shit, _it talks!_ ” He crowed, slapping a hand to his upper thigh as though he might double up in mirth at this ‘amazing’ spectacle. “Would you check this shit out?!”

What annoying crap. Teenager boys always tended to rub me up the wrong way; I think mainly because I had so many bad experiences with them when I was a teen myself. Call it residual trauma if you will but I always got on the defensive ultra-quick whenever youths got up in my face and now was no exception. Especially when they were acting like a bunch of fuckwits towards someone I cared about.

“Of course he fucking talks, you stupid little asswipe.” I snapped, wishing that I hadn’t started to tremble as I said it. Way too much adrenaline… my body reminding me that young people weren’t safe, that this situation would inevitably lead to me having to defend myself and maybe even be hurt. “What’d you think he was going to do? Grunt back to you in your own stupid retard language?!”

I had never told Hancock about my bad experiences with teenagers but I think he might just have realized that the shudders racing through my arms were not just on account of the cold and he leant down to whisper in my ear, the fingers of his free hand reaching over to wrap around my own.

“Hey, don’t let it steam you up. They’re just showin’ off for each other. It’s what stupid boys do.”

I glanced over at him, thinking that this was surprisingly liberal for a guy who usually wouldn’t tolerate this sort of nonsense. “And you think _I_ put up with too much shit…” I muttered, squeezing back against his fingers and feeling a rush of security flow into me, as though he had been directing it through my skin by his touch alone.

The teens were smirking at me now, clearly unintimidated by my outburst. Well, I mean, why would they be? I may have been wearing Hancock’s badass coat, but underneath I had plaid pyjamas and puppy dog slippers. I hardly fit the image of a veritable badass whose wrath was to be feared throughout the land.

“Nice girlfriend you got for yourself there, Ghoul.” Snickered the bulldog shaped one; sharing a look with his buddies that only they knew how to interpret. “What are you babe, one of those, whaddya call ‘em… Shufflefuckers?”

I raised my brow at this, my anxiety decreasing somewhat as confusion took precedence in my thoughts. “Shufflefucker?”

Hancock gave an annoyed sounding grunt. “It’s a charming little misnomer for Smoothskins who sleep with Ghouls. Definitely ain’t somethin’ you should be saying to a lady.”

“Ain’t no lady who goes around fucking dead guys.” The tall youth shot back and there was something now aggressive in his stance; a subversive anger that suggested their mocking was only a thin cover for their true agenda. “We don’t want your kind here in Diamond City, freaks.”

“Wanna step on over here and take a shot at throwing us out?” Hancock drawled softly; his voice hissing a warning as clear as a rattle snakes’ tail. His smooth, unaffected expression hadn’t changed but I could read the danger, clear as mile high burning letters, flashing behind his eyes.

They didn’t take so much as a step closer but the big fella, the one who reminded me of a football player, started jabbing his finger in the air like an aggressive accountant, punching out numbers on a calculator that had wronged him somehow. “If you wanna fucking go, Ghoul, you get your rotten ass over here! I ain’t wastin’ my breath marchin over to you!”

I marvelled at just how suddenly this had come out of the blue and tried to remember if Hancock and I had done anything to anyone during our walk around the city. Nothing came to mind, though judging from the way that the kids were mugging and swaying, it was obvious they had been drinking. They’d probably been psyching themselves up to this all evening; maybe even since we emptied out the bar with our dancing earlier on. I couldn’t recall having seen them myself but perhaps one of the patrons had been complaining about it and their kids had decided to ‘take back the night’ or something to the effect.

It was especially tiresome because I wasn’t in the mood for a fight; not even a verbal one. I wanted one night, just _one_ night where we didn’t have to feel like we were on edge all the time.

I thought I might take a crack at diplomacy, see if we could just end this without having to resort to a big, all out barmy, which would probably have all the guards involved and most likely end with Hancock and I having to sleep outside the city walls, curled up around the sports statue for warmth.

“Come on guys,” I said, forcing my quivery lips up into the most charming smile I could possibly manage; given that I felt about as far from charming as a mange covered mole rat. “It’s been a long day and we _really_ just wanna go to bed. I’m sorry if you think we bothered you in some way but we really don’t want any trouble. Could you please just let us past?”

Hancock was giving me a look that plainly said that he was disappointed in me and I honestly felt disappointed in myself but I just could not be fucking bothered. I wasn’t always high off of my head like he was; my energy levels had a natural depletion and recharge system and right now, they were running as close to empty as was possible. I figured if my shame lingered on into the daylight, Hancock and I could march out first thing in the morrow and give the stupid little twats a good smacking. So long as a good night’s sleep fell somewhere in between.

To my surprise, the teens actually stopped mouthing for a few moments and glanced at one another, seeming to consider what I was saying. The one in the middle gave a nasty little smile and I felt my heart drop, thinking that they were about to start making fun and carrying on again but then they stepped off to the right, clearing the path towards the inn.

“Yeah, all right. Whatever.” He said and spread one arm leisurely, as if he were a professional chauffer leading his charge into a waiting car. Hancock gave them a reproachful look as we slowly approached, keeping a firm hold of my arm and positioning himself so that he passed closest to them.

“Thankyou.” I said, speaking plainly without an inflection of actual gratitude in my tone. I didn’t want them thinking I was ingratiating myself to them or anything of the sort. I was still mad as hell from the way that they spoke to Hancock and more determined than ever to win back my dignity in the morning.

The big footballer gave a leisurely wave of his hand. “Hey, no probs. Got a question for ya though.”

“You might wanna rethink asking it, _friend.”_ Hancock said and kept on moving forward, not giving me the option to reply even if I wanted. I heard a chuckle from over my shoulder and then one of the teens lips were right up against my ear.

“We were just wondering how bad your cunt must stink after you fuck a Ghoul. Thinkin’ we can find out for ourselves though, eh?”

And then, to my absolute disbelief and horror, I felt two hands reach up under Hancock’s coat and yank my pyjama bottoms down to my ankles. The cold air hit my bare skin and fingers started to ghost their way up my thigh, landing on the outside of my panties. I swung my hand down to bat the groping digits away when the night was splintered by the most thunderous sounding ‘CRACK’ from just behind my head.

The fingers whipped away and I turned to see the great big footballer staggering backwards, clutching at his nose. Hancock was between us, his fist raised above his shoulder and then he was lunging forward, the fist coming down and down again, smacking the teenager in the face hard and fast and brutal.

Now, I had seen Hancock kicking some serious ass out in the wasteland but he had most often had a firearm or at least a knife and he tended to kick out at enemies if he was required to use his body. But _this_ … this was something else entirely.

I had never seen him have a fistfight with anyone before and it was somehow far more vicious and unforgiving than if he had pulled a gun. The guy he was railing was probably twice his size but I would have put caps on Hancock any day of the week; especially when he had a full head of steam up. He gave the youth no time to recover and his punches were slamming into him, right jabs only but full force and _hard._ He used his left hand to keep a hold of the front of the kids’ sweater, driving him down onto the ground and continuing his assault without pause. I should have been grateful for his defending me and I was but the attack was so bloody and vicious that I started to feel frightened that he would kill the stupid boy in his anger.

“Hancock, stop!” I yelled, reaching down and yanking up my pyjama pants from the ground, snapping the elastic back snugly around my waist. “Don’t go and kill the stupid little prick, he’s not worth the jail time!”

Hancock paused at the sound of my voice and turned to look over his shoulder at me, his black eyes shining furiously in the light from the surrounding lanterns. His right fist was almost entirely sheathed in blood and the teens face looked like someone had scrambled roadkill and then tried to put it unsuccessfully back together. The other two boys were frozen in shock and I gathered from the useless expressions on their faces that this might have been the very first time that someone had actually retaliated against them. Oh Jesus, we were gonna be in _so_ much trouble over this, I could already tell…

“If someone doesn’t teach him _now_ how to respect women, what the fuck do you think he’s gonna be like when he’s an adult?!” Hancock snapped and his face looked so completely furious that it made me feel a little weak in the knees. He tugged the boy up by his sweater, glared into his mangled face and hissed to him, very slowly. “You _ever_ touch her again and I’ll peel the skin off your fucking bones. You got it?”

The boy wasn’t in any position to reply and I couldn’t even see for myself whether he could so much as nod but I guess Hancock was satisfied that his message had gotten through because he released his grip on the kids sweater. He went to stand up and had only one knee off of the ground when one of the other two boys decided now might be a good time to come to his buddies delayed rescue and he swung something straight at Hancock’s head. Something that glinted silver in the light it caught, just seconds before it smashed directly into the back of Hancock’s hat, knocking it clean off of his head.

Kid had bought a fucking crowbar to the fight. Probably only a foot in length but swung with enough force to knock Hancock straight forward onto his face. The blow had been glancing and he might have gotten up from it but the second blow that followed it, smashed so hard against his skull that I saw his skin split from the impact.

I was already moving by then, not fast enough to stop the second blow but fast enough to prevent the third. I had all the knowledge to disarm a person; had done it a hundred times out in the Wasteland and enough times in my training to do it with my eyes closed but in my fear, I panicked. All I could see was that crowbar striking Hancock in the head; the blood already pouring out and I was screaming, terrified that I was too late, that he was already dead. My overwhelming urge was to get between him and whatever attacks came next and nothing mattered so much as that; not even my own skin and bones.

I threw myself down, not going for the guy with the crowbar but landing instead on Hancock. I wrapped myself around his head, pressing my stomach down against where I knew the wound was and curling my chest and legs so tight around either side of his face that I couldn’t imagine a tornado could have torn me loose. I felt the crowbar come smacking down hard against my spine and the blow sent roaring pain through every related tier in my body. But it was okay; it was fine because I could survive this. It hadn’t hit Hancock, so there was still a chance that he could survive this, that he was still alive. So long as I kept him from further injury, there was still a chance…

The two boys must have frothed themselves up into a pure pack mentality because they didn’t stop their assault, even when they saw that a woman had gotten between them and their intended prey. Their boots battered my sides, trying to reach Hancock but striking only my ribs, my face and my breasts. One of them even kicked me in the ass, trying to dislodge me but I held on all the tighter for it. Let them try to degrade me if they wanted to but I wouldn’t let them get to him. I couldn’t let someone I cared about die in front of me again, not again…

“STOP IT!!” I screamed, wondering even as I did whether my shouts might finally alert someone to our situation. The guards must have surely caught wind of what was going on by now. I could only pray they would arrive before I myself was knocked unconscious, which would leave Hancock helpless to their attacks. “STOP IT, HE’S OUT!! HE’S _OUT_ , GODDAMMIT!! YOU’LL KILL HIM!!”

“Get out of the fucking way, you stupid bitch!!” One of the teens yelled, I don’t know which one. I felt his hand in my hair, yanking hard against my scalp, trying to hurl me up and away from Hancock so they could continue their assault against him. I held on all the tighter, bringing the back of his head taut against my stomach, thinking the pressure might help to stem the bleeding in the same gesture.

I had to try and get this asshole to let go of my hair though, otherwise he was liable to yank tufts out from my scalp. I resisted reaching for where the hair was pulling tightest and instead kept one arm wrapped fast around Hancock’s head, bringing my right elbow back and upward as hard as I could, driving into the youth’s groin with all the strength I had available to me. True to the nature of most men who have found themselves receiving a knock to the nads, the boy fell back onto his ass and curled up like a pill bug, cupping both hands around his junk.

Having been yanked up and away from the ground had given the remaining youth an opening and he charged in now, aiming a vicious kick for Hancock’s face. I twisted to the side as much as I could and the tip of his boot whizzed right past Hancock’s forehead and glanced off of my cheekbone instead. It throbbed like no one’s business and my jaw clanked together, catching my tongue between my teeth. I tasted blood and the red which now dribbled down my chin must have metaphorically seeped across my eyes as well because my whole vision suddenly swam with it. A dull roar echoed through my mind and the last of my reservations stuttered out of clarity, leaving only blind, raging anger in its place.

“STOP IT, YOU _ASSHOLE_!!” I roared, taking a great swipe with my open palm and grabbing a handful of the boys’ pants. I tensed all the muscles in my arm and reefed upwards as hard and as fast as I could manage, pulling his foot clean off of the ground and sending him toppling spectacularly onto the back of his head. It was my one chance, with all of them down and I had to take it _now_ ; I had to incapacitate him while I had the chance, before he could recover.

Trusting that Hancock would be safe for just a moment, I placed him gently back against the ground and then launched myself over him, towards the fallen youth. He barely had time to glance up before I was on top of him, my mind screaming instructions and my fists following suit, rolling punches hard and fast into his face; first one cheek and then the other, forcing his head to rock from left to right with great rapidity. I didn’t have Hancock’s strength or brutality but I was trained enough to know where to strike and soon enough, the boy didn’t have the sense to try to fight back.

I heard a shuffling sound from behind me and spun about to see the one that I had bashed in the balls, climbing back to his feet, the crowbar clutched in his fist. I didn’t give myself a chance to think about it and threw myself towards him now. He swung the crowbar but I was ready for him, striking my left arm out to block the attack at his inside wrist, clasping my fingers around to pin the limb in place. I then struck out with the heel of my right hand, aiming for his nose, which shattered with a deep, satisfying crack; like a branch snapping under a blanket.

The boy shrieked like an animal caught in a trap and reeled back from the strike, both eyes slamming shut in direct response to the pain. His vision hindered, I swapped my hands over and stepped around to his side, using my right arm to swing his own down and around into a harmless loop in front of his body. Having redirected his energy off to the side, I now had a clear line to his ribcage and I let fly; my thoughts flying as fast as my fists, egging myself on, screaming ‘ _Keep going, keep going, keep GOING! Do_ not _let these kids get back up – TAKE THEM OUT, NOW!!’_

My fists spun over and atop each other, pounding down his side before I turned myself just enough to smack hard into his kidneys, pushing a kick behind his knees that sent him stumbling down onto the ground. I moved in on him and planted my foot on his lower back and raised one fist behind his head. Though he couldn’t see it, he must have felt my energy and knew what I fully intended to do.

But I told him anyway, just in case he was too stupid to get the hint. “You get up and I’ll put you straight back down, you piece of shit!! Now _STAY THERE!!”_

It was then of course, having already been forced to resolve the situation myself, that a Diamond City security guard decided to loaf on up around the corner. Which would have been helpful; if I hadn’t been the one standing there with my fist reefed up in the air, surrounded by a bunch of bloody, mangled, mostly unconscious men.

“Hey, hey! Just what the hell is going on here?!” The guard yelled, jogging up to us with his swatter raised, which he then extended towards me. He used it to push me off and away from the boy that I was pinning down. “Get off of him, come on, get outta there.”

“This psycho bitch and her freakin’ feral just went fucking nuts on us!” The boy I had been pinning down said as he climbed painfully up onto his knees, clutching a hand to the curve of his lower back. I shot him a look that could have killed if I had been capable of loading shells into my ears.

“Oh… don’t you even try it.” I hissed, making my way back over to Hancock and kneeling down beside him. His eyes were shut but he was still breathing, thank God. I could see his chest rising and falling slowly. The ground beneath his head was dark with blood however, so his head wound must have been bleeding quite profusely. Afraid that his neck might be injured, I pressed both hands to either side of his face, sinking my fingers down under his chin to provide a kind of frame. Might have already been too late for preventative measures but it was better than nothing. “These _brats_ started in on _us_. They started runnin’ their smart mouths and then they went and grabbed me. We were acting in self-defence.”

“You shouldn’t even be bringing a Ghoul here, bitch!” The kid screamed, crouching down beside the guy who Hancock had quite literally beaten to a pulp and shaking his shoulder. “Why don’t you just drag your scrag whore ass back to Goodneighbor and take the fuckin’ shuffler with ya?!”

The guard pointed a finger sternly toward the youth. “Okay, that’s enough!” He snapped, waiting a moment to ensure that the boy would remain quiet before turning his attention back towards me. “Now, miss. You and the Ghoul are coming with me until I can get this whole mess straightened out.”

I nodded with relief, glad that someone was finally helping us but not willing to move until Hancock had been seen by a doctor first. I wasn’t feeling too crash hot myself; I had aching spots all over my body from where I had been kicked and my cheekbone throbbed furiously from where the boys boot had collected it. I didn’t think that it was broken but it was probably going to bloom into a fantastic looking bruise overnight.

“We’re staying at the Dugout Inn,” I explained to the guard as he knelt next to each of the two unconscious boys and checked their pulses one after another. My voice sounded a little slurred on account of the injury to my tongue. My mouth had a taste in it as though I had been sucking a handful of pennies. “But I need to get my friend to Dr Sun before we head back. One of these little assholes hit him on the back of the head a few times with a crowbar.”

“I ain’t taking you back to the Dugout Inn, lady. You and your friend are goin’ into lock up until I can sit down and properly go through what happened with you.” The guard said carelessly, climbing to his feet and wiping his bloodied fingers off on his trouser leg. “These kids need to be seen by the doctor first.”

My jaw dropped until the point where I thought it might actually unhinge and fall off of my face. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I had just told this guy that Hancock had been struck on the back of the head with a metal implement, _twice,_ and he was prioritizing these two little pricks who had simply been force fed their just deserts?

I figured maybe he hadn’t understood the severity of Hancock’s injury; perhaps he thought I had been referring to one of the boys instead. So, I gave him the benefit of the doubt and said, more slowly this time; “No, no you have that confused, officer. These kids attacked us _first._ They’ve been punched up a couple of times but it was mainly around the face; not anywhere near the temples or the back of the head. It’s my friend here who’s been hit with the crowbar. He’s bleeding really, really badly and his spine might be impacted. He should be priority to see the doctor.”

The guard raised his brows at me and his voice changed to a tone that left no doubt in my mind that he was treating me as though I were stupid. “Yeah. I heard you the first time, lady. Medical priority is awarded to Diamond City residents, _not_ drift ins and especially not Ghouls.”

My temper started rising once more and I narrowed my eyes, taking one hand from the side of Hancock’s face and bringing it under his head, pressing down onto the wound as hard as I dared. Blood was leaking out at an alarming rate and my heart started pounding harder. “Medical priority isn’t given based on residential status! It’s awarded based on the severity of the injury and my friends injury is _life threatening!_ If you don’t get the doctor to come and see him right away, he could die!”

“I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do to expedite the process,” The guard said, not sounding to me the least bit sorry. I think a part of him might actually have been enjoying this. Not all Diamond City guards were assholes; in fact, most of them were downright pleasant and even a little flirty at times. I think it might very well have been just my poor luck to have run into the only one with a genuine and deeply entrenched xenophobia. “Now, either you help me carry this deadwood over with me over to lock up, or… we do this the hard way.”

And he demonstrated just what the hard way was by reaching down and grabbing Hancock by the ankle. To my horror, he started to drag him along the ground like an old sack of laundry that he couldn’t be bothered picking up. Hancock’s head slipped out of my hands and rolled onto the ground, leaving a trail of blood in his wake as the guard lugged him in the direction of the lock up. I snagged a hold of Hancock’s shirt, pulling back as tight as I could and shoving my legs down underneath his head to try to keep it stable.

“Wait – _stop!_ What the hell are you doing?! He’s had a head injury, you can’t just drag him like that!” I yelled, which slowed the guards movements enough for me to take Hancock’s head back into my hands again and straighten him back up. The movement had aggravated the wound to his skull and I could feel the blood starting to leak through the fabric of my pyjama pants. The Dugout Inn was probably around four of five buildings away and with the music playing they might not have been able to hear me, but I tried calling out anyway; thinking that one of them might have been outside having a smoke break. "NICK!!  _NICK,_ _HELP US!!_ "

But no one arrived to help us. The sound mustn't have been travelling and with Vadim having turned the radio up as loud as he had... I doubted even Nick or Dogmeat's exceptional hearing could pick up on my screams through the thick, insulated walls surrounding the bar. It had been designed to keep out the noise of a giant baseball loving crowd so that the athletes were able to focus before and after a game. My girlish shrieks weren't likely to penetrate so much as a jot.

“You know the score.” The guard said, using his swatter to tap the ground impatiently.

I could see I had no choice. Harm minimization was the key here and acting stubborn towards the guard was only going to see Hancock further injured. Without the others here to support me, I couldn’t hope to knuckle down and stay put until the doctor came along. The guard had already shown that he was fully prepared to haul Hancock down the street with all the tenderness that might be shown to a rotten animal carcass. All I could do was try to lessen the damage that might have otherwise occurred by assisting in carrying Hancock to where we needed to go. 

“I’m coming along, I will, I just – please, you need to help me lift him. If we don’t carry him right, it could do serious damage.” I said, reaching over to pluck Hancock’s hat off of the ground and placing it on his chest.

“And wouldn’t _that_ be a fucking pity.” I heard the youth say from behind me. I was about to turn and tell the stupid brat to fuck off but the guard beat me to it, pointing a finger back in his direction.

“Hey, don’t think I’ve forgotten about the three of you. You just stay put until I get back, a’right?”

He knelt now by Hancock’s feet and grabbed both ankles; making a big point, I noticed, of holding him by the tops of his boots; where there were a few layers between his hands and Hancock’s skin. I slid my own hands down underneath Hancock’s shoulders and wriggled my fingers into the nooks beneath his arms, so that I could keep a good grip on him as he was being lifted. I nodded to the guard and then we both pushed up onto our feet. I bent my body forward so that the top of Hancock’s head was pressed tight against my stomach, providing some counter balance in order to keep it as straight as possible. I could only hope to God that his brain and spine hadn’t been injured by the attack. If Hancock lost the use of his arms and legs, I don’t think he would have any idea what to do with himself.

The guard walked backwards towards where the lock up was and I followed grudgingly in his path, watching as the lights from the Dugout Inn receded around the corner and out of sight. All I needed to do was to humor this bastard for a minute or two and then hopefully I would be able to get a message to the others. There would be other guards in the lock up for sure; I remember around two or three were on duty when I had gone in there to bust out Mel.

Not tonight however. The jail was completely empty; all the guards perhaps out on their various rounds about the city. Not even the Jailer was to be found and he was specifically allocated to this shift, so far as I knew.

It seemed hard to believe however, considering how long the fight with the teens had gone on before a guard even bothered to turn up at all. I wondered if something might have been transpiring outside the city boundaries; like a super mutant attack or a group of raiders and every available guard had been pulled to go out and assist? Didn’t care enough to ask for confirmation regarding it but I wondered all the same.

The guard got me to hold Hancock up by the shoulders as he unlocked one of the cells. I thought about trying to drag Hancock out of the room and make an encumbered run back to the Dugout Inn but I rationalized that we wouldn’t get very far. Not to mention that we would most likely be arrested and having to serve time for being cheeky to Diamond City security wasn’t something I was prepared to do; especially not when I still had Shaun to rescue. It was more practical to be compliant for the moment.

“In you go.” The guard said, gesturing for me to drag Hancock inside of the cell. It was bare minimum in there; concrete floor, a relatively clean toilet, a wooden bench and nothing else. Not even so much as a blanket or bedroll and on a freezing night like this.

Nonetheless, I turned myself about and managed to lug Hancock backwards into the cell; much like a dog trying to pull a huge tree branch inside of its kennel to gnaw on. I set him down on the ground as gently as I could, before returning to stand by the door of the cell as the guard took out his keys and locked it.

“Can I at least ask that you take a message to Nick Valentine at the Dugout Inn?” I requested, using my most polite ‘sweetie-dearie-darling’ voice. “Just so that our friends know where we are? They might worry otherwise, you see.”

“If I have a moment after rousing the doc, I’ll try to get in there to speak with him.” The guard said indifferently, turning the key sharply in the lock. The tumblers clacked into place but he gave the door a rattle all the same to make sure it was secure. “Just want you here staying put until I get those kids seen to and then I wanna get down to the nitty gritty of what happened out there.”

“I’m cooperating,” I said, letting a small edge of annoyance seep into my voice. “I shouldn’t be, not when my friend is so badly injured but you haven’t given me much of a choice. Could I at least get a blanket for him? Or a clean towel to hold against the wound?”

“Use what you got.” The guard snorted and for the first time I caught the nasty little smile on his face, which flickered out of existence so soon I thought I might have even imagined it. The bastard was indulging his own prejudices with his treatment of us and I could only suppose he had some personal beef with the Ghoul populace that was underpinning his behaviour towards us that night. I was tempted to reach my hand through the bars and smash his face right up against them but he stepped away now and marched for the door with such speed that I wondered if he in fact suspected I might try such a thing. He even went so far as to snap the lights off as he went, plunging the cell block into a darkness.

My breath fogged as I slowly exhaled; the vaporous clouds drifting up in front of my eyes. It was dead silent in the cell. Colder than a dead guys asshole, too. And, no pun intended, I was scared shitless. Hancock was still breathing but for how much longer? How could a guard be so messed up, so completely unprofessional that he would lock two presumably innocent people into a cell; one of whom could possibly bleed to death? It didn’t reconcile in my mind; even if I was to assume that sometime terrible might have happened to the man in his childhood and Ghouls were involved. Negligence like this could cost a person their job.

I felt like an idiot to boot. I could have fought harder to get us out of this; hell, I should have told the guard that Hancock was Goodneighbor’s mayor; he probably wouldn’t have dared pop him in a cell then. Or maybe he would have thrown us in a cell and then popped a cap in Hancock’s head; especially if he had genuine hatred towards Ghouls; you just never know. No, it was safer that he had no idea; I couldn’t predict just how such a person might behave if he did in fact get Goodneighbor’s mayor in a vulnerable position. I had to trust that the guard would at least get a message to Nick.

I knelt down beside Hancock, placing my palm gently over his mouth and feeling relief flood through me as warm breath touched my skin. Thank Christ, still breathing. But bleeding also and not in a good way. If help wasn’t coming anytime soon, I would need to pull myself together and do what I could to stabilize him in the meantime.

I tried to remember what I had learnt from my First Aid course all those years ago but my brain was swimming so much from the alcohol and the adrenaline that it was hard to think straight. I knew that head wounds always bled a lot more, because the blood vessels were closer to the skin and it was important not to get overwhelmed by the amount of blood, despite how serious it looked. This was the part I was having the most trouble with. I had kept the palms of my hands pressed to Hancock’s head for as long as possible and I could feel blood dripping out through the gaps in my fingers. They felt absolutely soaked and none of it was clotting yet, so far as I could tell. I was scared for him and even more scared that I was going to fuck up and let Goodneighbors Mayor die in a dingy old cell in Diamond City. Jesus, every member of the Neighborhood Watch would be out for my ass, never mind what parts of my body Fahrenheit would burn off in retribution.

I took a moment to steady my breath. The fight had sobered me up a little and I was able to gather my thoughts together into some semblance of order. I started feeling down the back of Hancock’s head with my fingertips, checking to see if his skull was indented or if the wound had penetrated to the bone. I found the cut and wished immediately that I had something to clean my fingers with, because the idea of sticking my grubby mitts into an open wound wasn’t exactly a sensible sounding one. With nothing immediately on hand however, I groaned and poked one fingertip in, pulling a face at the blood that continued to leak through the torn flesh. The gash was long and deep but it didn’t seem to have gone far enough to expose the skull or crack it open. Thank God for that. Wouldn’t be much for it other than plugging up the laceration and praying that the doctor would attend before infection set in.

Okay, so the skull and the brain weren’t exposed. That was something. Now, if my memory served me correctly, the bleeding from a head injury usually stemmed after approximately fifteen minutes of direct pressure. The problem was, my hands definitely weren’t doing the job and I didn’t have so much as a tissue available, let alone a bandage. I knew that Hancock had a handkerchief he normally kept in his pocket, but that was thin and he’d already used it a few times that day to clean the sweat from his face. I needed some thick, clean material if possible.

I thought about stripping off his own shirt to use and then reasoned that it would have been cruel to have left him exposed in this freezing jail cell. He was sensitive enough to the cold as it was, let alone when he was down a good quart of blood. I rested his head down on my knees as gently as I was able and wrestled my sweater off and over my head. This would give me the most warmth, so I sacrificed my nighty-night shirt instead, peeling it off and feeling a horrible chill seize my exposed breasts like a pair of frigid fists. I wasted no time pulling the sweater back on and then folded the shirt up into as thick a square as I could manage, lifting Hancock’s head ever so slightly and pressing the material to the wound. I applied pressure, shifting my lower legs out from underneath me as I did and stretching them out on either side of Hancock’s body, keeping his head settled in my lap.

“There you go, sweetheart.” I murmured, knowing he couldn’t hear me but still wanting to provide some comfort just the same. I grabbed his jacket up from beside me and whipped it out over his body, tucking it where I was able. My back was freezing and the sweater had a few holes in it, where the cold seeped in like vicious little worms, biting into whatever warm flesh they could find and wriggling down until they could twine about my bones. I had to prioritize keeping Hancock warm though; with the loss of blood, it was possible he might go into shock and keeping him warm was paramount to getting through this. I squeezed my legs as tightly around him as possible, sliding one hand around his face to keep his head steady, whilst the other rested beneath his crown, pressing the makeshift swab. I rubbed my thumb over his cheek, listening closely to make certain that he was still breathing. I could feel his body rising and falling with the intake of breath against my thighs.

“Just hold tight.” I whispered, biting back a sob as I felt the cloth beneath my hands start to dampen. Oh God, how much could one person bleed before they just up and withered away into death? I mean, he already looked enough like a sultana as it was; he didn't need to be drained of any more moisture. “Don’t you go anywhere, you hear me? You just hang on. Don’t die on me, don’t you dare, you bastard.”

I didn’t have my Pip-boy with me, so I wasn’t able to time the fifteen minutes out exactly but I was able to feel with my hands when the bleeding started to ebb. With the exception of being in labour, it was probably the longest time spent waiting in my life and I had to bite back sobs of pure relief as I pulled the cloth away and gingerly felt the wound. It had finally clotted and was only the slightest bit wet now. I cleaned around the injury as best I could, using the least bloodied folds of the shirt that I was able. I reapplied it again and continued to exert pressure against the wound, just to make absolutely certain. I was shaking so badly from the cold now that my whole body veritably shuddered from head to toe and it must have been this, more than anything else, which finally roused Hancock out of unconsciousness.

I heard him groan softly and my heart and stomach dropped so dramatically I thought I might burst into tears. He shifted between my thighs, shoulders twitching from side to side and his head tilting in that horrible way most folks do when they’re fighting back pain. I couldn’t see much in the dark but I saw the shadows meld around his arm as he raised it, presumably to rub at his face or to clear his eyes. And then I felt every cord in his body tense, as though he had glanced upon something crouching in the corner of the room and it was scaring him out of his ever loving wits.

“Oh no… no, no, no… shit, shit, _shit…”_ He blathered, his voice taking on a high, panicky tone that I had never heard before and his legs started to thrash and windmill as though he were in the throes of a seizure. I gasped in shock as his head smashed back up against the line of my stomach, his feet finding traction on the stone floor amidst the flailing and suddenly his hands were smacking at the sides of my face, his fingernails scratching at my ears and cheeks, whilst his fingers caught tangles of my hair and yanked hard. “Get off of me!! GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME – GET AWAY FROM ME, DON’T YOU FUCKING _TOUCH ME!!_ ”

“Hancock, _stop!_ ” I shrieked, releasing my hold on his head and grabbing for his wrists, trying to still the movement of his arms. “It’s _me_!! It’s Eve, it’s _Eve_ , honey – please stop! You’re gonna hurt yourself!”

His hands stopped yanking at my hair and his body stilled, though his breaths still continued coming hard and fast. A horrible, high pitched gasp came from where I knew his mouth to be and I felt his fingers softly curl against my face, cupping me gently.

“Oh, Munch… Munch, I’m _so_ sorry…” He whispered, with a voice thickened from the added weight of many a vested emotion; more than I had ever heard from him in even the weakest of moments. Regret, anguish, fear… It sounded like he wanted to cry and this was something I only ever thought I would see Hancock do on the day that hell froze over. Or Chem distribution was completely halted in the Commonwealth; one or the other.

“It’s okay,” I said, reaching up to cup one of his hands and squeezing reassuringly. He tightened his grip around my own and took a shaky breath in, tinged so plainly with misery that my eyes prickled with tears. Momentarily abandoning the swab to the back of his head, I reached around with my other arm and twined it about his jaw, cupping the side of his face with my hand and bringing him flush to the line of my stomach. This must have been the precise straw required to break the camel’s back, because his breaths came now in short, sharp gasps; what sobs are when you attempt to smother the life out of them. “Oh sweetheart, what is it? Were you having a nightmare? It’s okay, I’m here… I’m here with you, you’re okay.”

I shushed him gently, such as I had with Nate all those nights he had awoken screaming, sweating and traumatized from slumbers of torment; turgid memories of death and suffering. Of war and fire and burning flesh. I brought my own face down to rest against Hancock’s forehead, letting him feel my breath and proximity; so that he could formulate an anchor point in the inky blackness of the cell. The sensory deprivation must have been completely surreal to have awakened within and I couldn’t the least blame him for freaking out the way he did. He was huffing a little, taking angry sounding, impatient breaths between his teeth; seeming to chastise his body for whatever fright had stolen through it. His fingers curled in my hair again, rubbed where he had pulled and another breath hitched in the back of his throat.

“Did I hurt ya?” He whispered finally, the tips of his fingers caressing softly. My earlobe was stinging from where he had accidentally scratched it and my face felt a little sore from the few smacks he made with his hands but that was nothing compared to what the youths had left me with.

“Nothing doing, darl. Right as rain,” I murmured, smiling as I stroked the side of his face, bringing his hand down to rest on top of his chest.

“We’re in… Diamond City lock up, I take it?” He asked, his fingers leaving my face, only to rub against the side of my leg a few seconds later. My flesh started to warm up beneath the fabric of my pyjama pants.

I nodded, though there wasn’t much point when he wasn’t able to see it. “Yeah… one of those fucking idiot guards thought it was a better idea than taking you to see the doctor. Wanted us to ‘cool our heels’, while he talked to those stupid little fuckwits that pulled my pants down and brained you over the head.”

He groaned softly as though my mentioning it had triggered off the pain from his injury and reached back to touch his fingers to the crown of his head. His fingers slid along the top of my thigh and braced themselves there while he assessed the injury; probably unable to lift his head too.

“You offer to suck the guards’ dick?” He asked and with such sincerity that I thought for an instant that he might have actually meant it. My mouth dropped open, astonished that this was his first go to strategy when he found himself locked in a jail cell; offering up his female companions for a throat tickling.

“No, I did not!” I snapped, my tone so prudish that it roused a soft, amused chuckle from Hancock.

“Shame. Mighta gotten us outta here a bit faster.”

“If you’re so worried why don’t _you_ offer to suck his dick when he comes back?”

“Fine. If it helps us get to a warm bed before morning.” I could feel the backs of his fingers press against my stomach, feeling around the injury to his head and he hissed slightly. “Jesus… I’ve got a hell of a horn growing here. Kid had balls trying to snap off the head of Goodneighbors Mayor, I’ll give him props for that.”

“Don’t joke.” I said scoldingly, my mouth drooping into an anxious little drawl. “It was absolutely horrible… the little asshole brained you with a crowbar… there was _so_ much blood.” I pursed my lips together tightly, to try and stifle the sob that threatened to escape. Fortunately, my still shivering body was kind enough to disguise the accompanying shudder that rattled up from my lungs. “For fucks _sake_ , people _died_ from that sort of shit in my time! We called it a ‘coward’s punch’, collecting someone from behind like that! And then to kick and attack them when they’re unconscious!!”

“It’s a dog act, to be sure.” Hancock concurred and I knew from the way that his hand pressed harder to my leg that he knew how upset I was. “Did the guard have to come and sort ‘em out, or did you up and get all mama bear over my poor defenceless little ass?”

I smiled into the darkness, a burst of pride warming my chest. “Whaddyou reckon? Broke one of the fuckers’ noses, elbowed another in the groin and belted the last one unconscious. Don’t reckon Cait woulda done a better job.”

Hancock gave a low, appreciative chuckle and I felt his fingers cluck me under the chin. “That’s my girl. Kinda explains why the leather neck decided to poke us in here though… walking up on that, mighta figured we were the ones causin’ the trouble.”

I snorted, unconvinced and continued to gently caress Hancock’s cheek. “I think it probably suited him more to believe that. Bet he ain’t even talking to those boys at all; he’s probably just walkin’ ‘em back to their parents place and explaining that they got randomly attacked by the big bad Ghoul and his little humpette.”

“Suppose it’s too much to ask that he went to get the doctor in the midst of all that?”

My eyes welled once more; tears of pointless, useless frustration and I bit my lip hard to force them away. My fingers brushed Hancock’s face with greater determination, as though he were the one in need of reassurance, when clearly _I_ was the one who was tripping out.

“He… intimated he might. But then he also said it was town policy that residents needed to be seen first.” I rubbed my hand across his chest, feeling warmth seep into my palm through the bare skin that poked between his shirt. I took a moment to button him up as far as I could, not wanting any flesh exposed to the cold air if I could help it. “I just got the impression he really didn’t give a shit.”

“Surprises all.” Hancock said, giving a humourless little chuckle, resting his hand on top of mine as I fastened the last button on his shirt. He tightened his grip around my palm and sighed a long, slow breath; managing his pain I suppose, as best as he was able. “How long we been in for?”

“Little over twenty minutes,” I replied, thinking of how long and torturous those twenty minutes had been. My hands were tacky with blood and my clothes were sticking to me from where Hancock had been bleeding out all over me. It kind of frustrated me just how calm he was being about all of this. Didn’t he realize what hell I had been through; wondering whether he would even live to see the cell door opened? “I managed to stop the bleeding from your head wound… I was scared shitless though, gotta admit. I thought you were gonna die.”

He chuckled again, but there was nothing false or patronizing about it and I felt his fingers tighten on my leg, giving a supportive little squeeze. “Take a lot more than a whack to the back of the head to knock old John Hancock into the grave, Munch, you know that. But hey… thanks for taking care of me the way you did. Not to mention giving those little rim jobs what for. Not that I’d expect any less.”

I felt that little rush of pride burble up in my chest again and my lips stretched into a smile quite of their own volition. “They sure had it coming. You should have seen the looks on their faces when the old gal in the puppy slippers got up and started whoopin’ their sorry little butts.”

“Woulda shelled out the caps the see that,” Hancock said, laughing softly as he continued to rub at my leg. He must have noticed me shivering, because he gave me a hard tap to the thigh and said, “If they didn’t put a canopy bed and a blanket in the cell, Munch, you may wanna think about getting under the jacket with me before you go and shiver your tits off.”

I might have protested out of vanity’s sake, or because I was genuinely concerned that he might have needed me to keep his head braced from behind but the frigid air of the holding cell had reached a crescendo so severe that I was worried my teeth might soon shatter into pieces from the way that they were violently crashing together. Offering a muttered validation of, ‘Yeah, all right’, I bundled up my shirt into as thick a ball as I could make it and gently propped this under Hancock’s head, hoping that it would keep the pressure where it needed to be. Having assured myself that he was situated comfortably, I slowly eased my right leg up and swung it over his face; bringing it down to align against my other thigh. Making certain that I had moved clear from the frame of his shoulder, I then scooted forward on my ass, hoisting up the coat and pulling as much of it over myself as possible, using my hands to try and gauge whether I had left enough over Hancock in the process. The warmth of his body radiated close to mine, seeming to pulse and beckon me in and I thought how stupid it was to worry about the practicalities of maintaining a platonic relationship and all the boundaries that came part and parcel with it, when your ovaries were literally about to freeze over. Not to mention that Hancock was going to need as much body heat as possible, given his blood loss.

“Look… don’t take this the wrong way and don’t go telling MacCready but I may have to just go ahead and spoon you.” I said, which for some reason made Hancock snort with laughter as I curled up against the side of his body, wrapping one arm tight around his midsection. I can’t imagine he minded in the least, given how he wrapped both his arms around me and tugged my body against him until for all intents and purposes, we were one big entangled organism.

“Hey, it’s survival. We don’t need to sully the practicalities of that by bringing up how you’re insatiably attracted to me.” He chuckled and I gave his chest a smack, hating to admit that there was something truthful in what he had said. This feeling of being tucked in tight and cosy under a man’s chin… so familiar and comforting. Even with the hard concrete floor of the cell beneath me and the sticky blood still congealing on my hands and body, I felt a strange kind of stillness settle over me. As though my body had finally found something it recognized and was comforted by. Having been married I suppose it was always going to feel natural to me; curling up like a koala bear clinging to the strong trunk of a tree. And in the dark, there was nothing to go by other than the feeling of it; the wonted curve of a man’s chest beneath my arm, the rise and fall of his ribcage, the smell of the cologne still lingering on the flesh beneath his chin… And that warmth… those strong, firm arms pressed around me, bringing me into a little nestle; a safe place that protected and harboured me. I closed my eyes, gave a little sigh and buried my cheek against his chest. I could have been home; tucked up safe in my bed, curled around Nate and with Shaun sleeping soundly in the room next door. No bomb splitting the horizon of the distant sky, no two hundred year suspended siesta… no bullet piercing a black, endless chasm between Nate’s firm, beautiful brow…

“I guess you’re wondering what all that shit before was about.” Hancock muttered, bringing me out of my tiny little realm of denial. A good thing it was too, I suppose; given how these lamentations only hurt the more to indulge and harder each time to extract myself from.

“When you came to?” I asked, peering up at the rise of his face; a black mountain shaded only degrees darker than the impenetrable ebony void around us. 

He shifted a little beneath me, perhaps compensating for the pain in his skull or potentially discomforted by what he was discussing. “Yeah… all that. Look, I’m… I’m sorry you had to see that. And I’m even more sorry I lashed out at you the way I did. I was fucking disoriented when I came to and I thought… well, I just thought I was somewhere else. … I thought _you_ were someone else.”

I rubbed my hand gently against his chest and tapped my fingertips against the rise of his pectoral, insistent on his attention. “Hey. You don’t have to discuss anything you feel uncomfortable with. You only talk about what you need to.”

“Yeah see, that’s just the thing. All this time we’ve been travelling together, I feel like I’ve gotten to know some pretty hard things about _your_ life, Munch. Just doesn’t seem quite right for me to go and carry on the way that I did and not even provide an explanation.” He paused for a moment at this juncture, his fingers curling and uncurling against the curve of my shoulder, still battling I think with his decision to even speak up in the first place. He had such a strong sense of equity however, that I don’t think he could let it rest without attempting to redistribute the balance, so to speak. “This one… it’s just a… it’s the hardest one to talk about.”

Fucking hell, it _must_ have been bad if Hancock ranked it top of the most difficult things that he had ever brought to the table for dissection. I felt a little frightened in light of this and ever the more upset for him, knowing already some of the sad and tragic things that had happened in his life and I squeezed my arm back around his middle all the more tightly.

“I’m here.” I said and thought how asinine a statement it was. Of course I was fucking _there_ , I wasn’t scurrying away trying to squeeze myself through the bars, now was I? But I suppose this had been enough for Hancock, because his fingers grazed my arm gently; almost gratefully.

“It, uh… it ain’t the first time I’ve been in a cell. Sure that wouldn’t surprise ya in the least.” He said, huffing to himself in a fairly distracted fashion. Once again, there was no humor to what he was saying. “Don’t reckon there are many folks who’d say they relish the thought of being behind bars. But I sure as shit reckon I hate it just that slightest bit more. On account of somethin’ that happened to me when I first moved to Goodneighbor all those years ago.”

He paused for a moment then, stilled and uncertain and it occurred to me then that we weren’t entirely without resources in this cell. I sat up for a moment, ruffling my hand through Hancock’s coat and came up with his packet of cigarettes. I lit one for him, sucking in just enough to ensure that the tip held a steady ember and then brought it over to where I knew his lips to be; using my fingers to ensure that I slipped it into just the right place. Wouldn’t help to go jamming it into his nose hole.

“There you go,” I whispered, thinking that my first aid officer would have been shitting her pants to see me handing a cigarette to a person with a head injury. Hancock was sure as hell smart enough to gauge his own body however and I knew that if he wasn’t able to tolerate a cigarette, he would have refused it offhand. What concerned me more was the level of anxiety that he was experiencing and if there was anything I could do to help him relax and get through… whatever it was that he felt he needed to get through, then I was going to do it.

Hancock took the cigarette and inhaled deeply, exhaling the gray fog into the chilled night air shortly after; almost indistinguishable from the haze of his own breath.

“Thanks Munch,” He murmured and I saw a flash of his smile in my direction as I lit my own cigarette, remaining perched on my side whilst I smoked it. He took another puff, respired and then continued. “All my other visits to Goodneighbor was when I’d still been living in Diamond City. So it wasn’t as though I knew what it was truly like to live there. Got a good taste of that once I set up shop. Guess once all my connections to Diamond City were presumably severed, I became as fair game as any other drifter. Ain’t nothing strange about that, but I was still an arrogant little jerkoff back then. Figured I was too well bred, too good looking and too damn smart to go and be treated like all those folks livin’ on the street.

The other drifters tried warning me; told me to keep my head down and button my yap but I didn’t listen. Too full of my own self-importance and ignorant enough to believe that the shit that was happening to them couldn’t possibly happen to me.” He scoffed through the darkness, his eyes pinched shut in the glow from his cigarette as he took another puff from it. “Couldn’t have been more off the mark with that one. Guess I must’ve mouthed that one too many times because that’s when Vic and his boys called in these couple of goons called ‘Wranglers’. Figure they must be an offshoot from some sort of Slaver organisation running outside the Commonwealth because I ain’t never found any trace of ‘em since and believe me, I’ve looked under a lot of rocks these past ten years.

Two of ‘em turn up, these big-ass mean lookin’ mother-fuckers and everyone in town immediately turns and tucks tail. Wasn’t the first time Vic had called these bastards in. His own goon squad did a good job keeping folks under control but the Wranglers role was to bring ‘em to their knees and break ‘em in first. After a person’s been beaten down enough, they’re a whole lot easier to control. That’s how they looked at us, you know? Like a herd of Brahmin they needed to coral and give a lash to occasionally.

Well, old shit-for-brains here thought it was a fine idea to accept a beer from one of these fellas one night. I had a pretty high tolerance for Chems, even then but whatever they put in that brew wasn’t anything I was used to, because it knocked me flat on my ass. Next thing you know, I’m waking up in the jail cell we got underneath the State house. It’s pitch black, my heads pounding and I’m lying there on the floor and I’ve got this… thing around my neck. Like a big thick collar, with all these compartments sticking out on it. These two bastards are in there with me and one of ‘em has this little remote, with a flashing light on it. He tells me that one push of the button and the whole collar goes off, taking my head along for the ride. Their advice to me is to keep still and not piss ‘em off. Not like I could move much anyway; shit they drugged me with fucked my arms and legs all up. Like a Mirelurk hatchling rolled onto its back.

They spent a few hours at it… working me over, you know? They carried these like, riding crops I guess you could call ‘em… going along with the whole ‘wrangler’ theme, I guess – smart ass pricks. Rolled me over and ripped my clothes clean off and just went to town all over me. Seen him use those crops to smack a guys’ drink out of his hands once but I never thought they actually used ‘em on a person the way they did me. Don’t mind tellin’ ya… hurt like bein’ thrown on the surface of the sun. Thought it was bad when my mother whipped me on the ass with that antenna but that was nothin’ compared to what those boys did. Didn’t leave the same sorta marks… nothin’ that you can see now, anyway but at the time, reckon my back looked like minced beef when they got done with it.”

He paused at this and was silent for some time, taking another protracted drag of his cigarette. He went to speak again but his voice caught in his throat, cracked and I heard him take a sharp inhalation through his nose, as though steeling himself. I kept my own cigarette by my side, not wanting to raise it to where the light of the ember would visibly tremble from the shaking of my hand. What Hancock had told me already was so awful, I couldn’t bear to think of what could be so much worse that it would render him speechless like this.

He tapped the ash from his cigarette off to the side, the glow slipping down and away from his face allowing darkness to steal over his features once more. He took a moment to clear his throat and then continued. “Wrangler’s take a two prong approach to breaking people’s will; pain coupled with humiliation. Don’t doubt it also satisfies some of their own fucking perverted desires as well but they find a way to justify it under the banner of their so called ‘responsibilities’. They told me that the last part of breaking in a Brahmin is to throw a saddle over its back and ride the bastard until it knows who its’ master is. So…”

 _No, no, no, no_ , my brain begged, my heart straining with so much pain I thought it might give out on me at any moment. I braced my spare hand over my face, not certain how much his eyes might have adapted to the dark but wanting still to shield him from seeing the tears that were rolling uninhibited down my cheeks. _Stop it, stop it, don’t cry you idiot – this isn’t about you!! Pull yourself together!_

“… first the one… then the, uh, the other.” He took a moment then, drew in a breath from the tiny stub that now remained of the cigarette and in the dying glow I saw so much pain pinched into the lines about his eyes that I wanted to scream. “I remember just, um… staring down at the floor… the skin on my face rubbed raw, bein’ split apart from behind and thinking ‘This ain’t happening to me. This _can’t_ be happening, not to _me’_. It went on so long… I was screaming for my Pop in my head to help me, to get me out of this; even though he’d been dead for so many years. Heh, can you believe that? A thirty-six year old man begging his father to come and rescue him. I kept hopin’, _prayin’_ that someone would come along… I really believed that I’d be saved from it somehow. But no one showed up.” I saw his hand make a gesture in the air above his head. “They had their fingers in my hair, holding onto it… like it was a fucking set of reigns or something and one would lash me on the bottom of my feet while the other was working me over. Keepin’ me _tense_ , they said.”

My throat felt tight from trying to hold back the sobs that wanted to come up. I wanted to tell him to stop; to please stop talking, that I was too much of a coward to tolerate even _hearing_ about people hurting him. But I didn’t dare. He wouldn’t have started to tell me in the first instance, not unless he needed to purge this somehow and the idea that he would have to live with these horrible thoughts bottled up inside of him a second longer hurt me even more than what he was telling me. Instead, I took my hand away from my face and reached out through the dark, finding his own and wrapping my fingers tightly about his palm.

“Told a lie before about the worst scar I ever got, Munch. The worst is right here,” I felt him move my hand down over the curve of his chest and then lower, tracing under the sway of his spine and then behind his hip. “When the bastards got done with me, one of ‘em pinned a foot on the side of my face and the other stuck a red hot brand right onto me. Wrangler’s mark; big W with bulls head. Right there… like I was property to ‘em now. Thought that might be enough; that they’d be satisfied and let me go then but they had one last little act of degradation in mind. They took the collar off and then stuck a big old fistful of caps in my mouth, taped it over and tied my hands behind my back. They knew I’d been… doin’ a bit of sex work in the town, ya see. Just the odd job or two; but it paid better than anything else did. Figured that them shoving the caps in my mouth was kinda like sayin’ they’d paid for what they done to me; that it wasn’t a crime so to speak. Who would believe my version of events when I had a whole bunch of caps to my name? Rape didn’t exist in Goodneighbor and it especially didn’t exist if you dabbled in the sex trade and most of us had had no choice to at some point down the line.

They dragged me up outta the bowels of the Statehouse and tossed me out onto the street; not a stitch to my name, blood all over me… a mess inside and out. Had to crawl on my belly I was so fucked up. Rob was the one who found me first, pulled the tape off of my mouth. All those caps just spilt out all over the ground and not one single person came running up to try and grab ‘em. And these were poor folks mind, struggling like you wouldn’t believe. But no one touched ‘em. Enough caps there to feed a family for a week and we all just left them there on the ground. Some of the others tried to help me but I didn’t want a bar of it; I didn’t want any of ‘em knowing what happened to me; though I suppose it wasn’t too hard to guess. Washed myself in a bucket under the lean to, trying to get all their muck out of me. I felt… dirty. _Diseased._ I was terrified I’d catch something… that they’d make me sick. Went to the doc for my back and did a couple of tests but everything came back negative, thank fucking God. But it followed me everywhere I went… every time I took so much as a step, my body screamed. When I tried to sit down, to use the toilet, to go to sleep even… I felt them inside me again.”

His voice broke at this, as did the last shred of self-control I had been thinly maintaining and I crushed my cigarette hard on the ground, flicked the butt away and scooted myself around so that I could pull his head up into my lap again. I wrapped an arm around his chest, rested my cheek against his forehead and stroked my hand over his face, no longer bothering to keep my own tears in check. They slipped from my eyes in a steady, unhindered stream, no doubt leaving his own face soaked. I could feel his body jerking a little, though he was silent and he had flicked the cigarette away so that he could pinch his fingers around his eyes; as though he was determined to hide his grief. Still trying to be tough.

“Oh, sweetheart…” I murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead as I pulled him tighter against me; wishing I could reach into his body and rip out the pain that he was feeling. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry someone did that to you.”

Hancock took a deep breath; a breath which terminated into painful ripples that resonated down through his chest. “It ain’t your fault. I just… wanted you to understand why I reacted the way that I did. Waking up with my head pounding, seeing those bars splitting the darkness, feeling your arm around my neck, I thought… I thought just for a split second that it was happening all over again. Stupid. Should have more sense.”

“Don’t apologize.” I said fiercely, brushing the backs of my fingers down over his cheek and then retracing the path back up towards his temple. He wasn’t pulling away or knocking my hand aside so I could only assume that I was being of some use in comforting him. “If it had been me who had gone through something like that, I would have reacted the same way. Worse probably. We all have moments like that, there’s no shame in it.”

“But there _is_ shame… that’s just it.” He murmured, his voice so utterly miserable that it made me squeeze him to me all the tighter. “Things mighta turned out a lot different if I hadn’t insisted on being such an arrogant little brat.”

I gave him a hard smack to the chest, which cut him off short. “No. You stop that _right_ now. _That_ mentality is what makes you a victim. Letting yourself think for even a second that you have anything to be ashamed of. _They’re_ the ones who ought to be ashamed, not you.”

He made a noise now and it sounded as though the slightest edge of a sob had broken through but he had caught the tail end of it just in time to drag it back out of sight. “Sorry Munch, but you don’t get it. You’re not a man. You don’t get how it knocks the legs out from under ya, makes you question whether you have the strength to protect yourself anymore, let alone anyone else. Let alone any woman you love who might find themselves in the same position one day. ‘If they can do that to me’… I shouldn’t have been so stupid. And I should have fought back harder, instead of just lying there in the dirt and taking it like a little bitch! God, I _hate_ myself for that!”

“What and get your head blown clean off of your shoulders? What good would that have accomplished?” I said, squeezing my fingers tightly in the fabric of his shirt; holding firm against the waves of his self-loathing and anger. “Do you think any woman who has ever been raped feels any different to you? Don’t you think _they_ ask the same questions? Have the same expectations and doubts? Don’t you think _they_ blame themselves too?”

“I know,” He said, sounding thoroughly chastised. His hand came up again to rub over his forehead and I wrapped my fingers around it, bringing it to the side of my face instead. His fingers pressed against me, stroked through the trails of my tears and cupped my cheek. “I’ve heard the same stories from women in Goodneighbor… and I told ‘em the same thing you’re telling me. Not to be ashamed. But I know what it feels like; to loathe yourself retrospectively for being helpless. For someone having so much power over you; the power to take something intimate and turn it into something foul. The only solace I had was believing that I had some control in the situation; and that was having made the choice to _lose_ control which then allowed them to have the upper hand. I was a mouthy, ignorant brat and I invited it to me by not listening to what I was being told.”

“Oh yeah. Makes perfect sense.” I snorted, tears ripening in the corners of my eyes all over again. “You mouthed off, so clearly what you needed was a good raping to teach you a lesson.” I clutched his hand firmly, bringing the backs of his fingers against my lips, letting him feel the words letter for letter as I spelled it out for him. “Rape is _never_ , under _any_ circumstance, acceptable. Forced sexual acts are the most horrendous violation a person can suffer and the most painful memory to have to live with. You were a young guy, doing what all young guys do; being cheeky. And even if you were being a downright little cunt; even if you were batting your eyes, yoo-hooing and strutting down the street in a thong bikini, that doesn’t give anyone the right to touch you, let alone force themselves on you. And to torture you like that… to mark you up and… _brand_ you… Oh my god…” I kissed the backs of his fingers and brought them up to my cheek, rocking him, crying softly, devastated that he could even for a second believe that he had somehow played any part in bringing such an abominable act on himself. “It doesn’t make you any less of a man for being assaulted. Just like it doesn’t make any woman who’s been assaulted any less of a lady. It’s the bastards who perpetuate the harm who are the ones that are made changed by it. _They’re_ evil! _They’re_ the ones who should be punished for doing what they did; so don’t you _dare_ let them win by punishing _yourself_ , John!”

“Hey, hey… calm down.” He whispered, his face pressing down against my bicep; turning into my embrace. I felt the pressure of his lips there, through the sleeve of my sweater and the warmth of his breath crept in through the holes and heated my skin. “I know it ain’t nice to hear… but it’s okay now. I shouldn’t have even upset you with it but I just wanted you to understand why I behaved the way I did. It’s not so bad as what other folks in Goodneighbor have gone through. Poor Ryan was worked over so hard it’s a wonder the guy can even stand up long enough to pull a shift these days.”

Ryan was a Neighborhood Watchmen and indisputably one of the toughest men I had ever met in my life. Steely, missing three fingers and looking almost without a sense of humor, until you got him talking and then he was an absolute laugh riot. He was on par with Hancock for pure ballsiness, as I had once seen the guy launch himself clear over the boundary wall of Goodneighbor and land amidst a group of five Super mutants that were trying to muzzle their way into the gate. He managed to shoot four of them dead before Myer burst over and nailed the last one in the head with his axe. It was hard to imagine _anyone_ being able to work a tough hombre like Ryan over with enough rapidity that he suffered daily from the resultant injuries.

“Was Ryan ‘mouthy’ as well?” I asked sarcastically, to which Hancock gave a huffing little laugh.

“No, Munch. He’s gay.” He said, which caused my brows to shoot up into my forehead in surprise. “What? Didn’t pick it because he’s not prancing around with a purse and a small fluffy dog?”

I sighed impatiently. “That’s a stupid stereotype if ever I heard one, Hancock. But no, I didn’t actually pick it. Although now that I think about it, he never makes any lewd comments towards me and the other girls when we come to town… Though I’m pretty sure he did make a pass at Deacon…”

Hancock gave another little laugh. “Ain’t anyone tougher in the land then a gay man who grew up in Goodneighbor, toots. With perhaps the exception of a gay woman who grew up in Goodneighbor and she’s my beta wolf.”

Well, I had known about Fahrenheit from having spoken with her during one of my previous visits. She’d confirmed as much but it’s not as though she spared the time with me going into all the gory details concerning her sexuality. Got the impression she didn’t particularly like me, that one. Can’t win them all I guess.

“You either toughen up against the waves or you’re worn down by them,” Hancock was saying, rounding off his assessment of Ryan’s character, I assume. “He didn’t have much of a choice really. It was either sink or swim.”

He stopped talking then and I wondered if perhaps he might have been falling unconscious again, when he suddenly said, “Sorry but… I think I need to be sick.”

Well, I nearly broke the poor mans’ neck trying to wrench him up and drag him over to where I assumed the toilet was. I reached out, groping desperately in the inky gloom and thankfully felt cold porcelain beneath my fingertips. I felt around and yanked the seat up, helping Hancock ease himself forward and then resting my hand on the wound to the back of his head, hoping he hadn’t split it open again.

He released the contents of his stomach with one of those horrible, always wince worthy expulsions that seem to clench your own guts with a retributory fist. It seemed to come up from the deepest part of him, purging in three distinct bursts; the last one the most painful sounding of all. There mustn’t have been a single drop of fluid left in his body by the time his stomach was done wringing itself out and he slumped around the bowl, gripping the edges presumably as I caressed the top of his head with my spare hand, shushing gently.

“It’s okay…” I whispered softly, feeling a hint of wetness under the palm that I was keeping pressed to the lump on the back of his head. It was leaking a little but not pouring blood, thank goodness. “I’m right here.”

It wasn’t particularly easy being right there, either. The smell had been bad enough when the toilet was empty but now Hancock’s alcohol curdled vomit was floating around in it, adding to the overall unpleasant aroma. I reached around to pull the lever on the side of the cistern and tilted Hancock’s head enough to keep him clear of the spray.

“Waste of a perfectly good dinner…” He muttered and I could only laugh as I lowered my hand to rub the nape of his neck.

“Never mind. I’m sure I can make you another meal at some point in the future,” I said, moving my fingers in slow, hopefully comforting circles against his ragged skin. It wasn’t food that concerned me so much at this time but dehydration. Hancock had now lost most of the fluids in his body and I was thirsty enough myself on account of having drunk so much earlier in the night. The guard hadn’t left us any water however and there was no way in hell I was going to drink out of the toilet. I’d rather go dry and hold out until whenever the prick got back and saw fit to treat us like actual living creatures. Though if worse did come to worse, I could take water directly from the cistern. I doubt people in the Commonwealth would have been adding Toilet Duck to tackle their stubborn build up, which most likely meant it would be unaffected by chemicals. Other than Rads, that is. Wouldn’t hurt Hancock though and he was likely to be needing it before I was.

“Do you think I’m… dirty now, Munch?” He asked suddenly, out of the blue.

I was confused by the context of his statement and thinking he was talking about perhaps upchucking onto himself, I made a joke out of it. “Yes. You are a dirty, naughty Ghoul. Bad, bad, naughty Ghoul.” I said, giving him a light tap on the backside and immediately wondering if this was insensitive in light of what he had just told me, regarding his assault. And then his earlier words made horrifying absolute sense to me and I felt like the most obtuse, stupid idiot who walked. “Oh, Jesus I'm sorry… you mean… with what happened to you?”

“Felt dirty for a damned long time after it happened.” He said, his voice taking on a strange, hallow resonance from where it was hanging suspended within the toilet bowl. “Couldn’t even be with a woman for… God knows how long. First time I hooked up with someone after it all happened, I kept thinkin’ I must be hurtin’ her… because it hurt _me_ , you know? And the guilt I felt when I came… leaving all that mess. I wanted her to go and shower… I didn’t want her having that same horrible feeling inside of her that _I_ had. I just sat there and bawled like a fucking baby…” He sighed, a deep bellowing lament that echoed down through the porcelain chamber. “Sorry, Munch. I don’t know why the fucking hell I’m still talking about it.”

“Because you need to, is why.” I said, bringing my palm down between his shoulder blades and caressing there. It occurred to me just how ironic it was, that only a few hours ago I had been so incredibly aroused by the feeling of his shoulders and the rolling turn of the muscles in his back. How quickly this attraction could turn to affection.

“I haven’t ever told _anyone_ this… just you and the doc. And the doc I had no choice but to tell.”

My mouth turned up into a warm, bashful smile and I could feel only privileged that he could trust me with this deep and intensely painful knowledge; such as he could no other, not even the men and women of his own town. “I’m glad you trust me enough to be able to talk about these things, John. And you know I would _never_ use any of it against you.” I moved my hand in a circle lower down his back, relieved to feel that he was still warm. “And to answer your question; no. Of course I don’t think you’re dirty. Not in the very least. I just think that you’re absolutely courageous for surviving what you did and still going on to be the wonderful person I know today. I have so much respect for you for that.”

“Because I’m not… you know.” His body heaved and I paused in my movements, waiting to see if he was able to be sick again but he only spat down into the water. When he was composed once more, he continued. “I mighta sold myself for a fistful of caps here and there… and… some of those customers _were_ guys but… you couldn’t afford to be choosy, you know? It was just…somethin’ I had to put up with so I could eat but I… I wasn’t into it. I’m not… gay, or anything. And I always practiced it safe; didn’t want to catch any fucking diseases or nothing.”

I gave a shrug of my shoulders, completely unconcerned. “Why should that worry me in the least, John? I wouldn’t care if you were gay, bi, tri, pan, heterosexual or into weird kinky shit with toys and fuzzy animal costumes. So long as you don’t do it with beasties, children or to anyone against their explicit wishes. I wouldn’t even care if you stuck it in a tree. I’d still feel the same way about you that I always have.”

“Well, just to be perfectly clear; I’m not gay or bi or… into fuzzy animal outfits or sticking it to the native fauna and flora.” He paused and then added, humorously; “Well, there _was_ this one sexy looking elm down by the Commons… but that squirrel convinced me beyond doubt that that particular hole was taken.”

I laughed at this, relieved to hear that he was finally pepping up a bit. All that alcohol in his system must have been acting as a depressant tonight, despite how unaffected his moods appeared to be when he had gotten drunk in the past. It made a lot of sense to me though; just _why_ he was so punitive towards those persons in Goodneighbor who had been accused of rape. More than any other crime, _this_ was when I saw his real emotions come out; his real anger. That friendly, laid back persona lashed aside like a wisp of shade cloth, revealing an infuriated, vengeful core; deaf to all suggestions of reasonable doubt and the prospect of culpability only when proven. That was the moment that his face twisted, his teeth showed and his finger curled around the trigger of his gun; again and again and again, past the point where the chamber clicked empty and smoke wreathed about his face. There it stood; a picture that spoke a thousand words. In that one moment, control relinquished. And in that one moment, control that had been once lost; regained. In striking out against those who had assaulted others, he was lashing back at the men who had once degraded him.

Hancock was silent now and fearing that he had fallen asleep, I shook his shoulder gently. Sure enough, he gave a startled snort and his head jerked up against my hand.

“Hey, hey don’t fall asleep.” I said, giving his upper arms a good rouse so that it brought him fully back to consciousness. He must have been feeling like absolute crap but until I could get his head wound properly assessed by the doctor, I couldn’t risk him passing out. “Come on, honey, you need to stay with me. At least until the doctor gets here.”

Hancock groaned irritably and lightly smacked the back of my hand. “Munch, I’m fucking _tired._ Just let me nod a bit, would ya?”

“You can’t go to sleep. Not until you’ve been checked out.” I insisted, slipping both hands now under his arms and guiding him into scooting backwards, until I could cover us both with his jacket again. “The guards been gone a while… someone’ll come soon. Won’t be long, I bet.”

But I was wrong. It _was_ a long wait. I didn’t have my Pip boy, so I can’t say just how long we did wait there in the freezing cold of the cell but it must have been a while. An hour at least. I maintained that our friends would come looking for us soon, but Hancock rationalized that they probably thought we were off somewhere getting it on and wouldn’t come searching out of fear of disturbing us. Given what I knew about Cait’s enthusiasm, this wouldn’t have surprised me in the least. She would probably in fact convince them to leave well enough alone and give us our privacy.

Not that there was any privacy to be found when you were locked together in a tiny little prison cell after a long night of drinking. I had been trying to hold off as long as possible but the time eventually arrived where I couldn’t sit on it any longer and needed to use the toilet. I got Hancock to cover his ears while I urinated but it was still mortifying and I was paranoid about the smell. Not to mention there wasn’t any toilet paper, which forced me to just wiggle around on the toilet seat until I was as close to dry as reasonably possible. Knowing what our luck had been like tonight, I almost expected that the toilet would now refuse to flush, or back up and flood the entire room but fortunately this one thing went our way and I was able to shelve this embarrassing interlude without any further problems. At least until we all got on the grog again and Hancock inevitably told the story to everyone. I tell you what; fucking Sparta had _nothing_ on the conditions we were now facing as Diamond City convicts.

It wasn’t easy keeping Hancock awake, either. The blood loss and the vomiting had done a real number on him and he kept nodding off, forcing me to continually rouse him, much to his great displeasure. He got really narky at me at one stage, where I grabbed both his cheeks and pinched them hard; my usual shaking having failed to gain any response from him. I had no patience for his temper however; having been reduced to fearful sobs when he hadn’t answered my calls or woken when I’d slapped his arms.

“Please. Please just try and stay awake.” I begged, rubbing my fingertips over his cheeks, hating that I could feel the cold seeping into his flesh now. I had propped the shirt back under his head and put his hat on as best I could, trying to keep his bald skull from being exposed to the night air. “It won’t be much longer… the doctor will be here soon just _please_ fight it, Hancock. I’m begging you, _please_.”

“For fucks sake, Munch. I’m _so tired_.” He groaned, a helpless tinge to his voice that sounded altogether as though he was giving up on far much more than staying awake. “Just let me go.”

“No. Never.” I snapped stubbornly and I brought his hand up to my mouth and dug my teeth in hard, wrenching a pained ‘Ow!’ from between his lips. He tried to pull away from me but I held on tight, digging in harder; so hard, it wouldn’t have surprised me if I drew blood. When I was certain that he was as completely awake as he was ever likely to be, I released him and all but yelled into his face. “Stay _awake_ , or so help me God, I will start biting every fucking inch of you!!”

And then suddenly, amazingly, the two of us were bathed in light and in the frame of the open doorway, I saw a tall figure wearing a fedora staring down at us.

“Well… guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the two of you ended up in here,” came Nick’s familiar Boston twang and I felt limp with relief to know that we had finally been found. “Although judging from what I just heard, I’m wondering if perhaps I should come back at a more appropriate time?”

“Oh my god… Nick,” I sobbed, giving Hancock’s palm one last hard squeeze to ensure that he wouldn’t dose off while my attention was diverted. “You look just like an Angel to me right now.”

Hancock groaned from beside me. “Did we actually die during the night? I fucking hope not, because if this is Heaven and all the angels look like Nick, I’m thinking I would have been better off going the other way.”

“Nice to see you too, Hancock.” Nick grumbled, unimpressed. Cait’s shaggy head of hair appeared from around him, followed shortly by Deacon and MacCready; all of whom were red in the face from the drink and grinning like a bunch of mean bastards. “If you’re able to crack jokes like that, I’m guessing you still might be fit enough to grace the world with your presence for a little while longer. Mores the pity for me and my nerve circuits.”

“Well, I guess you weren’t too far off, Cait. Going to prison _is_ sorta like getting laid.” Deacon said and I honestly wished I had something to throw at him. Dogmeat’s face poking through the bars and his big paw dabbing at the air in desperate bid to reach me cooled my temper considerably but I didn’t risk going to him until I knew that Hancock was okay.

“Hancock’s been hit on the back of the head and he was bleeding real bad.” I said, directing my attention towards Nick, who I knew was serious and sober enough to take it seriously. “He needs to see a doctor, right away.”

Nick gave a slow, calm nod and smiled in his usual soothing manner. “It’s okay, Evelyn, we know. Piper’s just run to get Doctor Sun up now.”

“Sun up…” MacCready repeated, his lips twisting into a little smirk as he started to chuckle. “Heh… did you even _hear_ how that sounded, Nick?”

I ignored this, far more interested in finding out just what had eventually alerted the guys to our predicament. “How did you all even know where to find us? I didn’t think that Guard was going to bother with letting anyone know where we were.”

“He sure as shit wasn’t.” Cait replied, her lip curling up irritably. “When you didn’t come back after a while, your Mutt started goin’ off of his chops. Pawin’ at the door like he was gonna fucking piss himself or somethin’. Figured we’d best get our asses in gear and followed him. That wet rag of a guard rolled up on us just as we got here; said you were doing time for somethin’.”

“So what was it boss, eh?” Deacon asked, his eyebrows wriggling up and down independently of each other. “Drunk and disorderly? Public urination? Public _fornication?_ ”

“That how you got the bump to the back of your head, Hancock?” Cait chimed in, her smile widening in what I could imagine was genuine delight. “Old Evie bounce your skull off of the Power Noodle counter too hard?”

Hancock gave a depressed, world weary sigh. “Can you believe _that’s_ the story we’ll be telling our kids?” He said and I would have smacked him for going along with Cait’s silliness if he hadn’t been so close to death already.

“You know, they still need to post bail.” Came a weedy sounding voice from beside Nick and it took me a moment to notice that the guard had actually entered the room behind them. Nick sighed, rolling his eyes and looking for the world as though he was beseeching God for patience.

“So now there’s a bail, huh? That would seem to imply that at some point there was a formalized arrest.” Nick murmured, turning slowly so that one glowing eye shot down over the line of his shoulder. I imagine from the guards’ point of view, in the dim light filtering in from outside the jail block, this would have looked menacing as hell. “Judging from the astonished look on my friend’s face there, I’m guessing she’s as ignorant about it as I am.”

“You can say _that_ again!” I exclaimed, wishing there hadn’t been a set of bars between me and the guard so that I could box him around his stupid ears. “The fucking _cheek_ of you! Those kids fucking assaulted _me, we_ gave ‘em a rightful thrashing and then we were dumped in here and left to bleed out and freeze our asses off! I don’t recall having my Miranda rights rattled off in the midst of all that, you blithering butthole!”

“Guess ‘police brutality’ takes on a whole new dimension of incompetence in Diamond City.” Deacon murmured, shaking his head and tutting like a disapproving parent. “Classy man, total class.”

The door whipped open behind the guard’s shoulder and Piper came bustling in then, Doctor Sun square on her heels. He looked as though he hadn’t wasted so much as a second with changing into his day to day attire and had instead thrown a blue bathrobe on over his pinstriped pyjamas. “They’re through here, doc.”

Nick and the others stepped out of the way to allow Dr Sun unobstructed passage to the jail cell but he didn’t approach right away. Instead, he turned to the Diamond City security guard and narrowed his already naturally tapered eyes.

“Is this correct what I’ve been told?” He snapped, his usual brusque tone bearing a thick coat of annoyance. “That you actually placed a man in lock up with a severe head injury?”

The Guard gave an indolent sort of shrug; the kind reserved for most teenagers who hadn’t learnt enough about real world manners. “Hey, wasn’t anything worth worrying you about, doc. Just a drift in and a Ghoul. We had our own to be worrying about first.”

Doctor Sun stepped in so close to the guard that they were now nose to nose and pointed a finger towards the other mans’ face in such an admonishing manner that I myself would have been deeply ashamed to have been on the receiving end of it. “That is _not_ for you to decide. You should have informed me the second you were made aware of the injury. A blow to the head can be potentially fatal if not treated right away. Every minute is crucial. Now unlock the door.”

I wanted to leap up and kiss the man fair on the mouth. I hadn’t ever been entirely sure about Doctor Sun; he always kind of hard and serious and straight to the point, it was difficult to get a clear idea about just what his values were as a human being. This here however was all the proof I needed to see that he was a consummate professional and a man of true integrity. I felt so weak in my gratitude towards him, that I didn’t think I could resist from throwing my arms around his shoulders and crying into his pristine looking blue robe.

The guard on the other hand looked positively gobsmacked and gestured with his swatter towards the cell without so much as taking a step towards it to abide the doctors’ request. “Whaddyou care, doc? It’s just a stupid Ghoul. He shouldn’t have been in the city in the first place.”

The doctors’ irritation, if it had been only a bud to begin with, now burst into a flagrant bloom and his shoulders looked to swell up so that an unseen yet perceptible shadow was thrown upon the room. This was _not_ a man who tolerated backchat or having his time wasted. “ _Who_ and _what_ the client is, is irrelevant. I have a duty of care to everyone in this town; that is a doctors’ code of ethics. And because of your blatant prejudices, the both of us might have had to answer for it. Those children’s injuries were not life threatening and you intentionally misled me in attending to them first without making me aware of this mans’ dire situation. I don’t appreciate being handled. Now _kindly_ unlock this gate and stop wasting my time with your puerile nonsense.”

It was a fair rig rolling and the guard didn’t look the least bit appreciative of being lectured as though he were an insolent child. Fortunately, I think he was smart enough to consider the fact that putting yourself offside with the town doctor wasn’t in a person’s best interests; especially when you worked in the security sector. So he kept his mouth shut this time, though he twisted it irritably all the same as he marched over to the cell door and unlocked it. I was pleased to see that the doctor didn’t bother to thank him and simply pushed himself through the second that the tumblers clacked, with a kind of haughty gesture on his face that I found strangely endearing.

“Rest assured,” He said, turning to glance over his shoulder briefly. “I will be reporting your gross negligence to your immediate supervisor.  Now, step out of the way of the light and switch the overheads on. And you had best hope that I am able to repair whatever damage your gross ineptitude has permitted.”

Deacon and Cait were kind of pumping their fists and making off the cuff comments about the guard being held to task, which they didn’t bother to hide from him as he turned about. He glared at them but didn’t say anything; simply doing now as he was told and switching the overhead lights on so that the room was properly illuminated.

The surrounding gasps confirmed what I myself already knew to be true but even I hadn’t realized just how bad Hancock had been bleeding. The floor around us was dolloped liberally with blood and there was barely an inch of my torso that hadn’t been similarly stained as such. Hancock’s skin looked very pale between the scarring and sunken especially around the eyes. He looked as though he had just been disinterred from a grave for a post-mortem examination. Dr Sun didn’t play into the others reactions and simply tutted to himself, as though the injury was nothing worse than the skinned knee of a child who had fallen off of the monkey bars. This reassured me that the wound was perhaps not as bad as I thought and slipped a tight cap over the rising tide of panic that had been steadily growing in my chest since Hancock and I had been dumped in this cell. My gratitude towards the doctor only continued to grow and as he knelt beside Hancock, placing his industrial size medical kit on the floor beside him, I whispered, “Thank you, doctor.”

He gave an imperial wave of his hand, dismissing my concerns. “There’s no need to thank me. This is my job and there are no exceptions to how I deliver my service.”

Hancock gave a little chuckle as I scooted back, giving the doctor plenty of room to work. “Haven’t changed much, have ya Sun?”

I saw the slightest smile appear on the doctors’ face. I suppose they must have known each other before Hancock had left Diamond city. Guess it would make sense; the doctor was probably around his mid to late fifties, so he might very well have been studying as an intern under the towns’ previous physician. It was more than likely that he would have gotten to know a young, impish John McDonough during that time.

“I could say the same about you. What’s on the outside may be different but you are still just as much a pain in my proverbial as you ever were, John.” Doctor Sun grumbled, putting on a pair of rubber gloves and muttering in an offhand manner, “Not even living in Diamond City and _still_ I am charged with cleaning up your messes…”

Hancock gave him an angelic looking smile and fluttered his eyes; the picture perfect impression of innocence. “Look on the bright side, eh? At least the injury’s not on my ass this time.”

“That is of some comfort, I must admit.” The doctor conceded, turning now to me and snapping his fingers; not producing any sound on account of the gloves but using the gesture to try and aid his memory, I think. “Now… Ms _Hallows_ , isn’t it? Would you assist me with rolling him over onto his side? I just need to examine the injury.”

Hancock snorted derisively as I reached down and placed both hands on his left shoulder. “Jesus doc, I ain’t that fucking frail. Can roll myself over just fine.”

“I’d soon as prefer you remain as still as possible, John. At least until I’m satisfied that there is no injury to your neck. Easy now, try to keep his neck supported with one hand if possible.”

The doctor and I managed to ease a grumbling Hancock over onto his side, revealing the bloodied square of my shirt which had until then been resting under his head. I grabbed it out of the way and tossed it towards the side of the cell.

“I applied pressure to the wound for as long as I could… I think it was about fifteen minutes, it was a little hard to tell the time.” I said, keeping one hand down beneath Hancock’s face, to try and keep it carefully positioned on his neck and the other holding his shoulder steady. “And I felt around the back of the skull but I couldn’t feel an indent. The wound doesn’t seem to have been deep enough to have exposed the skull, either. God, I hope I did the right thing…”

Doctor Sun gave me a quick but reassuring look, quickly touching his fingers to the back of my hand as a means to offer some brief, appropriate comfort. “With what limited resources you had on hand, you did very well. Little more you could do with the abominable position you were put in.” This had been directed towards the Guard most assuredly, but if he realized it, he didn’t bother to respond. “All the same, I’ll just take a look for myself… make certain there wasn’t something you might have missed.”

“Of course.” I said, not concerned that he might have been doubting my opinion on the matter. He was the professional after all. “Would have been easy in the dark.”

Doctor Sun used his gloved fingers to slowly and carefully check over the back of Hancock’s skull; examining the big, painful looking lump that surrounded the wound. After a few minutes of this, he reached into his med kit and took out a small, cylindrical torch. He flicked it on and aimed it down towards the angry looking gash that had split the surprisingly smooth skin on Hancock’s bald pate wide open. The doctor used two of his fingers to press down on the flesh around the wound, only ever so slightly pulling the edges apart so that the light could enter. He examined it carefully for a few moments and then, seemingly satisfied that it did not extend down into the skull, switched the torch off and returned it to his kit.

“Just as you said, the wound isn’t so deep that it penetrated the skull. And the bone itself appears to have not been broken, so that is one small blessing.” He leaned down in the other direction, so that he could reach Hancock’s lower leg, which he distributed a squeeze to. “John? Are you able to feel this?”

Hancock gave a low, sensuous sounding murmur, as though he was being vigorously caressed all over his naked body with baby oil. Good god, _there_ was an image I was going to have a hard time getting out of my head. For so many reasons.

“Ohhh, you got _such_ warm hands, doc…” He said, hamming it up to the extreme. “But should we be doing this while you’re on the clock?”

Doctor Sun didn’t so much as bat an eyelid. “I’ll take that as a yes. How about here?” He moved his hand up to squeeze Hancock’s upper thigh.

“Not sure… maybe you should squeeze a little higher; might be able to feel something then.”

“Lord, you’re impossible.” The doctor grumbled, as I in turn bit my lip to keep from giggling. The fact that Hancock was still fit enough to make jokes at someone else’s expense made me feel a lot more hopeful about his situation. “I’ll assume that both your legs are working just fine. Are you able to move them? Can you wriggle your toes inside your boots?”

I glanced down to see the front of Hancock’s boots dimple and flex a little, showing that he was moving his toes about in his shoes.

“Sure can.” He replied and then rolled his feet from side to side as added proof. “All nine of ‘em.”

Doctor Sun sighed, shaking his head slightly as he placed a hand on the back of Hancock’s neck. “I suppose that’ll have to suffice.” He muttered, using his index finger and thumb to pinch along the lines of the vertebra, checking his spine for any anomalies. “Nothing is out of place… do you have any isolated pain along the length of your spine?”

“If you’re worried I’m paralysed doc, I can assure you now, I ain’t.” Hancock said, raising one of his hands to point back over towards where the toilet was. “Managed to get my ass up to barf before, so that’s got to be something.”

Far from finding this reassuring, Doctor Sun’s head whipped towards me and his brows came down to form a concerned farrow above his dark eyes. “He vomited?”

“So the hell what?” The guard grunted, speaking up for the first time in a while. I had been quite content to pretend as though he hadn’t been in the room at all and he wasn’t helping to sustain the illusion. “The guys clearly drunk outta his brain, ‘course he’s gonna throw up.”

Doctor Sun pinched his eyes shut, looking frustrated. “You would do best to keep your mouth shut, before it makes you look even more of a fool than you already are. Alcohol _may_ have been a contributing factor to be certain but vomiting is a severe side effect of a head injury. He may be suffering from a concussion.” Having spelt this out for the benefit of the guard and perhaps those of us as well who weren’t so informed, he turned back to me and lowered his voice. “Has he seemed confused to you at all? Or has he reported feeling dizzy, having ringing in the ears or trouble staying awake?”

I nodded my head, my eyes blurring with tears once more as I thought back to the horrible battle we had fought here in the cell that long hour or so. “He was unconscious when he was carried in here and I’ve been fighting to keep him awake for the past hour or so. He lost so much blood… I was worried that if I let him nod off…”

Doctor Sun nodded, putting a hand on my shoulder and giving me a squeeze there, to try and keep me focused, I suppose. “You were right to keep him awake. You did a good job.” His hand left my arm and then he turned to look over his shoulder at Nick and the others. “Gentleman? Would you mind helping me carry John back over to the surgery? I’ll be able to treat him with a great deal more ease than in this cell.”

This might have been far too much for the guard to tolerate, because he came forward now, throwing his arm down as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re seriously gonna waste time operating on that _Ghoul_ , doc?”

Before the doctor could respond however, Cait spun around, slapped her open palm against the guards’ breast plate and pushed him hard enough to send him stumbling back two steps. Her eyes were fierce beneath her flaming tangle of red hair and her mouth was twisted into an angry little snarl.

“Oi, ignoramus. You _do_ realize that you’ve got Goodneighbor’s mayor bleedin’ under lock and key there, ya frickin’ idiot.” She snarled, jabbing one finger over her shoulder towards the quietly reposed mayor who so far hadn’t bothered to formally identify himself. “If you’re lookin’ ta get your clock cleaned sometime in the future, that’s definitely the way to guarantee it.”

The guard, who until now been riding high on the waves of pure self-righteous indignation, looked for the first time to be legitimately alarmed and his face paled beneath the batters cage most guards wore for protection.

“That… Ghoul is _Goodneighbors_ mayor?”

Hancock raised his arm high in the air and flapped it about uncaringly. “Hey, it’s all good. I’m not much for preferential treatment just because I’m a Statesman, you know.”

“His Neighborhood watch boys might not be so okay with it though,” MacCready added, his grin so wide it looked as though it might split his rosy cheeks clear up to his ears. “You might have heard, they’ve got the slightest bit of a hard on for their old mayor. Aaaand quite a few issues with chemical dependencies, so I don’t know if it’s the smartest idea to go making ‘em mad, know what I’m saying?”

The guard had now progressed to the stage that he looked genuinely sick, which only caused Deacon to burst out laughing.

“Man, I _love_ seeing someone’s face when the penny finally drops!” He crowed. “Ha! You can literally see the blood seeping down out of his neck!”

Nick turned towards them and made a curt, impatient gesture with his head. “Okay everyone, I think he’s gotten the hint. You wanna get on over here and give me a hand? Because I’m sure as hell not lugging Hancock all the way outta here by myself.”

MacCready gave a shrug as he approached the cell. “Can’t see why not. It’s not like his short ass weighs that much. Be like carrying a _widdle_ toddler.”

“Watch it, _Joseph_ , or I’ll fucking beat your face in with my rattle while you’re sleeping.”

As MacCready, laughing, knelt down and took my place by Hancock’s shoulders, Deacon leaned towards Doctor Sun and asked, “Can I borrow a pair of gloves, doc?”

“I can’t imagine why that would be at all necessary.”

“A lot of that sticky red stuff around. Not sure I wanna go and get any of it on my hands, you know? Considering Hancock’s probably got or at some point in time _had_ every known communicable disease known to the Commonwealth.”

Hancock gave Deacon an angelic looking smile as MacCready hoisted his shoulders up so that they no longer rested on the ground. “Oh, I wouldn’t go worrying about a thing like that, Dipshit. Amount of times I’ve spat in your food while we’ve been travelling? You got everything I’ve got by now.”

Deacon made a ‘yup’ sort of face and shrugged his shoulders accommodatingly. “Cool. Nothing to worry about now, then.” He moved around to Hancock’s side and readied his hands beneath his lower back. Nick took his legs and with a quick nod to the others, they all flexed and lifted as one, bringing Hancock up into the air. I thought he might be embarrassed to not be walking out of here under his own steam but without much of a choice, I suppose he just contented himself to go with it.

“Try and keep your hands to yourselves lads, huh?” He joked as they started shuffling their way out of the cell door.

Deacon laughed as he stepped out first, resuming his place beneath Hancock’s lower back; mainly in place to keep Hancock’s spine straight rather than support the others with lifting his weight, I guessed. “Don’t tell it to me, tell your little snuggle buddy over there. Poor guy was thinkin’ he might have to spend the night alone.”

MacCready’s mouth dropped into a perfect O of outrage. “Are you frickin’ serious? Cut that crap out already, would ya?!”

“You missin’ me, lover?” Hancock purred, reaching up to pet the visible part of MacCready’s fingers, which were poking out through the gaps under his arms. This caused MacCready to almost upend him onto the ground but he managed to recover in time, though his face was flushed so red with indignation that it wouldn’t surprise me if he just went ahead and did it anyway.

“You are so full of it! Keep it up and I’ll just drop your rotten old ass right here on the floor. Only thing that’ll keep you warm tonight will be the giant rats molesting you!”

“Hey, come on now; no need to make the guy homesick.” Deacon cracked and we all actually laughed a little at this; even Hancock. It was something of a relief to know that he was still able tolerate hearing jokes about being molested without being overwhelmed with his past memories. At the very least, those assholes hadn’t been able to take that away from him; that irrepressible _joie de vivre_ he had.

Content that he was in (somewhat) safe hands, I pulled myself up slowly off of the floor. I was only really aware then of how much my own body was aching. I’d been so focused on Hancock until now; terrified for his life, preoccupied with making sure that he was seen to and stabilized that I had just about forgotten my own injuries. The doctor had not been so remiss however and as I scrambled up, he turned to me and said, “Hold still for just a moment.”

I did as I was told, keeping my head steady as the doctor tilted my chin up with his fingertips and turned my face slightly. He looked at my bruised cheek, made his characteristic little tutting sound and brought one hand up to inspect the wound.

“This might sting a bit,” He said and by golly gosh it did, but I kept still, biting my lip against the pain as he fingered the bone there, checking for breaks. When he was satisfied that the bone was still intact, he knelt down and extracted a Stimpak from his medical kit. I stiffened immediately at the sight of it; my ever present fear of needles still not overcome after the myriad of injections I had been forced to receive during my time in the Commonwealth. “There doesn’t appear to be a break. I’ll give you a Stimpak for that, should bring the bruising down right away and heal the tissue. Closest to the injury is preferable, I am sorry. It won’t be particularly nice but I’ll make it as quick as possible, okay?”

I looked off to the side, biting my lip and whimpering softly as he took the cap off the Stimpak and flicked his fingernail against the tube to clear out the air bubbles. Piper noticed my discomfort immediately and, being familiar with my fear of needles, stepped into the cell and grabbed my hand, wrapping her other arm around my own to keep me steady.

“It’s okay, Blue. Less painful than a Stingwing sting.” She said, her oft go to statement for whenever an injection was required. I was well aware of this but a phobia has got no rationality that calms it and she needed to keep my trembling body steady as the doctor slid the needle into the fattest part of my check and slowly depressed the syringe. I kept my eyes shut, clenching my fist, my arms shaking violently from my physical endurance against the rush of fear that begged to pitch ever upward into an uncontrolled scream. It was over reasonably fast but you would think that I had run a marathon from the amount of puffing I did as soon as he slid the needle out. Honestly. Having been pregnant I had gone through far worse in regards to injections, but I _still_ wasn’t able to overcome my fear. I regressed straight back to a terrified three year old, struggling on the GP’s table whilst my father tried to hold me still.

“There. It’s over now. Well done.” The doctor said and his expression didn’t even so much as suggest that he thought me stupid for my fearful reaction. I was growing fonder of him by the minute. “Now. Do you have any other injuries? The Stimpak should see to most of them but do you require anything to be stitched first?”

I shook my head, no. My tongue was still sore from where I had bitten it but with the Stimpak now running through my system, this would be set to rights soon enough. “I’m fine doctor, thankyou. Just please…help Hancock.”

“That’s what I intend to do. Just let me know afterwards if there is anything further that you need in the way of treatment, okay?” Without waiting for a reply, Doctor Sun turned and followed the boys out of the cell and through the jail door. With Piper’s hand still pressed reassuringly into my own, I picked up Hancock’s hat and jacket from the floor, giving both a brush off. They hadn’t come into contact with the blood, thank goodness and when I picked up my night-night shirt, I made well and good to keep it separate from his own clothing, not wanting to dirty them.

Dogmeat slunk into the prison cell and pressed his cold wet nose to my wrist, his ears set flat against his head in a look of concern. I knelt over to press my lips to the valley between his eyes and smiled at him.

“Thanks for coming to find us, my darling. I owe you about a hundred belly rubs and a whole half a Brahmin for dinner tomorrow night, I think.”

Dogmeat woofed in agreement, his tail beating out a crescendo across the prison bars as he whipped his butt enthusiastically from side to side. He trotted at my hip as Piper and I made our way out of the cell, joining up with Cait who was leaning against the exit door to keep it open. All three of us shot dirty looks at the guard as we left. I wanted to say something, to really drive in the anger and resentment that I felt towards him but what would be the point? He knew he was in deep shit; having to deal with that ever present fear was sufficient. At least for now.

“Is any of that yours, love?” Cait asked, pointing to my pyjamas as we stepped out into the ever more frigid cold of the night. I glanced down, sighing at how much blood had seeped into my pyjama pants and sweater. I was a little embarrassed as well to see that part of my breast was visible through a hole in the jumper. Not that anyone would have noticed with everything else that was going on but I took a moment now to adjust it, so that my areola was safely tucked out of sight.

“No, it’s mostly Hancock’s.” I replied, satisfied that the sweater was now sitting modestly. “Little bit from those brats after we gave ‘em a good smack.”

“So, what did they do to get you guys so riled up?” Piper asked, raising one of her perfectly slender brows at me. She was stumbling just a little bit, evidence of the amount that she had drunk that night but she seemed reasonably focused all things considered. They all must have been worried enough to have sobered up somewhat; the thought of which was strangely touching.

I gave them the abridged version of what had happened with the teens; explaining that we had actually been attempting to walk away from a confrontation when the little shits had seen fit to yank down my pants and make a play for my under things to boot. Even Cait’s mouth dropped a little; though I think her shock was contextual. Perhaps this was an act not unfamiliar to her but to hear of it happening in Diamond City… _that_ was the outrageous part.

“What the fuck? Are you serious?!” She exclaimed, looking for all intents and purposes as though she might now take off into the night in search of the offenders.

“Jesus Blue, what the hell?” Piper added, her lips twisted off centre so that she appeared truly sickened. I could understand why. I mean, she _lived_ in this town. Her little sister lived in this town. If there were people here that were able to do such a thing to me, when I had been in the company of a veritable badass like Hancock, it would have made her wonder just how safe her own sibling was to be out alone.

I gave a sigh, pulling Hancock’s jacket tighter under my arm as it started slipping out my grip. “As you can imagine, Hancock got pissed and then he started laying into them. And that’s when one of the little pricks beamed him on the back of the head.”

Piper exhaled a troubled sounding breath. “God and here I was thinking that Goodneighbor was where they kept most of the assholes. Are you all right though Blue?”

I shrugged, not entirely sure how to feel. I mean, _personally_ I felt okay but I was wracked with so much anxiety regarding Hancock. Not just his injuries but what I had found out there in that cell; about that terrible thing that had happened to him… My heart hurt for all the worry and all the pain and I felt it may very well do so for some time. “Better than Hancock. It was just scary in there, is all… thought he was gonna toddle off at any moment…”

Piper grunted, her pretty face wrinkled tight with disgust as she turned it up into the cold air. “Typical political bullshit. That’s Diamond City for ya. People going missing all the time, racial prejudice running rife… McDonough’s priorities are completely out of whack.”

“Heh, bet the stupid fat prick’s gonna be shittin’ his pants when he finds out what happened.” Cait chortled to herself, gesturing up towards the Mayors’ office as we passed by it. The lights were still on, strangely enough and I wondered if news of what had occurred might be making its’ up to him even as we spoke. “I sure as hell wouldn’t want all of Goodneighbor pissed off and bangin’ down me door.”

“Don’t suppose it makes any difference that Hancock’s his brother, right?” Piper asked, giving me a curious look. “Wonder if he’ll try to touch base with him while we’re here…?”

I gave a shrug, honestly unsure of this myself. “You saw before, they don’t want to even acknowledge one another, Piper. For McDonough, it’ll all be political, I guarantee it. If he _does_ pop round to see Hancock, it’ll just be as a fence mending gesture and nothing more.”

“And Hancock’ll probably just give him the bird anyway.” Cait added, chuckling to herself. Hearing her laugh reminded me then of who hadn’t appeared in the jail cell during our bail and I turned towards Cait, offering up a little smile.

“So where’s Travis while all this is going on? Don’t tell me our little rescue mission went and dragged you out of _flagrante delicto_?”

She pulled a face at me as though I had said something truly offensive. “Hey, never you mind about what’s getting’ dragged out of my… _delicto_ , thankya very much. Which _ain’t_ much, if I’m bein’ honest with meself.”

“Oh man… don’t tell me he actually bailed on you?”

Cait pursed her lips with obvious annoyance. “Wasn’t quite like that. Had ourselves quite the snog outside and I thought he mighta got the gumption to take me back to his pad but he just said he ‘wanted to see me again’.”

Maybe I was just a tiny bit old fashioned because to me this sounded like a very acceptable and gentlemanly deed on Travis’s part; taking far more ‘gumption’ than simply going along for a one night stand. Cait, I know had been expecting sex but I for one was honestly kind of relieved that Travis had been gallant enough to have denied the temptation. Perhaps he was interested in fostering something at a potentially deeper level with Cait and felt that a roll in the proverbial hay might have tarnished his chances. “Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it? Means he’s keen.”

“That’s what _I’ve_ been trying to tell her,” Piper added, leaning around me to offer Cait a conciliatory look. As if to say ‘ _See? Told you so!’_ “But Cait seems to think if a guy doesn’t want it right that _second_ , then he doesn’t want it at all. Isn’t that how you so charmingly put it?”

“Just ain’t my normal run a things, that’s all.” Cait grumbled, looking down at the ground as we watched the boys pause by Doctor Sun’s set up, keeping Hancock aloft as the doctor rushed about, pulling things out from under his counter top. Deacon and MacCready were taking it in turns to raise and lower him as though he was crowd surfing, which looked to be pissing Nick off to no ends. “Can’t say tonight was _anything_ like I’m used to, come to think of it. We talked, danced… had a few drinks, a snog. Kid was actually nice to me. Fucking weird.”

I smiled, amused by the fact that she was genuinely so surprised by Travis’s manner. And a little saddened as well; to think that true gentlemen had been in such short supply in her life that she was only able to see her worth in their men's eyes as a sexual partner and nothing more. “Well, why shouldn’t he be? You _did_ kind of empty your tits out onto the table in front of everyone.” We all shared a little laugh at this, which I think made Cait feel better. “Is it really so odd to think that he might just genuinely like you as a person and might know more about you than just what’s underneath your clothes?”

Cait scoffed dismissively. “Shows how little he knows me then. Don’t get my leg over him soon, he’s liable to learn too much and run like a busted kidney.”

Piper pulled a face at this. “Charming analogy aside, Travis is a good guy, Cait. I don’t think it would hurt you to give him a chance.”

“Piper’s right.” I said, taking some mean delight in teasing Cait about _her_ romantic prospects for a change. Turnabout’s fair play, as the saying goes. “Try not to punish him out of vanity’s sake. Just because he didn’t want to sleep with you the first night you met, doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to.” My hands were full, so I lowered my face to the point where I could poke Cait’s shoulder with my nose, giving her a pointed look as I did. “There _are_ those few rare decent men who actually have respect enough to not try it on the second they meet a woman.”

With a quick glance towards the rest of the group, Cait leaned closer and lowered her voice so that only Piper and I were able to hear her. “Speaking of which, Evie; you and Hancock were gone a hell of a long time. Couldn’t have been locked up in that jail cell the whole while you lit on outta the bar.” She raised both brows at me inquiringly. “I’m thinkin’ maybe our Big Bad Ghoul might not have been such a gentleman himself tonight, am I right?”

For fucks sake, she never stopped with this bloody match making crap, did she? I rolled my eyes and leaned my shoulder against hers, so that I pushed her out of my immediate space. “No, you’re way off the mark, young madam. We just went for a walk.”

“Told you she’d have too much sense.” Piper shot over my shoulder. Cait grunted back, looking genuinely disgusted.

“Fucking unbelievable.” She grumbled, crossing her arms and shifting her weight dramatically over onto her side so that her hip jutted out at an angle that would likely draw the eye of every heterosexual male wandering past. “The two of you are gonna be so dried out, by the time you do have sex you’ll probably catch fire like old kindling and all the Neighborhood watch’ll find is a pair of charred corpses locked in the doggy style.”

Piper groaned and clutched a hand to her stomach. “Okay, seriously Cait? I’ve had a buttload to drink tonight. Do you want me to keep _any_ of it down?”

I put all of this off to the side now, more concerned with finding out how Hancock was doing. Dogmeat kept tight to my heels as I stepped closer to the surgery so that I could see clearly what was going on.

Doctor Sun had unravelled a bedroll across the floor and was currently in the process of draping it with a hygiene sheet. The second that it had settled, he gestured for the boys to lower Hancock onto it and then indicated for him to turn over onto his stomach. He prepared a syringe with a local anaesthetic and injected this into the back of Hancock’s head. I winced, my own fear pitching again at the sight of the needle entering the thin skin wrapping about his skull but Hancock didn’t make so much as a peep, nor did he flinch. He just lay there calmly, humming to himself with his chin resting on his crossed arms. God, he irritated the shit out of me sometimes. Here I was scared to within an inch of my life for his safety and he was acting like he was down by the bloody beach, tanning his ass.

As Doctor Sun cleaned and stitched up the wound, he explained to us that he wasn’t able to use a Stimpak right away for two reasons; one, the injury had been left too long and needed to be cleaned first and also because the edges of the wound were too far apart and would need to be brought in close so that it could knit correctly. Hancock kept very still during the whole procedure, though he did make a few jokes here and there about the doctor touching him up and for once giving him a prostate check when he had been only thirteen years old. Doctor Sun to his credit, managed to ignore him the entire time.

He did get his revenge however by preparing a Stimpak and then pulling down the back of Hancock’s pants just enough to inject it into one of his ass cheeks. This was the first time in the whole process I actually saw Hancock wince with pain. The doctor hadn’t exactly been delicate.

“Ow! Hey, come on doc. People are trying to eat their noodles over there!” Hancock protested bringing one hand up to hold his shirt down as Doctor Sun took his sweet time depressing the plunger of the syringe. The act took me as much by surprise as it did Hancock I think and I held my fingers over my chest as my face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and repressed feminine desire. I might have turned away and given the poor Ghoul some privacy like the others (exempting Cait, who didn’t even both to look as though she was doing anything other than staring) but I was genuinely curious as to what Hancock’s skin looked like under his clothes. Not to mention that I was clearly a pervert who hadn’t had much opportunity to see a man’s bottom for a while and didn’t mind having the chance to do so. Well, exempting Deacon’s earlier on in the evening but hey, it’s not like there’s a limit on how much ass a gal can check out, right?

Just as I had expected, Hancock had a nice, firm little butt, even in spite of the scarring that marred the surface of the flesh. He was so trim and taut in fact that I wondered how much effort it might have taken the good doctor to push the syringe in because I couldn’t see much evidence of fat from where I was standing. Good grief, it was like looking at two perfectly firm little globes. I could even see the long white scar that stretched across from one cheek to the next; where his mother had whipped him with radio antenna, just as he had said.

Seeing this immediately shot my mind back to what he had told me in the cell; about the other whipping he had endured at the hands of the Wranglers and I raised my eyes quite independently of my own manners, to see if I was able to make out the brand mark they had left on his back. His shirt tail covered it however and his hand was pressed firmly down against this, to prevent it from falling astray and exposing the brand, most likely. He didn’t want anyone seeing it and I couldn’t blame him in the slightest for this.

“Well… goodness me.” I murmured, chuckling like a giddy, ovulating old pervert. I had a feeling similar to what I had experienced on my Hen’s night, when my girlfriends had hired a male stripper and I made every effort to pretend as though I wasn’t overwhelmed with the desire to tear his pants off with my teeth. “This night has certainly… taken an interesting turn now, hasn’t it John?”

Hancock smacked his fist against the ground, clearly in pain from the slow languid approach Doctor Sun was taking with the injection and turned to glare up at me. “For fucks sake Munch, could you look the other way?! This is bad enough without you staring down at my goddamn crack!”

“Heh… nope.” I replied, smiling meanly as I fanned my chest with my hand; the flush having travelled down my neck and further still. “Consider this payback for you-know-when.”

“When was ‘you-know-when?’” Cait asked, glancing only briefly towards me before then turning back to stare at Hancock’s bare bottom.

“Never you mind, missy. Just know that this is revenge well overdue and leave it at that.”

Hancock groaned unhappily and hissed with pain, slapping his palm to the floor like a wrestler calling for a time-out. “Jesus doc, are you fucking done yet?”

Doctor Sun gave an innocent smile, clearly playing the angle for all it was worth. “Almost there, John. Fluid’s congealing a little… must be cold from where I had it stored in the fridge. Shouldn’t take too long. It’s not hurting, is it?”

“You’re damn right it is! Think you jabbed me right to the fucking _bone_!”

“Oh, I think that’s highly unlikely.” Doctor Sun simpered and I saw him give the syringe a visible wiggle, which caused Hancock to collapse back down against the hygiene sheet; clenching it between his fingers and swearing like a sailor with Tourette’s syndrome. It shouldn’t have been funny but to see someone as irrepressible as Hancock brought undone by the purely immovable force that was Doctor Sun… seemed that the universe had a way of setting things to rights. Not to mention that he deserved a little of it, for taking such a casual approach to his own injury and leaving me to do all the worrying for him. A sore ass cheek would save me from having to stick my boot to it after.

After less than a minute of swearing and complaining from Hancock, Doctor Sun eventually depressed the last of the fluid from the Stimpak. “All done.” He said, smiling as he removed the syringe and plucked Hancock’s pants back up into place. “Though perhaps you might benefit in the future from learning when not to behave like a cur, young John. After all, a Stimpak is most effective when administered near the wound itself. But that is a privilege I give only to those who remember their manners.” He rounded off by smacking his hand down onto Hancock’s ass, directly where the shot had been delivered, which sent the Ghoul to wincing unhappily once again. “Cause and effect, as they say.”

Cait broke the following silence by emitting a low whistle of approval. “Weeelll… that’s not a bad arse, Hancock. Wasn’t quite sure what to expect with a Ghoul but… none too shabby. Might have to rethink my position about shackin’ up with a shuffler.”

Hancock groaned, not looking the least flattered as he reached back to rub his ass cheek. “Damn it Eve, you’re a lawyer. I’ll hire you to sue his maltreating ass! He’s violating his ethical oath to treat patients with compassion!”

“Honey, I’d be throwing money away if I took that case.” I chuckled, turning to Doctor Sun as he climbed to his feet and disposed of the used syringes in a sharps container on his bench top. “Seriously though. Thankyou so much for helping him, doctor.”

Doctor Sun gave a brief, jutting nod of his head, taking a moment to tighten the cord of his bathrobe. “Of course, it was nothing. I’m afraid I will have to charge you a late call out fee, however.”

Hancock made another low, grumbling moan as he rolled onto his side, looking as though he very much did not want to risk putting weight on his backside. He gestured to me. “Just pay him outta what I got in my pockets there, Munch. Should be enough to cover it.”

I worked out the cost with the doctor and paid him the number of caps he required in exchange for his service. Hardly seemed like enough to me; given everything he had done and I wanted to give him a tip for the way that he had handled that arrogant guard but he waved it away.

“The usual fee will be sufficient, thank you. He should be fine for the rest of the night but alert me at once if there are any changes to his behaviour; namely confusion or dizziness. Take him back to the inn and get him settled into bed. Plenty of fluids.” He held up a cautionary finger. “Water, _only_. He’ll be fine to sleep now, so just keep an eye on him as best you can. He’ll be plenty tired after all that blood loss. Use a cold compress to bring down the swelling. If you have any concerns, at any time, do not hesitate to come and find me.”

Nick flashed a smile in the doctors’ direction, turning back around now that Hancock’s bottom was safely tucked back out of sight. “We appreciate your professionalism, doc. Ain’t enough of your kind out there, that’s for sure.”

Doctor Sun sighed. “Then more’s the pity, because I should not serve as the only exception to the rule. I’ll pop around before my shift commences tomorrow morning and see how he’s doing.”

“What? No prescription for pain relief, doc?” Hancock piped up from the ground. The doctor glanced down at him impatiently.

“I’m sure you have enough of your own to be getting on with, John. Now, if you’ll all excuse me.”

 He took his leave of us, pulling his bathrobe tighter about himself as he headed in the direction of his home. The moment his back was turned, Hancock immediately started struggling up onto his own feet, ignoring our combined protests that he needed support to get back to the Dugout Inn. After taking a few very wobbly steps, he conceded defeat and allowed Nick to give him a hand; leaning only so very slightly into his side, whilst Nick kept a firm arm around his upper back.

It was an awkward journey but we finally managed to get his stubborn ass back to the motel and even then it was a battle to try and make him take the bed. Even Piper was willing to concede that the mattress would be better support for his neck and head but Hancock refused out of hand, stating that only a jackass would take a bed and force a woman to sleep on the floor. The debate ended when Deacon, MacCready and Nick simply lost their patience, picked him up and pinned him down to the bed; insisting that he stay put or he’d get a smacking. Hancock just stared back with a huffy look on his face that plainly said he was going to scurry off of the bed the moment everyone’s back was turned; just to spite them. Deacon, like me, must have spoken fluent Hancock because he immediately perched himself on the end of the bed, legs crossed and proceeded to guard the Ghoul from his lemming like compulsion to hurl himself onto the floor.

Content that he was safe for the moment, I allowed myself a good ten minutes to take care of my own ablutions. After fetching a fresh change of clothes, I wandered back into the bathroom and stripped off the bloodied pyjamas and tossed them into the laundry trough; filling it with hot water and some washing powder. I pulled my night shirt around myself, leaving it unbuttoned for the moment as I used a scrub brush to try and get out most of the stains in the fabric. The water became a filthy color as I struck the course bristles back and forth across the pyjamas, knowing even as I did that they were hardly likely to ever look as soft or as clean as they had before. I was still preoccupied intensely with the need to try however; to keep focused on something so that the feelings I had been adamantly avoiding all night wouldn’t have a chance to rise to the surface.

I rinsed out the dirtied water and poured a fresh batch, adding another capful of powder so that the fabric could soak for a while. This would have to do until morning, when I could have another shot at it. Or Codsworth might even be willing to try some of his magic tricks. Whatever the case, my body was in just about as filthy a state as the material had been and I shucked off the shirt that had been hanging limply about me and turned on the shower; as hard and as hot as I could handle it.

It took ages to get all of the blood off of my skin. Most of it had dried and it caked off into brittle flakes as I scrubbed my thighs and stomach; turning the water around my feet dusky brown.

It was surreal to think that all this red had only hours before been swimming beneath Hancock’s skin; no doubt thickened by Chems and alcohol. And now, through such a random, unanticipated attack, it was here clinging to me so stalwartly. Small stems of it had crept into my bellybutton and I had to fish my finger inside to clean this little indentation out. There were spots on my breasts, though not nearly as much as my thighs and stomach; Jesus, I looked as though _I_ had been the one injured. I took a bar of soap to myself, wanting to be clean and feeling somehow an overwhelming sense of frustration and anger whenever I found a spot of blood that I had somehow missed…

A choking sob came out of me and I slammed the soap back into the shower caddy, pressing both hands against the slick tiles of the far wall. My shoulders shook as the repressed wails that had been forced down deep inside of me all night long came now; unbidden and out of control. I tried to keep my lips pinched so that the sound wouldn’t travel past the pounding of the water; but all this did was send my body into harder, deeper shudders as I fought to get breath in through my nose.

I thought of Hancock; broken and bleeding on the pavement, that crowbar smashing into his head. It was only blind fortune that had led to him not being killed in that instance. One small stroke of luck. And then that other image; the one that was even worse. Him, pinned beneath two monstrous men; tortured, branded, raped… His mouth stuffed full of caps, being thrown out onto the street and into the gutter; so badly injured he wasn’t even able to _walk._

All those poor drifters of Goodneighbor must have suffered so terribly; far more than I could ever possibly imagine. This was why Hancock was so defensive; he saw the contrast, the deep and terrible hell from which they had so tirelessly climbed. From such bleak and terrible beginnings, how could they possibly ever have perspective enough to differentiate between subtle degrees of wellbeing? For the Nine of Goodneighbor, there were only two existences; With Vic and After Vic. And After Vic might not have been perfect but it had to have been an infinite improvement over what they had been forced to suffer and endure under Vic’s reign.

Hancock had been able to see it my way but I had been too ignorant and self-righteous to even attempt to understand where he was coming from. Hancock wasn’t out hurting innocent people. He didn’t steal from his community, victimize them, bully them, or force them into such poverty that they needed to sell themselves for money. And he certainly didn’t send out goon squads to crush their spirts and assault them.

It hadn’t entirely shocked me to have learned that Hancock had been tentatively involved in the sex industry either. Well, in whatever form it had existed in Goodneighbor back in the day. Nothing about this world surprised me; nor what people were driven to do or indeed decided to do, just so that they might be able to eat for one more day. I didn’t judge anyone for that. Hell, I didn’t judge prostitution back in my own time. Everyone has their own individual story to tell after all.

It was simply the idea of anyone hurting him… making the intrepid and plucky John Hancock a victim; _this_ was what refused to sit at all with me. And even more so than that; wishing desperately that I could reach back into the past, grab those two bastards by the throats and strangle the life out of them.

And Hancock had thought that he was _diseased_ from their touch. Thought that a sickness had infiltrated his body. Had been trying to assure me beyond all doubt that he had been safe when he had been sleeping with clients, that he had been checked out… perhaps concerned that I might have recoiled from him, or freaked out later when I saw how much of his blood I had gotten on me.

It was true; I _had_ felt dirty. But not because of his past or the terrible things that had happened to him. I felt dirty because Hancock had been _hurt_. In times past, beyond my reach and in times recent, when I had been unable to prevent it. To see him hurt, wounded or… ashamed… This pain resonated through me; made my legs and my body weak. Made me feel completely and utterly helpless, out of touch, stupid and pathetic.

And so I stood there for what felt like the longest time, sobbing like an indulgent idiot until I felt as purely drained as I suppose might have been possible. That was always the problem with drinking; it was a double edged blade, one side promising fun times and laughter but the other side reflecting back your sadness and troubles. Dredging out all that emotion must have done me some good however and it was better to do it then and there, where no one was able to see it, than risk rolling and wailing into my pillow during the night; waking everybody up. I felt a little lighter for having let it out; as though all the muscles in my mind had been given a deep tissue massage. Though my face in turn felt swollen and puffy as shit.

After my shower, I tidied myself up as best I could and returned to the kitchen area with a few of the hot water bottles; setting the kettle to boil on the stove top. Vadim and Scarlet had left for the evening and the bar itself was almost empty; with the exception of Cait and MacCready, who were set up at one of the tables with a night cap each. They looked as though they were playing cards by the light of a lone lantern and the sound of their voices echoed a little in the near empty room. Yefim was removing the evenings’ takings from the cash register and separating them carefully into specific piles on the counter top; bagging up those that he was satisfied with and placing them then into a larger bag. I supposed that he must have a safe on site; perhaps in the room that he himself used. Vadim had his own home in the city proper, whilst Yefim slept at the Inn in order to respond directly to any client concerns or issues. Seemed like a rather content way to run a business and much more comfortable than having to spend hours in transit like I had to do in the past.

When the jug was boiled I filled the water bottles up around roughly three quarters and then topped each with a little cold water, squeezing out the excess air so that there was no risk of them bursting during the night. I had heard a terrible story of this occurring once when I had been a child and whether it was true or not, the fear of it had made me extra conscious around hot water bottles. Which was probably a good thing. I didn’t want to be responsible for giving anyone I cared about a good scalding on top of all the other trials we had to face.

I wrapped each water bottle in a hand towel and tucked a few under my arms, whilst I carried the rest in my hands. The cloth kept the rubber material from heating up too much, just in case anyone wanted to put their feet on them during the night. I gave MacCready and Cait a little wave as I carried my load over towards the inn, wishing both them and Yefim a good night before pushing my way into room number one.

Deacon was curled up on the base of the single bed, snoring soundly with his glasses hanging crooked from the side of his face. Hancock had, just as I suspected, made his way back over to his bedroll and was tucked in quite contentedly; slurping from a tin of purified water and rubbing Dogmeat’s belly. Codsworth was powered down in the corner, his eye cams clicked into place along his side and an orange light flashing intermittently from his chassis.

I gave Hancock a scolding look as I used my hip to click the door shut behind me. “God you’re a stubborn bastard.”

He returned a small, satisfied smile as he continued to scratch the deep slope of Dogmeat’s chest. He was wearing the white shirt that he normally slept in; unbuttoned just as low on his chest as his usual day to day attire. “I got my reasons.” He paused then and gave me a closer look, his mouth losing its humorous little quirk and he raised his head slightly from his pillow. “You’ve been crying, Munch.”

How on earth he could have figured that out was a mystery to me, as I had cleaned and wiped my face as carefully as can be before leaving the bathroom. The puffiness _must_ have come down whilst I’d been milling in the kitchen as well, surely?

I did my best to play it down, offering a careless shrug as I made my way over to the bed, placing the water bottles down and then pushing gently against Deacon’s shoulder to tilt him over onto his side.

“Don’t know where you’re pulling _that_ from.” I said, bringing the bedsheets up over Deacon’s body before taking his glasses off, folding them carefully and placing them on the bedside table. I raised the sheets at the base of the bed and tucked one of the hot water bottles in beside his feet.

Hancock gestured towards his face. “Your eyes are all bloodshot.”

I wave a hand dismissively as I went around to both Cait, MacCready’s and my own bedroll, placing hot water bottles in and covering them up. “Just got some shit in my eyes in the shower, is all. Might have rubbed them a little hard.”

“Pull the other one.”

I grumbled in irritation as I pulled aside Hancock’s bedlinen and lifted one of his ankles so that I could tuck a water bottle in beneath his feet. “Given everything that happened tonight… maybe I’m just the slightest bit weepier than I might normally be, sure.”

“Been through a lot worse in our time than a little rough up with a couple of shithead kids, Munch.” His brows came down into the smallest admonishing frown. “You ain’t been in there grizzling because of what I told you tonight, have you?”

I pursed my lips as I tugged his bedsheets back over his legs, perhaps more roughly than was strictly necessary and then climbed back to my feet. “Well, forgive me if it breaks my heart to hear that people did such a horrible thing to you in the past, Hancock.” I said, a tear rolling traitorously down my face even as I said it. I brushed at my cheek impatiently, turning my back on him so that I could regain control and using this opportunity to give Codsworth a gentle pat to the silver dome of his body. I wasn’t sure just how much these gestures he was aware of, especially when he was powered down but it made difference to me none. We were family after all. “My head may be full of rocks, but the rest of me isn't made of stone. Especially not when it comes to people I care about.”

Hancock hefted a deep sigh, though there was no irritation in his tone. I heard a tapping sound and glanced over to see him patting his hand against the bedroll beside him; which just so happened to be my own anyway. “Come on Munch. Get over here.”

I dipped my head a little as I made my way to his side, kneeling down on the doona before dropping inelegantly sideways onto my hip. Hancock took his hand off of the bedroll and placed it on my knee instead, giving it a gentle rub.

“Knowing that you care is more touching than I can even put words to,” He said softly and when I finally looked up to his face, I saw what a contented smile he wore; his eyes half lidded and drowsy. “But all that stuff… it was a long time ago. I was a different person then. I’m a different person _now_. And whatever nonsense I rattled off to you in that cell, shouldn’t suggest that I’m dragging all that shit around with me for a free ride everywhere I go. I just wanted to be honest with you about why I acted such a fucking clown when I woke up.”

“I know.” I said, smiling back and raising my eyes so that they swung up towards the ceiling. I was trying to keep any more tears from leaking out and it seemed to work for the moment. I gave Hancock’s hand a squeeze with my own. “It’s the same with me. And I don’t wanna make it any bigger than Ben Hur, not at all. You just need to understand that I’m going to be upset at times, ‘specially when I find out that people I care about have been hurt. That’s just the way it rolls.” I gave his hand a little rock from side to side. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring it all up again.”

“It’s all good.” He said, reaching under his head with his spare hand and bringing out what looked to be a blue gel pack. Dugout Inn actually had a working refrigerator, so I imagine that one of the others must have arranged this whilst I was in the shower. I took the gel pack from Hancock and gave it a squeeze. It was still reasonably cold, so I refolded it in few places and then tucked it back under his noggin; up against the lump and the still healing stitches.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, using the back of my fingers to feel around his face; checking for a temperature. I’m not sure how useful this was, or whether he was likely to even _have_ a temperature but we had been out in the cold for a while. Besides, like my mother always said; a human touch when you’re feeling shit is often the greatest comfort and the most useful medicine.

“Bit dizzy. Head’s smartin’ like a son of a gun. Not to mention that fucking extra hole the doc decided to bore in my ass. Think he was trying to strike oil.” He curled his lips up unattractively. “Was gonna give myself a jab of the old Med-X to help me nod off but Valentine must’ve read my mind. Confiscated my little bag of tricks and whisked ‘em off to his office for the night.”

“Good man.” I said, relieved for how on the ball Nick was when it came to things like that. “Surprised you didn’t crawl across the room after him.”

“How’d you think I ended up on the floor?” He asked and I chuckled softly, uncertain as to whether he was actually joking or not. Wouldn’t have surprised me in the least if Nick had been forced to wrestle the bag of chems from Hancock’s determined little paws. And Hancock wasn't the type to riffle through someone else's belongings and help himself to any of their drugs, so it looked as though he was stuck managing his pain the old fashioned way. Which would have been giving him the veritable shits, knowing him.

“Well, maybe this’ll help instead.” I said, taking up his right hand and using both my own to rub into his palm, gently digging my thumbs into his vein lines and then slowly working pressure down towards his fingertips. As expected, Hancock hefted a deep, throaty sigh, sinking down into his pillow; a big dopey smile stretching across his face and his eyes sinking into half-mast. Like most people, Hancock wasn’t predisposed towards being massaged but it also served the dual purpose in relaxing his damaged and often sore skin; which pressed tight against his muscles during the evenings, causing him additional pain. He had been pretty dismissive and avoidant of discussing this early on in our travels but it wasn’t difficult to figure out what was going on. Not when he sat there of an evening grumbling to himself and rubbing his thumb irritably into the palm of his hand.

“Munch, you are a fucking _angel_.” He sighed, tilting his head towards me and offering up another slightly self-deprecating smile. “I, uh... I guess I pretty much made an ass of myself tonight, didn’t I?”

“Oh, no more than usual, I should think.” I chuckled, twisting my thumbs up so that I could work on the rise of his knuckles, one at a time. I admired once more the shape of his hands whilst I worked; the firm palm, the long slender fingers… not even the withering of his flesh or the splitting skin could take away from how aesthetically pleasing they were. “Of course not, darl. Why would you even think that?”

He grunted in the back of his throat, tufting a small peak in Dogmeat’s fur distractedly; right on the highest curve of the pooches’ chest. “Oh, all that shit I was going on with in the cell… don’t know why I felt like I needed to go and tell you that. Get you upset for no good reason.”

I looked at him pointedly, hating that he seemed to feel embarrassed and regretful over being honest with me in the first place. “You don’t need to try and overanalyse it, Hancock. The point is, that you felt you needed to. And I’m glad you felt safe enough with me to talk about these things.” I pushed my fingers up between his own and then back, rubbing at the sore looking spaces between them. “We all need someone in this world who we can be our complete uncensored selves around. And if that’s who I can be for you… well, it’s an honor.”

His fingers closed around mine tightly all of a sudden and I glanced down at him to see him staring into my eyes with a very serious expression on his usually relaxed face. “Am I a safe person for you, Munch?”

I looked back at him unflinchingly and without reservation as to how I was going to reply. I just went with it; that true feeling of emotion that was welling up inside of me and tightened my fingers around his own, so that my fingertips curled down into his palm. “Yes.” I murmured, casting my eyes over towards Dogmeat and then adding, not entirely untruthfully. “Well… you and Dogmeat, of course.”

We both chuckled at this, which was kind of him because a lot of guys wouldn’t have let me get away with a deflection like that. Some men were such control freaks that they needed you to commit wholly and acutely to a response like this; otherwise they felt as though you weren’t taking them seriously. I think Hancock knew me well enough to understand that I was shy when it came to some matters and he wasn’t so much a bully as to attempt to lure me out of my comfort zone. He knew that I often used humor as shield; to soften the edges of matters that I might have had difficulty dealing with for whatever the reason.

He drew me back in towards the deeper meaning of his statement however, insistent that his feelings were not ignored, though gentle and temperate in how he did so. His black eyes lingered on our entwined hands; his thumb rubbing over my own in a soothing gesture. “Seriously though; thanks for what you did for me tonight.” He murmured, his lips hitching into a distracted smile. “You really are somethin’, you know that? Kicking ass and stemming wounds. I may have just gone and met my match.”

I gave a little smirk, feeling truly embarrassed by his honesty now and tried to diffuse it a little. “Come on; we’re a team. What did you think I was gonna do; leave you out to dry after you went and defended my virtue the way you did?”

He raised his left hand from Dogmeat’s stomach and give it a flippant wave. “Ah, just pissed me off that those kids got to see your ass and I didn’t. Don’t go thinkin’ there was anything chivalrous in it.”

I burst out a snort of laughter that I had to cover with my own spare hand, not wanting to rouse Deacon from his slumber and set off another argument about the bed. “How ironic that it was _your_ ass that everyone got to see instead.”

“Yeah, really gotta thank the doc for that.” Hancock grumbled, though he didn’t seem to be truly upset. Despite what had occurred in the past, I could see that he wasn’t in fact so bedecked by trauma that he was unable to cope with someone pulling down his pants in public and sticking a needle into his ass. He must have had a very healthy mind indeed, to be able to differentiate so clearly and concisely without that natural bleed through, which happened so often with those who had experienced a harrowing event. “Probably traumatized everyone there in the shopping district.”

“Ha, are you kidding? First Deacon’s, now yours? The old pervert in me has done pretty well tonight.” I admitted, reaching down to give the side of his hip a pat through the sheets that were tucked in tight around him. “You got one mighty cute little patootie.”

Hancock gave a cluck of his tongue and winked at me. “Well thanks. Must be all those stairs I gotta walk up in the State House; keeps me tight, you know?”

I chuckled a little and then gave him a gentle look. “Are you doing okay?”

“Depends… does it change anything between us?”

I raised my brow, annoyed at him for even feeling the need to ask the question. Since when had he ever been so insecure? “No, of course not. Only that I respect you all the more. And wanna fucking rip the dicks off of two men that I’ve never even met.”

He gave a humourless little laugh at this. “Heh… and so it goes.” He took a moment then, pressing his lower lip between his teeth and then letting it slowly unfurl, caught it seemed in just how honest he wanted to be with me. “I just… I figured that if you… if you knew about this stuff… even the stuff I got a hard time admitting to myself… won’t be much that scares you off in the long run.”

I leant close, not that it was necessary for him to be able to hear me but so that he could see without any doubt the sincerity in my eyes when I responded. “Friends don’t need to censor anything from each other. If you ever feel like you’ve gotta chew over some stuff, just… let me know, okay?” I gave his fingers another squeeze before I drifted them over to rest atop his chest, giving the visible skin there a slow, circular rub to try and get him to relax again. “I’m a pretty soft-touch, I don’t tend to judge much of anything. You should always feel safe to come and talk to me.”

“You are soft. You’re… gentle.” He sighed slowly, the lines around his eyes wrinkling in. “You got no idea…” And his hand rose back up to meet my face, his fingertips pressing to my cheek; close to the corner of my lips. “… what a fucking relief it is to not be afraid to open my mouth around you. I thought I knew what it was to be free… until I met you. That’s when I realized just how much I was holding in; how much I was hiding from folks. How heavy the front I was putting on was. When I’m with you, I don’t know… I can just… _feel_ all that weight sliding off of me. I feel lighter just being in the same room as you. Like I’ve been wearin’ power armour for all these long years and you’re the only one who’s got the key to get me outta the goddamned thing.”

It was cold in the room but it wasn’t the chill that sent my body to trembling; which made my skin flush and my heart beat harder and harder. It was the most lovely thing for him to say; so honest, so… brave, to put himself out there like that. To admit that he felt weak at times and that I, in my own clumsy and unassuming way had somehow given him some peace of mind. There was such warmth lining my chest now and I felt a profound, almost irresistible urge to eliminate the distance between us and press my mouth to his own. To get my tongue in there to rub against his and explore the soft crevices in his cheeks and around his teeth; to hear us both moan at the depth of our kiss. To then slide my arms up over his chest, rub our faces together and let his hands explore my body. I imagined them snaking down over my hips, slipping beneath the band of my pyjama pants and curling around my ass. Pushing my underpants down so that skin could touch skin, his fingernails biting in, lifting me, letting me rub against where he himself would be firm and ready…

I brought myself back from these thoughts with a mental reproach as firm as a slap to the cheeks. How could I be here, thinking of another man, a _friend_ at that, when my husband wasn’t even cold in the ground? (If you didn’t consider the fact that he had been frozen for over two-hundred years, though I had gone back to retrieve his body from Vault 111 and buried him with the support of the others). Not to mention that Hancock had a fucking _head injury._ It wasn’t exactly morally sound to get in on with someone who probably had a raging concussion; even though I’m quite certain he was of sound mind to be making his own decisions. Besides, his body was working hard to try and create new blood cells to replace what had been lost; if they all started gathering in his penis right now, he would probably pass out. Never mind that Deacon was asleep on the bed behind us and I had never been one to want to make out in the presence of a third party. Even an unconscious, unknowing third party.

So rather than act on this rampant and undeniably horny thought, I just worked up another weak smile and curled my shoulder forward, giving him what might have been a fey look, if I had been younger and cute enough to have pulled it off. 

“Those boys must have hit you harder than I realized, Mr Mayor... I’m not sure what to say…”

Hancock’s fingernails brushed over my cheek and then drifted over to press fondly to the tip of my nose. “You don’t gotta say nothin’… what _I_ need to say is, ‘thankyou’. For not judging me, for not… letting me believe that I was weak for what happened. For… letting me tell you that horrible stuff I did, even when you’re going through all this shit yourself. I don’t know how I can thankyou enough for being as kind as you are.” His hand lowered once more and cupped beneath my chin, his thumb running over my scar tenderly and he smiled with such true affection that I almost lost the will to keep sitting up. “You’re a wonderful woman.”

“Stop.” I said, taking his hand off of my chin before I darn near burnt his fingers off with the blush he had now set to my cheeks. I had never met anyone who could put on the charm as well as this man; who lined up his words like dominoes and set them to falling in perfect sequence, revealing a pattern on the floor that he had purposely set out to create. I plopped his hand back onto his chest and pushed his head sternly into the pillow, holding a solitary finger up before his nasal cavity. “You say anymore and my head’ll get too big to fit in this room. Put your silly face down and go to sleep now.”

He gave me a knowing smile. “Fine. Can I trust you not to touch up my ‘cute little patootie’ while I’m out to it?”

“Please. As if I could fit my hand between you and MacCready.” I said, scoffing loudly as I plumped Hancock’s pillow up around his head, before sliding down into my own bedroll. I pulled my doona over myself, tucking my feet around the heat of my hot water bottle before stretching my hand out to rub down Hancock’s arm.

I whispered to him, for once tonight wanting him to know that I was serious. That some things I couldn’t just smile away and avoid. “I was scared for you tonight, you know.”

Hancock’s body tensed and he grit his teeth, groaning softly to himself as he rolled over onto his side so that he could face me. I was hoping he wouldn’t try to remain like this during the night; he really needed to keep that gel pack to the back of his head. “Didn’t mean to put you through that, Munch.” He mumbled, giving me that same careless little smile he was so renowned for. I nodded my head, not wanting him to think that I was blaming him and ran my fingers down from the curve of his shoulder to his elbow and then back up. He looked very soothed and very relaxed now; hopefully this would help him forget that what he really wanted was a jab of Med-X to steer him on towards sleep and not my hands pawing him all over.

“I know. It wasn’t your fault. I just don’t want to lose you… scared me to think that I might not have you in my life anymore.”

“You don’t gotta worry none.” He said, his expression somewhat stern; as though suggesting I ought not have allowed myself to entertain such thoughts as him marching out the exit door. “This ugly mug is gonna follow you everywhere. Well… except maybe to the toilet.”

“What, after tonight? Can’t imagine there are too many secrets we have from each other now.” I laughed, brushing my fingers back over his forehead and down his cheeks; remembering how Nate had once done this to me and how soothing it was when I was feeling crap. It was especially appreciated when I had been pregnant with Shaun and was struggling to go to sleep without a few glasses of wine to tip me over. “Okay, time to go sleep-sleep now.”

I would have continued to stroke his face like this for a while, honestly enjoying the closeness between us but Dogmeat quickly set that to bed by rolling onto his feet and then hopping over Hancock’s hip; settling down firmly between us. I was forced to retract my hand to make room for him and gave a little verbal reproach, just to let him know that he was being rude. Hancock on the other hand just opened his eyes and snickered perceptively to himself.

“Well, look who’s getting jealous.” He said, giving Dogmeat an indulgent rub between the ears. He certainly didn’t seem to be worried or upset by the pooches’ intermission, so I eased back on my own exasperation and gave Dogmeat a rub down his spine. Somehow, _he_ was getting all the attention now.

“He’s definitely his mommy’s boy. Doesn’t like sharing much.”

Dogmeat gave a lazy wag of his tail as though agreeing with this and Hancock responded by giving him a few firm pats to the rump, as though commiserating in some way with the hounds feelings.

“Well, I can understand that.” He said, mirroring my thoughts on the subject. “I don’t like sharing you much either.”

I thought back to him earlier that night, reaching up and dragging me out of Vadim’s hands. Perhaps his intentions weren’t so much about me as they had been about him. Much like Dogmeat wriggling between us, had Hancock been trying to redirect my attentions back to him when they had been focused on someone else? Jesus, it shouldn’t have surprised me any if that was the case. Four legs or two legs, young or old, boys always wanted your eyes on them when they were jumping in the pool or doing a cartwheel or something they found equally as clever. For men, ‘look at me, look at me’ didn’t end until they day that they died.

“And you’re usually so generous too.” I said with a laugh, pressing my cheek down into my pillow and staring up over the ridge of Dogmeat’s muzzle into Hancock’s eyes. His gaze drifted back over to meet my own, giving Dogmeat one last parting pat to the bottom before bringing his hand across to ruffle my own hair; with just about the same roughness.

“There are some things in this world that you just don’t wanna share, Munch.” He murmured, wishing me goodnight with a telling smile before sliding onto his back, eyes closing and one hand twisted up behind his head. I watched him settle down, wishing that Dogmeat hadn’t nestled in between us, because all I wanted to do was reach my arms across, curl them around Hancock’s chest and fall asleep with my face buried against his neck; taking in the scent of him.

I felt weak with my longing for him; even at this tiny, indiscriminate distance. Wanting to open up my heart and mind and scream to him all the things that I was feeling, the desire that he kindled in me, the unembittered longings that made my chest ache. God, if _only_ I had been single and free and if I could only have such thoughts without feeling hateful of myself.

I wanted to hold him to me and whisper the unfiltered uncensored truth; those words that bounced about my alcohol encumbered mind as sleep started to slowly steal me away:

_My darling, I can only remain at this distance for now but you must know what it is that I feel for you. That I will never be exhausted by your hurt; by what you feel you need to do to survive another day in this world. To thrive in this bizarre state that you call freedom. I will not judge you, nor condemn you but look to you with unconditional positive regard, for the way in which your gentle hand passes over others and gives them a soft reprieve. A safe port into which they can steer themselves and be assured that they will be met without condemnation but instead with unerring respect._

_And I will try with all I have to remain that very thing for you that we both need. Until I am able to give you more and rest with you, stilled and satisfied from the eventual collision of our passions. When I am woman enough to put this smiling façade aside for good and lay finally to rest the man that I loved. Who I married but who never touched me the way that you do; without having taken aside my clothes, caressed my naked skin or plunged inside of my body. How you have touched deeper places in me than he was ever able to, having been master of my flesh and soul. You traverse further somehow, Hancock. Into the farthest, most secretive reaches of my true self. You free me, excite me. You have kissed and loved and fucked the deepest places within me, without ever having come unto me. You are inside me with each passing exchange and I roil with you through those imperceptible waves; wanting you through my core and denying you with the common, moral restrictions of my mind._

_How I wish that I might love you but knowing that it is not possible; not with the way that I am right now. And how unfair it is of me, to even think that you might share the depths of my feelings and yet also denying you the opportunity to even prove that you might. To expect that you might wait, to provoke your patience continually and deter you at every path you take to travel deeper into my heart._

It was with such deep thoughts that I was finally able to succumb to sleep. And yet with sleep, there was no reprieve to be found, with my thoughts desperately seeking an outlet for my waking frustrations; transforming my dreams into a stage in which these aching desires were played out for the satisfaction of quelling my inner most yearnings. And I drifted to it; possessing none of the moral restrictions and shame that my waking self might have thrown up as barrier to the wanton passions of my so far untapped reservoir.

**~**

In the dream, Hancock and I were in a cabin somewhere; exactly where, I don’t know. There was a storm circling us from outside but we weren’t afraid because for whatever reason, the cabin itself was impenetrable. All the storm was able to do was to keep us contained; locked here, close, together and inescapable from one another’s presence.

The others weren’t with us. There was no explanation for this in the dream; perhaps because my unconscious did not require any validation or interpretation of how their presence fit into what was slowly building between Hancock and I. It was our interactions, the feelings that existed between us that needed exorcising.

“How long are we going to be trapped here?” I had asked, wrapping my arms about myself like some stereotypical, over concerned waif in a television show.

If I had asked this question in real life, Hancock most likely would have rolled a joint for himself, poured us a couple of drinks and told me not to worry, whilst we sat and buzzed on in our half-inebriated state about the matters of life at large. But reality was not what my mind desired; rather, an embellishment of the unspoken and so far uninitiated possibilities.

Instead, he came up behind me and in my dream, I saw us as I might have observed two different people in that moment. Looking from the outside, so as to fully appreciate how his hands curved around my waist, how his lips came close to my ear and his voice hotly breathed; “Until you’re ready to let me in.”

Even in the dream, I could feel the tingling excitement. The race of hormones; pure, unadulterated desire, desperate for an outlet and finding it in my predominately unexplored feelings for this person who always got my blood pumping in one way or another. He kissed my neck, sucked and bit and licked as his hands worked over my body. My jacket was off and his palms and fingers were mauling my breasts through my top with fevered intent. In the dream, I wasn’t wearing a bra, though I always did under my clothing, especially when I was running around in the Wasteland fighting shit. I guess dream me might have been a bit of a hussy.

I was drawn back behind my own eyes in this moment, as Hancock had turned me and bundled my shirt up around my neck. His mouth and teeth were now set against those unguarded breasts, his fingernails dragging down my back and into the curve of my lower spine. He lowered himself to kiss my stomach; a residual memory I think of what Nate had done when I had been pregnant with Shaun.

Never before however, had Nate followed up by ripping my belt out and tugging my jeans and panties down my legs. I hadn’t been wearing boots in the dream, because I suppose that they would have gotten in the way of the fantasy that my mind was trying to explore. Instead, Hancock had thrown my undergarments off to the side before reaching up to trace his fingertips down my inside thighs; a tickling sensation that I truly thought that I could feel. I was moaning in the dream and calling his name. Begging him for whatever pleasure he had it in mind to give me. Hancock was merely the instrumental puppet of my own cravings however and my most desired pleasure was what he dutifully delivered; by dropping to his knees and bringing his mouth up, under and against me as his hands pushed my back up tight against the cabin wall.

Dream me was moaning like an unconcerned Slatten whore, squirming against Hancock’s face as he tongued over my sweet spot and up inside of me. It seemed like a pretty selfish dream, with me being the sole recipient of these lovely acts but I suppose if Hancock had an unconscious mind half as repressed as mine, he could have his own favours returned in some form or another.

As Hancock’s tongue worked me over from the inside, his hands reached up behind to squeeze my ass; fingernails biting into my skin. I wasn’t surprised that my unconscious mind had picked this position for my receiving dream cunnilingus; it had always been pretty hot from this angle, the few times I had received it whilst standing up.

Hancock eventually ceased his attentions and had shifted so that he was sitting on his backside, with his knees crooked up in front of him. In the dream, I was aware that he had undone his pants and was holding his erect penis; though I couldn’t discern how it looked when I tried to recall the memory; only that it was big. He reached out with his other hand, taking one of mine and drawing me to him. He encouraged me to crouch, spreading my legs out over either side of him as I lowered myself slowly.

“Just take it _all in_ …” He breathed into my ear; words coinciding with the feeling of his cock sliding up inside of me as I sank myself down sharply onto his lap; impaling myself. It made sense in my nocturnal fantasies that he would be large and I was aware of it as we started writhing together, talking some very dirty crap from the little I was able to recall.

Hancock hadn’t undressed in the dream, which I think may have had to do with my not entirely knowing how to project the image of his body into my fantasies. The sex act itself was so vastly different from how Nate and I had made love; so much so that I could not confuse this with somehow relating back to what I had lost.

It was how I thought Hancock might have been, in those few instances that I had mused on my friends’ sex life. Based on his personality, I could imagine him as going in seductively, turning the tables quickly and deftly and then getting his end away without pause for much in between.

I held onto his broad shoulders in the dream; squeezing them and tracing the shape of them. He had bitten and licked my nipples through my shirt and clenched my ass so as to aid in moving me forward and back on his thick erection. We had curled together like a cohesive ball of lust; hands touching, pelvis’s crushing, tongues dancing and licking against available skin but never seeming to meet at the lips.

I became aware in the dream that I was going to have an orgasm and as it ripped through me, I thought that I must have actually come in my sleep. It was my first thought upon waking, as I felt my groin still tight with arousal and my clit tingling.

I remember laying there in the darkness, completely overwhelmed with what my mind and body had cooked up for me. I noticed something glinting in the dim light coming in from the hallway and realized with a shock that it was Hancock’s eyes staring at me over Dogmeat’s head.

“What is it?” He whispered, sounding confused.

I dithered, tongue caught in my throat; equally as perplexed and dazed somewhat from sleep. _Oh my God,_ I thought, running my hand over the front of my body, feeling my night shirt for any evidence of his kisses. _Did we… did we actually do it?_

The dream itself had been so vivid that I truly honestly felt as though I had been recalling a memory, rather than concocting some fictional happenstance. There was even a dull ache between my legs, as though he had in fact just been inside of me; though I gathered realistically that it must have been the ache from arousal. There was no way that we had had sex and there was certainly no way in hell that he had been fucking me whilst I’d been asleep. If he had managed that, well, either I was an exceptionally deep sleeper, or he had an extremely shallow thrust which barely ruffled the bedsheets. This, I thoroughly doubted.

I checked still to make certain that my pyjama bottoms were on and when I was certain that everything was to rights, I met Hancock’s eyes again; hoping he couldn’t see my blush in the dark. “What? What do you mean ‘what is it?’”

“You called my name. Everything okay?”

Oh my fucking God, I had actually gone and called out his name in my sleep. _Whilst having a_ sex _dream about him!_ My face burning, I glanced around the room to see if I had disturbed any of the others but from the amount of snoring that was going on, I gathered Hancock was the only one who had heard. Without his usual nightcap of Chems to knock him out, he must have been sleeping light. Or else had already been awake for whatever reason.

“Having a… bad dream.” I lied, running my hand back through my dishevelled head of hair and then pawing about for the tin of purified water by the bedside. I took a swig, swilling it around my parched mouth before reaffixing the cap and setting it down. “Didn’t mean to disturb you. Go back to sleep.”

I’m not sure how satisfied he was with this response but he settled back down into his pillow after taking a gulp from the water canister himself. I rolled over and faced the other direction, my eyes bulging with near hysterical embarrassment. Sleep was a long time coming.

It was from that point on, that everything changed. It might be a mistake to read too much into dreams but to me all it had done simply was unlock a door in my mind which I had worked to keep jammed shut and out of sight for as long as possible.

I had seen Hancock in a whole new light; in so many glaring contrasts throughout the course of one evening alone. He was kind, mischievous, compassionate and strong; these were things I had already known. But now… now I was aware of so much more than just his personality and the emotional propensity of our relationship. Now, well. Now I was aware of his _body_.

In the months that followed, I could feel myself growing more attracted to his raw physicality; of the him that existed beneath the lines of his clothing. I felt the distance between us close ever tighter, as a new element came to pass in our relationship. He took on a whole new shape in my mind and it was a shape that spurred my excitement whenever we were together; making me so completely aware of his hands, his mouth, his chest and… well, everything else too. My heart stopped pumping just for those specific moments when something seemed to pass between us. Now, my body was constantly poised; ready to _make_ something happen and I wavered on the edge with such knowledge; dreading and hoping in the same breath that he might eventually make his move, take me into his arms and bring to life all those stilled and unspoken passions that sparked between us.

 

**~**

**_Current Day – A hop, skip and a jump from Goodneighbor…_ **

Piper of course didn’t know the half of it; not about what Hancock had told me in the holding cell and certainly not about the dream I’d had. What I hoped she did remember was how he had treated Conner that night; the soft side to him that I had seen and that genuine desire he expressed to make changes to how Goodneighbor was being run.

“Well, as they say… the proof of the pudding will be in the eating of it.” Piper stated, stubbing out the withering end of her cigarette and flicking the expired butt away. “I just hope you’re not disappointed if we walk back into that gate and see that nothing has changed, let alone for the better.”

I smiled at her and shook my head, taking one last parting drag on my own cigarette. “See, that’s just the thing, Piper. I don’t need to see evidence of his intentions to know that they are good. And it’s not as though he needs to go and prove anything to me. It’s everyone else who benefits at the end of the day.”

“That’s for sure. It sounds like you might have really got through to him though.” She murmured, quirking her brow up thoughtfully as she then took a moment to straighten out her shirt. “But I gotta say, Blue… if you really are having all these feelings right now, it’s probably time you… did something about them, yeah? Before the two of you… I don’t know, spontaneously combust or something.”

“Now you sound like Cait.” I chortled, dropping my cigarette to the ground and stamping it out before grabbing up my duffle bag and swinging it back over my shoulders. Even something as simple as this brought to mind how Hancock would routinely straighten it out and tighten the straps for me and another dull ache of longing peaked in my chest. “You’re right though… I’ll end up an even bigger raving nutcase than I already am if I just keep stringing shit along. And it’s not like it’s fair on Hancock either. That is… if I’m to assume that he actually _does_ have feelings for me. I might be getting just a bit carried away with my own self-importance.”

Piper shot me an impatient look, almost on par with what Cait offered up most days and snapped; “Oh, wake up and smell the Mirelurk omelette, Blue. Of _course_ he’s into you.”

“So he’s… spoken to you about his feelings then?”

She scoffed. “Please. When do you imagine Hancock and I would ever sit down and shoot the breeze? He doesn’t need to _say_ anything, it’s just obvious. Gets this big stupid gooey look on his face when you walk in the room; like he’s going to melt all over the floor. He tries to cover it up but we’re not fucking blind.”

I took this in my stride, not taking it for gospel in spite of how apparently ‘obvious’ it was and said, “Well, whatever the case, it still doesn’t change a lot of shit, Piper. Every time I even _think_ about being with someone else, I feel as though I’m cheating on Nate.” I held up my left hand, showing that I was still wearing my wedding ring and offered up a sad, helpless sort of smile. “I still love him. I don’t know if that’s ever going to stop. Or if I’m ever going to not feel guilty about developing feelings for someone else. I’m scared of what might happen if I… try to take that next step.”

Piper looked intensely troubled by this and turned back to face me completely, her brow wrinkling to form a perfect ‘U’ right in the centre. “I can only imagine how difficult it would be, Blue but… what are you afraid might ‘happen’?”

I tapped a finger to the side of my head. “Mentally… I’m not sure I could handle it. Everything I’ve kept tight hold on might come rushing out all at once. And my heart… morally I think I would hate myself. And I’m pretty good at beating myself down when I think I’ve earned it.”

“But that’s ridiculous.” Piper insisted, reaching over to take both my hands. She squeezed them tightly, trying to get me to raise my head I think; which I had lowered so that she couldn’t see me tear up again. “Blue… your husband has been gone now for… over a year? For you, I mean… he may have even been gone for much, much longer than you realize… I know it must still feel soon to you. Maybe it’ll _always_ feel too soon. But… you’re only twenty-nine years old. You’re still young. I’m sure that Nate wouldn’t want the woman that he loved to spend the rest of her life alone.” She glanced off to the side, curling her lip and shrugging. “Not sure his first choice would have been _Hancock_ mind you, but so long as he knew that you were happy…”

I chuckled and raised my head to meet her eyes, offering up a smile. “Thanks, darl. I know where you’re coming from and I get it. I really do. It’s just… something I need to address. And stop being such a goddamn coward over.” I returned the squeeze to her fingers before letting them drift from between my grip. “In any event; I gotta lot of thinking to do between here and Goodneighbor. Best not keep the rest of the gang waiting.”

Piper gave me a supportive smile before turning to make her way down the alley and back towards the others. I followed in her wake and true to my earlier statement, my thoughts were already branching out in a million different directions; clamouring in a near hysterical panic as they attempted to form themselves into some semblance of order.

Piper was right. It couldn’t go on indefinitely, this irresolute dithering I was doing. Whatever Hancock and I were feeling for each other wasn’t going away and I had been a coward to have let it drag on as long as it had. I had put the unknowing responsibility on him to be courageous and make the first move, because I lacked the conviction of my own desires and hadn’t wanted to accept responsibility for them. I suppose that I subconsciously had thought that if I did nothing and left it to Hancock to initiate things, I wouldn’t have to feel so guilty. It wouldn’t have been wholly my decision to invest in a new relationship but a natural transgression that was irrevocable. Like evolution.

But enough was enough. This was a gutless approach and one way or another, I could tell that _something_ was going to happen when I finally reached Goodneighbor. My path to Shaun was barred to me until the teleporter could be completed, so I had no excuses for avoiding dealing with this any longer. The time had come to metaphorically sack up, suck it up and make a choice.

More important than all of it, resonating louder than even the insistent pounding of my heart was the knowledge that he was so close now. A few minutes and I would be back within the gates of Goodneighbor and he would be there. Maybe waiting, maybe off doing his own thing, maybe lying stoned on a bench somewhere but there. His complete whole, wonderful self who I had missed so much. Who I couldn’t wait to hold and breathe in and sit and talk to for hours over a bottle of grog and generous fistfuls of smokes. To see him smile, to hear that deep gravelly voice scrape across his words, to feel the little cluck of his fingers to the scar on my chin.

The thought of this eradicated whatever trepidations I might have been feeling and I hurried my feet back along the way we came, knowing only for certain that I wanted to see him. That I missed him desperately.

That I needed him with me to even feel like half the person I was supposed to be.

And what difference this is from love, well… I couldn’t begin to tell you. But if I were to concede that there is none, then it stood to reason that I had in fact loved Hancock for much longer than I had known.

**~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Good golly. Well, it’s finally over everyone. Next chapter will be from Hancock’s point of view and then… the reunion! And maybe at some point down the track, I will write an actual sex scene that isn’t just a fantasy or a dream. (She says having already written the scene and is simply waiting to catch up to it with the actual story. Write faster you constipated fanfiction douche!)
> 
> A couple of points to address; one that actually bugged me a little bit but I still worked around because I simply wanted to put Eve and Hancock into a jail cell. Yeah... I clearly have problems.
> 
> 1.) Why the guard and the teens didn’t recognize Hancock: Hancock has quite a distinct look for sure, so you would think that he would be recognizable even to citizens of Diamond City. The teens are young and are very secular, having only ever lived in Diamond City and never travelling outside of it. They most likely wouldn’t even pay attention to a description of Hancock, even if they heard it. Probably a bit self-absorbed. The guard didn’t recognize him right away, because Eve was wearing his jacket and Hancock’s hat had been knocked off of his head. Being a little blind with prejudice as well, he wouldn’t have concerned himself with trying to identify him as being anyone important. To him, he was simply a Ghoul.
> 
> 2.) Hancock's rape: I did go back and forth for quite a while on this one, trying to decide whether it was suited to the character and whether Hancock was the type of individual who might have gone through something like this. Then it struck me, quite obviously that there ISN'T just any type of individual who experiences rape. The crime is about the person enacting it, not the victim themselves. And anyone can be made a victim. In my professional capacity, I have worked with a number of people who have been either raped or severely sexually assaulted; both males and females and the only thing in common between all of them, is that they were all victims, cut and dry. Some of the men were extremely tough and masculine; the kind you couldn't imagine ever being overcome by someone else physically. Not that this makes any difference in the very least, it only serves as a point. The town of Goodneighbor would have been uncompromising and I'm not trying to write a story that spares characters from things that people even in our own time are not safe from. The same with Hancock working in the sex trade. I really battled with the idea of him actually admitting to servicing both men and women, but then I figured: Hey, when people are desperate, they're desperate. You do a lot when you think you might starve to death. And even more if you suffer an addiction. Having sex with men does not automatically make someone gay, it simply means that they have had sex with a man. And I am not suggesting that there is anything wrong with being gay; far from it. In this story however, I simply imagine that Hancock didn't want Eve to view him as someone without preferences or sexual boundaries. He wanted there to be no doubt in her mind that he is straight, because he is interested in her. And just to clear that up even further, yes he is heterosexual in this story; he was not being evasive with the truth when he told Eve he wasn't interested in men. That's simply how I myself view the character and how my play through went. Of course, everyone else's interpretation might be different and that's awesome as well!
> 
> 3.) The Branding: Just went hand in hand with the Wrangler thing, guys. Honestly, was not trying to do a ripoff of Black Butler and little Ciel's brand mark. Reading it through I just thought to myself 'Shit, people might think I was trying to steal that particular concept.' Honestly; complete accident. Just a theme that would work for a bunch of pricks who act like cowboys.
> 
> So, some pretty full on topics guys. Keep in mind that if anything mentioned in this story is triggering, please feel free to email to discuss it with me and most importantly of all, to take care of yourselves. In this day and age, that is SO important. You're all beautiful, so do yourselves a favour right now and do something nice for yourself. Like give yourself a hug, say out loud five things that you like about yourself, or fix yourself whatever treat you most like and stuff your face with it. So long as it's edible and or consenting, you know what I'm saying? I'm gonna enjoy myself a nice glass of wine and a lollypop. That's not a euphemism, I am literally going to have a lollypop. But I might have it right where my husband can see. Just in case I haven't tormented him enough today, ha ha!
> 
> Take care until next time my lovelies and please feel free to email, comment, kudos whatever. Also, don't hesitate to point out anywhere I might have made mistakes or where the story could use some tightening up.
> 
> All my love,  
> ~MadamMortis~


	6. A Point of Convergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would I do if she had died? What would any of us have done? We had followed this woman around the Commonwealth for months on end, supporting her as best we could in her search for her son and somehow changing our own lives along the way. I wasn’t the only one who had been made anew from my time with Eve; the others clearly valued and cared for her in their own way too. If she died now, the current that had carried us all forward, this amazing journey we had all taken together would come to a halt, turn to foam upon the lip of the shore. And a scream would rise up in my soul that I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to silence...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Fallout 4 is the copyright property of Bethesda and... all the other companies and affiliated persons responsible for making it. I don't know who precisely but it sure as heck isn't me, so please don't sue me for using these characters for lurid purposes. All just entertainment value, folks!
> 
> A/N: Hello my Fallout loving darlings! I hope I am finding all of you beautiful people well and happy!
> 
> First of all, an apology for my tardiness with this chapter. I do genuinely try to aim for at least one chapter per month, but I had such a surge of bad luck around this (cursed) chapter in particular that it just did not end up getting done in the timeframe I had set for myself. It ended up being (surprise, surprise!) longer than I had anticipated and I lost about half of it due to a saving glitch. Much anger and yelling ensued. I’m still not certain I was able to rewrite the section I had lost to the standard it was before the computer munched it up, but I did the very best in my second time around. In the midst of all this, whilst playing Fallout 4, Hancock was lost at sea whilst I was investigating old wrecks. He came back after I fast travelled a few times but it was a trying time all the same. Especially when my husband decided to start insensitively playing the Jonathon Young punk rock version of ‘Under the Sea’ whilst putting the groceries away. (Although I do indeed recommend Jonathon Young; great singer).
> 
> And as usual (Jesus, I’m starting to sound like Preston) I have ended up writing too much and have needed to split this chapter into two again. This one is probably the longest single chapter I have written but there is still more to go, which I have started work on already. After that it will be the reunion. I do apologize guys, this story just tends to take a life of its own.
> 
> Another note as well, is that I have made the decision to change Hancock’s age, so I will be going back to the earlier chapters to make this switch. Instead of being thirty-eight in the present time, I have altered his age so that he is now forty-six. The reason I have made this decision, is because I was thinking about how McDonough is referred to as being ‘middle aged’ or ‘old’ even and how Hancock even states when you first meet him that he was ‘young then’, when referring to the wild tears that he used to go on. To me, a guy in his thirties wouldn’t necessarily refer to himself in such a way; it sounds like something an older man might say. It was just one of those things I was wrestling with for a while but I think reality wins out with most of the information in the game pointing to him being older than his thirties in the time Fallout 4 is set. I hope this doesn’t upset too many people. Keep in mind that Hancock would be just as sexy if he was seventy. Age doesn’t necessarily work the same way for Ghoul’s as it does for Smoothskin’s either, so there is that too.
> 
> Warnings for the chapter are the usual standard: Blood, violence, graphic depictions, sexual content and nigh self-interference. Also another shower scene, which I’m starting to think that I’m secretly addicted to writing, even though I don’t actively focus on such things. Least it’s not tooth brushing, I guess.
> 
> Anyway, enough blathering on, you’ve all waited long enough for the next instalment. Please, get on in there and I’ll see you on the far side of the chapter! xxx ooo

> _“It isn't possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you.”_ **_~_** ** _E.M. Forster - A Room with a View ~_**

** John Hancock **

When I was a boy, my father read me the story of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. It failed to make an impression at the time. Young boys have so much on their minds, none of which takes exception to consider life’s deeper meaning and the myriad ways in which one thing might intrinsically link to another.

It was just another story. Just another trope; an expectation, a patented stereotype of homily cliché’s and condescending platitudes. Handsome prince gets the beautiful girl and the hunchback was rewarded with acceptance from the masses of France. Those who once shunned and feared him, now welcomed him with open arms.

Because what more could he ever expect but acceptance? Certainly not love. Ugly, malformed beasts could never find love. Not unless they shortly thereafter transformed into a handsome prince, thereby rewarding the lady for her steadfast devotion, even in the wake of his undeniable, repulsive face and body.

Beast into man.

Frog into prince.

Ugliness into beauty.

A hunchbacked freak accepted by the masses but acquiescing that the woman he loved would be better off with a whole, handsome, dashing hero. Because to love the hunchback would be impossible somehow. Would be to lower and debase herself.

Perhaps she might even love the beast, locked away in his castle; frothing and belligerent at the world. Hateful of himself and begrudging of all those around him. But to be certain he would not remain a beast. Because even the reading audience agreed that the beautiful heroine did not deserve to live with this repulsive reality; not for the seeming ‘sacrifice’ she had made in bestowing her love to this wretched mass. And he would be transformed; so as to be truly deserving of her. So that they might, at long last, be truly capable of being together.

I hadn’t thought that stories such as these made much of an impression. Until I found myself in the same position.

I had never been the shy retiring type; never infuriated and ranting with the world over my condition. Never hiding, bemoaning, bitching and whining for my supposed ‘fate’. I had taken control and decided for myself that I would live with this face; that which was far less ugly than what my once handsome features represented. I hadn’t regretted my choice; not for a moment. And I would never regret it.

And yet, here I was; a bell ringer all the same. Waiting and wondering all the while if the woman that I had come to care for, with every thrumming fibre of my heart could deign to love the wrought and ugly man that I had become. Or if her glib smile and seeming acceptance simply masked another cliché; a foil to the audience, to fool all those into accepting her presentation as a non-judgmental and accommodating princess, who nonetheless would accept none other than the most dashing of pristine princes into her bedchamber.

Once upon a time; I had been such a prince. So to speak. There hadn’t been many men who were better looking than me. But I hated that face in the mirror and came to despise everything it stood for. It was a face that Eve had never known and I could only hope, one she never pinned her hopes on returning.

This frog would never step from his lily pad, a whole and handsome prospect. Nor shed his fur and gnarled horns to reveal beneath the beatific form the beast withheld through arrogance and curse. There was only a hunched backed bell ringer and nothing more.

Painfully aware; terrified of reality. Of the potential of rejection and worse besides. Wondering if he would be disappointed. If he would find that she was more shallow than he had been led to believe. If for all her sweetness, for all the feelings that pulsed between them, she could still be so insecure as to want nothing more than a physically beautiful man. Someone who couldn’t possibly have been as close to her as I. Who knew her so well, who resonated so completely with her, whose boots fell to the same prints in the ground.

It was fear but far greater than that of rejection. I trembled with the ought and ever approaching revelation that would once and for all answer the questions I had for so long toiled over in my tangled and fuzzy mind:

Could Eve love me?

And more importantly; did she want to?

 

**~**

**_Goodneighbor – Current day…_ **

After I had helped Kent to lug his radio equipment over to the stage area, I took myself off in search of Adrian. This ordinarily wouldn’t have taken much time in the Goodneighbor of old; there had only been two real main areas to check – the entryway channel and the main drag. But in the last year or so, the construction plans that we had dithered casually over for the past decade had finally gotten off of the ground. Goodneighbor had exploded – quite literally, in fact. The boys had a hoot and a half setting off dynamite on the East wall and then knocking down what remained with super sledges.

It never ceased to amaze me how our laid back little community could pull their shit together when they really wanted something. And reclaiming the land beyond the East wall would essentially net us a number of additional buildings that could be used for extended housing; not to mention room enough to construct individualized dwellings so that folks were able to set themselves up comfortably. Our five year plan essentially was to increase our capacity to match or exceed that of Diamond City; in order to present ourselves as a viable alternative to people in the Commonwealth who weren’t permitted to live in that pretentious little shithole or were too vulnerable to survive out in the Wastes.

It was an ambitious project; especially when you consider that I had been half off of my gourd on Jet when I’d scribbled the plans out on a napkin some years ago. Everyone had agreed at the time, namely as they themselves were all as plastered as I was, but in the light of day we had realized that we were going to need a lot more caps, a shit ton of firepower and a few more hardy souls prepared to do the work required. Which meant finding enough folks with the technological know-how that it would take to rig up the generators to supply power to the newly established buildings and a fair slab of tradesman prepared to construct plumbing and amenities to the accommodation and theorized businesses.

This in turn required a whole lot of outsourcing; as there weren’t too many people in the Commonwealth who felt safe or robust enough to come and work in Goodneighbor, even with an offer to put them up in the Statehouse whilst they undertook their duties. Rufus was always readily available but he was only one guy and whilst we were all prepared to pitch in to try and smarten the place up a bit, we were really neophytes in the area of construction work. And off of our fucking heads most of the time, to be honest.

It had finally taken sending a couple of envoys out into the Capital Wasteland, to see whether folks out there might jump at the opportunity of paid work and accommodation. This proved successful, with a number of Ghouls making the journey over from Underworld and a few tradesman from Megaton and the Rivett City settlement also pitching in. Buoyed by this success, I dispatched a couple more tentative probes into Grand Lanta in the Jersey region and Griffintown in Montreal Canada, which resulted in a contingency of no less than twenty or so struggling tradesman turning up, all eager to trade work for food and board. Goodneighbor was more crowded than it had ever been but everyone enjoyed a little fresh blood to keep things interesting. And of course there were a few more women about for the boys to try their moves on, which made for a much happier security force.

It had been interesting to meet some of the Ghouls from the DC area, but also a little confronting. I’m not sure if the bombs which fell had been designed using different chemicals or what but the poor sods from Underworld looked to have been affected far worse than we had.

Whilst us Ghouls from the Commonwealth area possessed severe scarification and withered features, we didn’t display any fresh wounds after the first year of necrosis. The DC Ghouls on the other hand, looked as though they were in a state of ongoing rot. Most of them were missing their ears and some were even missing their lips. Us Commonwealth Rad Freaks were well versed with the deterioration of our nose cartilage but we still all had our ears and our lips were just sort of pinched in by the tightening of the scars around our mouths. I wondered whether the poor DC bastards were ever able to get themselves laid looking the way they did; it was hard enough for those of us in Goodneighbor and we weren’t actively decomposing.

They all seemed a good bunch to me though; wary and defensive some of the time but decent folks nonetheless. I imagined that over in the DC area, the discrimination that Ghouls endured was far more prevalent than it was here. One of the fellas explained to me that they didn’t really have a good, confident Ghoul representative who wasn’t afraid to stand up to the Smoothskin population. Which had been one of the main draw cards for a bunch of them coming to Goodneighbor in the first place apparently; to see our humble little Community (and yours truly) in action. Kind of flattering to find out that we were the town to beat when it came to Pro-Ghoul support. Made me wish that that whingy pain in the ass ‘woe is me’ Vault Tech tugger Xavier had stuck it out long enough to meet some of these guys. Might have humbled him a little to see just how tough the others of our kind had been doing it.

And they were hard workers to boot. In the last year, the tradesman had, with the support of the townsfolk, successfully brought down the far Eastern wall. It had been busy work then, to reclaim as much land as possible whilst deterring Super Mutant and Raider attacks, which came thick and fast once the explosions were heard and the dust from the wall was sent sailing into the air. It had come at just the right time as well, with myself and the rest of Eve’s little entourage arriving in town to stock up on supplies. We were able to support the Watchmen and Fahrenheit with holding back the wave of attacks long enough for the walls to be hastily erected around the reclaimed land. No help from Marowski or his gang of thugs but I would much rather not owe him a drop of sweat expended if I could help it. Wouldn’t trust the guy as far as I could pick his chunky ass up and pitch him.

Bringing the wall down was a fucking amazing effort and I had never felt more proud of Goodneighbor than I had right at that moment. Lazing around for ten years on the premise of ‘living freely’ was all well and good but it wasn’t putting a roof over anyone’s head and giving them any true feelings of being settled and comfortable. We couldn’t just go on forever being a town of transients; that wasn’t fair on the folks who were destitute and had nowhere else to go. They depended on us to provide some support and stability. And by the time those walls had been erected, we had reclaimed a good L shaped portion of land that was about three quarters the size of Diamond City – among which were good medium sized buildings, open space for further development and a number of dilapidated shop fronts. All useable, repairable and solid in foundation. In the space of twenty-four hours, we had had a substantial growth spurt, which demonstrated how seriously we were prepared to take care of the folks that needed us. Just as I had told Eve that I would.

I still found it very jarring to look over towards the East and see the path extending off into the distance. Increasing the size of Goodneighbor was naturally dicey, as we had to be careful not to go too far and risk putting any citizens or their dwellings in the shadow of surrounding buildings. Snipers could take shots from elevated vantage points and this would be counterproductive to say the least. As such, we had only extended out approximately one-hundred and fifty yards to the East and then fifty yards to the South. Which had still taken a fair bit of fencing at lightning quick speed, though most of the walls had been pre-constructed and needed only to be moved into place, strung together and reinforced. Work on this would be ongoing to secure them thoroughly, with some of the buildings themselves contributing to the line of the wall.

I made my way down towards the newly established East Quadrant, trying to ignore the twinges of pain biting at me from my left shin. The town itself, already crowded from the visiting tradesman was an even greater hub of activity than usual on account of the Christmas Fair.

I know, right? A Christmas _fair._ Seems like a hell of a goochy thing for a town like Goodneighbor to be setting up but there’s a very good reason for it. It was on Christmas Eve that the Nine of us had overthrown Vic from power and I had been established as mayor. Every year, as a tribute to that occasion, we would have the town take the whole night off (with the exception of a few of the Watchmen, who orient their shifts throughout the evening) and deck the street with various caravan wares, made available so that all the citizens can have a good feed and a good time. It was a complete and utter spit in the eye at Vic and his previous regime; whereby he and his goons would exclusively celebrate the holiday season by doubling up on the amount of thrashings, forced taxation and self-appointed ‘charitable-donations’. Christmas had, in fact, been the time of year that we dreaded the most because we lost nearly all of our shit to the drunken fuck faces, who would often then try to use us as some form of entertainment. Either by beating on us or sticking it to us, one or the other.

I’d really wanted to change that mindset around and make this time of year a happy one for our little community. It had worked an absolute treat and every year had only gotten bigger and bigger. In the past three years, communications with the Capital Wasteland, Grand Lanta and Montreal had resulted in more caravans humping it across the grand expanse of the Eastern coast to set up shop and sell wares. Which was especially useful, given that we were now expanding and would be in need of other services; anything namely that would be in short supply elsewhere in the Commonwealth. It’s weird, because I’m not a competitive Ghoul by nature but damn if it wasn’t fun finding ways to thumb the old nasal cavity at Diamond City here and there. Not to mention that it was always one hell of a party.

The town was currently receiving the last of its Christmas bejewelling as well. Rufus was replacing the hanging lights above the street with bulbs that flashed red and green (hell of a feat to find enough of these bad boys, but over the years we had managed. Had to steal a couple from Diamond City’s front gate, but hey, small price to pay for all the shit they had to answer for) and three of the Neighborhood Watch boys were currently flinging random odds and sods onto the large, scraggly looking pine tree that had been pulled in from one of the outlying wooded areas. They weren’t exactly being delicate in how they chose to decorate it either; I saw a couple of pairs of bras hanging from a few of the branches, some condoms still in their wrappers, Jet canisters and empty beer bottles. It looked like the poor tree had been dragged through an abandoned camp site with all that crap hanging off of it. There was a sparse scattering of sad looking tinsel weaved in through the almost bare branches and a metallic star that Rufus had fashioned out of some scrap metal and had painted gold. Yeah, it wasn’t high class but it did the trick.

The tree’s main purpose however, was to both shield the Christmas Parcels that were tucked haphazardly underneath and to display the alarming number of ‘telegraphs’; pieces of paper on which the townsfolk wrote their wishes for the coming new year and tied about one of the branches with a piece of string. The reading of these during the party was often some of the most hilarious shit I had ever seen and sometimes the most touching. There were some very earnest statements from some of the folks that could just about bring tears to your eyes. And then there of course was the stupid, rude, nonsensical stuff, which made everyone just about bust for laughing.

The parcels underneath were put together by myself and the guys in the State House and came from supplies I accumulated during the year in my storeroom. Depending on what kind of haul we had had from various scavenging trips or what I might have been able to purchase from the caravans, I selected items I thought would be of most use to the families and individuals during the year and we bundled them all up; usually in newspaper, because that was most readily available. We always tried to throw in a blanket or two, because these became pretty threadbare throughout the year; as well as food, purified water, toys if there were any kids in the mix (not often enough, sadly) and grown up toys for the big kids, like a bottle of grog or some Chems. Handing out the parcels and reading the telegraphs was always my favourite part of the night. …Well, a close second to getting high and having sex that is, though I seriously doubted I was going to be balling anyone anytime soon, way my luck was going.

Everything seemed to be completely out of whack this year. Even the weather was confused. Instead of the standard cold snap that we normally experienced, being this close to the coast especially, the weather had taken a dramatic one-eighty and had spiked well up into the nineties. The sun was beating down and there wasn’t so much a cloud in the sky, let alone a chill in the air. It felt like it was summer time, specifically a very humid summer where even the air itself felt hot and sticky. Which was always unappreciated in a town full of Ghouls and especially in a town that was now a little overcrowded. Thank fuck Rufus and some of the tradesman had put together bathroom and showering facilities in a covered structure behind the back of the Hotel Rexford. (It had the nicely added bonus of keeping Marowski’s fucking goons from using the place to get up to whatever nonsense they got up to. Making life more difficult for Marowski always cheered me up).  It wasn’t an issue for those of us living in the Old State House, as we had our own facilities there but the rest of the town was struggling a little. I’d requested that they prop up another amenity in the meanwhile and the tradesman were in the midst of expanding the toilet and bathroom block in the West annex.

I sighed, giving the collar of my shirt a little ruffle as I passed by the Christmas tree and made my way further into the developing Eastern annex. It was way too hot to be wearing a coat, especially a thick one like mine but I couldn’t be bothered taking it off and carrying it over one arm. I took my handkerchief out and gave my neck and face a quick wipe, paying special attention to cleaning out the scars in my skin. If sweat pooled in those, it not only looked and smelt like crap when it dried but was unhygienic. I wiped inside of my nose cavity as discretely as possibly, because there was never a way of doing this that looked socially acceptable and tucked the handkerchief back into my inside pocket when I was done. I wondered how long it would be until we started having serious issues with the water shortage. Normally we never had to worry about this, as the town collected enough rain and ground water to keep our tanks comfortably stocked but that was before we had a whole bunch of extra people shacking up here. Suppose it was a good thing that for all the drinking the good folks of Goodneighbor did, not nearly half of it was water.

I was a couple of metres down the road when I became aware that I was being followed. A strange looking, flat footed bird had been waddling along behind me for the better part of five minutes. It wasn’t much of a Ninja either; having caught my attention by honking at me insistently, as though I had broken some sort of promise to it and needed to be nagged every five minutes. I turned around and gave it a look, which immediately brought it up short and it stood at a safe distance, staring at me expectantly.

“Well hey there, birdy.” I said, glancing about to see if there were any others hanging about. It wasn’t the standard to see birds cruising around on their own as a principle but this one didn’t appear to be in any sort of company, other than my own. “You’re a funny looking one, ain’t ya?”

The bird honked at me again, as if to say ‘Well, aren’t you the one to talk!’ and stretched itself up tall, giving its wings what I took to be a derisive flap. I smirked, thinking that this funny little critter had guts just to wander on up to me the way it had; all bold as brass. A lot of bigger, badder human beings had trouble doing the self-same thing. I decided immediately that I liked it. And it wasn’t ugly; in fact, it looked a little like the old swan boats out in the Commons. Same oddly shaped flat beak, webbed feet and general body shape. Only smaller, with a shorter neck and brown feathers scattered amongst its otherwise white plumage.

I knelt down, wincing a little as my knee panged painfully in protest and extended my free hand to the beastie, rubbing my thumb and fingers together as I clucked my tongue in a hopefully encouraging manner. “Come here then,” I called, trying to invoke my inner animal whisperer. The bird did not look the least bit tempted by my offer and only offered a shake of its ass in response. “Hey, you’re the one who started following _me_ around and now you’re going to play hard to get? It’s not nice to mess with a Ghoul’s feelings like that, you know.”

The bird made a softer, throatier sounding honk, as though it were purposefully trying to be coy. Had to have been female; I’d seen those tactics in action before. I climbed back onto my feet and took another puff of my cigarette, waiting to see what, if anything, the bird might try next. It just continued to stand there and stare at me. Well, I didn’t think that it was carnivorous, otherwise it might have launched itself at my throat by now. Not that a beak like that could do much damage and a bite of me would probably convince it right away that it was hardly worth the effort it would otherwise take to chew through half a layer of what was essentially gristle. I gave a little shrug and flashed the bird a smile.

“Yeah all right then. We can hang for a bit. You can help me track down ol’ BC if ya like,” I said, walking on proper into the Eastern Annex. I glanced over my shoulder to see if the bird had decided to continue following me and sure enough, there it came in swift pursuit, feathered ass swishing dramatically from side to side as it hurried to keep up. I had to laugh at this; it was like I was back out in the Wasteland with Eve all over again.

We marched on for a bit; my funny little friend and I, checking out some of the stalls that were being erected as quickly as the supplies were unpacked from the caravans. I stopped to have a chat with folks here and there, knowing that it was important to introduce myself to those that were new and to reacquaint myself with the old regulars. A mayor that makes himself approachable to his people and guests is always going to run a much tighter ship than those who had no time for others. It reminded folks that I was within arm’s reach, not a scheduled appointment away.

I finally located Adrian down by the newly established Eastern Wall, watching with sparkly eyed enthusiasm as about ten or so workers set to work inflating what looked to be a giant rubber castle. Shit like this shouldn’t have surprised me; these guys were the major representatives from the West Coast and had travelled for over a year just to come and be involved in the fete. Being from the settlement known as New Vegas, the guys there always pulled out all the stops whenever they were able to participate in the fair. They also seemed to really like rubbing our noses in how far advanced they were compared to us poor East Coast slobs, whilst also giving us some fun toys to play with for a while. Nice fella’s too; delegates from a casino called The Tops. They fit in well with the Neighbourhood watch boys and gave them a good run for their money in the coolness stakes.

Adrian technically was on watch duty at the time but he most likely had gotten distracted by the big colourful castle. It wasn’t enough of a distraction for him not to notice me limping towards him however and he immediately put his head down, like a dog that knew that it was about to get scolded and started to slink away in the other direction. Pretending, I suppose, that he hadn’t seen me or hoping that if he hunkered down enough, I wouldn’t see him. Which was an absolutely pointless exercise in the very definition of the word because Adrian Buchalter couldn’t have hidden himself behind a parked Vertibird, let alone his own massive shoulders. He is, to put it bluntly, the biggest fucking bastard I have ever met in my life.

I mean, the guy’s built like a brick shithouse, with shoulders like a couple of cinderblocks strung together and a big, barrel shaped chest not dissimilar to that of a Super mutant. He was muscular to boot, being one of the few guys I knew who was actually so self-conscious about his Ghoulification that he focused all his efforts into keeping his body toned. Not that you needed muscles when you were by Gods own grace a natural, hulking behemoth. He would have to have been about twice my size, dwarfing me at… around six foot eight, would be my best guess. He was so big in fact, that he was no longer able to fit into any of the suit jackets that we had stocked for the Neighborhood watch uniform; so he simply wore the white shirt and pants, with a pair of braces that stretched so tight over the muscles of his chest that they looked fit to snap at any given point in time.

An imposing guy to look at for sure, not that it had helped him out all those years ago in Goodneighbor when Vic and his mob squad had been running the joint. Adrian had been treated like a big, dumb amusement; with most of the goons talking to him in a simplified tone as though he were a Super mutant on the receiving end of a botched lobotomy. It didn’t help either, that he seemingly had no concept as to how he should have been treated as a human being. You could have done anything to him back in the day and he would have just accepted it and moved on, only more the sadder for it. I remember one of the guards favourite activities had been to peg various things at him and see how hard they would have to do so in order for the object to break against his big strong body. Once, a bottle had smashed open right on the crown of his head, resulting in a gash which fair near exposed his skull. But instead of giving the assholes the right proper thumping they deserved, the poor guy just dragged himself away and eventually managed to crawl into the corner of our little shelter like a poor mutt that had been kicked by its owner. He then curled into the smallest ball his massive body could manage and waited patiently to recover, while the rest of us panicked and tried to sop up all the blood pouring from his wound.

Ironically enough, he had been on Marowski’s payroll at the time; pulling stints here and there as muscle for the Hotel Rexford, back when the place had been a thriving enterprise. Nobody had taken him seriously though, since he could barely scruff a person by the lapel without feeling bad about it. It had actually made me all the more protective of him and I had done everything in my ability to make him aware of his strength and that it was okay to use it to defend himself. When training out in the Wasteland, preparing ourselves for the coup against Vic, I knew that Adrian’s strength would be integral to us succeeding, if only he was taught to marshal it. It had been Thomas’s death, I think, which had pushed him that one degree too far. Not to mention how Fahrenheit’s ongoing torment had affected him; the three of us had gotten close during our time in the town and did our utmost to have each other’s backs. Seeing a friend getting constantly beaten and raped can force even the nicest guys’ hands.

It had taken some time and some serious pushing but Adrian had finally been able to transcend that barrier in his own mind and bring some vengeance to bear against all those bastards who had wronged him. I would bet that the last thoughts going through their minds were seeped in serious regret for smashing that beer bottle over his head, when he turned the tide and bashed their own thick skulls in with a sleeper. Which is how he had received his misnomer as ‘BC’; ‘Bone-Crusher’. A name that was much better suited to make certain that no one ever tried to bully him again in the future; a possibility that could not exist if he were to go on clinging to his original and much preferred nickname of ‘Addy’. Same thing with Melanie, whose predilection for burning parts of her enemies bodies as a torture method soon earnt her the eyebrow raising moniker of ‘Fahrenheit’. You can bet your ass that no one wanted to try sticking the pipe to a girl whose reputation suggested she would most likely light your pubic hair, and subsequently your balls, on fire.

That night of the coup had changed Adrian, as it had all of us but one thing for sure that clearly hadn’t changed were his feelings of loyalty towards me. Comparing us physically was similar to the size disparity that existed between a mole rat and a Death Claw but I don’t think the mathematics ever quite factored into Adrian’s head this way. I think he always felt indebted to me, which was ridiculous since we all owed one another for surviving that dreadful night in the first place. Regardless, he continued to show me a great deal of respect and even though he now served as the head of the Neighborhood Watch and had little to no difficulties with bossing the others around, he wasn’t so assertive when it came to me. A fact I might have been exploiting a little when it suited me, to be honest. But I _was_ the mayor, so you know; fuck it.

“Adrian Buchalter,” I called out, which froze him completely in his half-hearted escape attempt. “If you make me chase after you with this leg, I’ll be breaking it off in your big butt when I finally do catch you. Now get over here.”

He turned slowly to face me and hefted a big, sad sigh as he dragged himself over to receive his dressing-down. His thick jaw was clenched tightly; I could tell from the way that his bottom lip was protruding out to the side and his big black eyes only served to make him look even more like a dog that was expecting a kick. It wasn’t like I had to pull him into line often; in fact, this would have been one of only a rare handful of times and yet he had this way of making even someone as hard as me feel like I was the one in the wrong.

“Come on now, boss, that’s a bit of a low blow. You know how sensitive I am about my butt,” He said once he had made his way over to me. The comment made me want to smile regardless of the fact that I was cross with him but I bit the impulse back and pointed my cigarette at his chest, trying to keep it tough.

“It’s gonna be all the more sensitive once I’m done smacking it raw,” I stated, bringing the smoke back and sucking in another drag. “What’s this shit I hear about you ducking out on Mags? Poor gal doesn’t know those Grand Lanta guys from Adam and you just fucking light on outta there and leave ol’ Kenny-boy holding the bag. Guys just about having himself a coronary up there right now.”

Adrian tilted his head to the side, his brows creasing in towards his eyes so that he now seemed the slightest bit defensive. “Just… trying to help a brother out, boss. You know what it’s like, yeah?”

“Know what ‘what’s’ like?” I asked, quirking my own brow at him, wondering what he was getting at. “Because I’m not sure how you think forcing poor Kent’s foot deeper into the grave is helping him, unless you think it would be a kindness to put him out of his misery.”

Adrian looked shocked at the suggestion, the lines of his forehead just about ascending into the brim of his fedora. “What - _no_! Of course not boss, nothing like that! I’m just trying to help him get a bit closer to Mags, is all!” His expression softened around the eyes; sort of a juxtaposition between sympathy and sadness, somehow. “He’s darn keen on her, I think. He’s started coming into the Third Rail of a night and he sure as shit never did that before. Stays an hour or so with his eyes just glued onto the stage and then kinda just wanders back out. Doesn’t even finish his drink, can ya believe that?”

I was a little bit sceptical at this, though it did explain perfectly why Adrian had done what he did. Despite his appearance, the guy was a proud and out romantic and not much made him happier than seeing folks get all dewy eyed on each other. He wasn’t much like the other fella’s in Goodneighbor and casual didn’t so much as enter into his vocabulary when it came to women. Guy was the stereotypical ‘love at first sight’ deal and when he fell for a girl, he fell fucking hard. Which isn’t to say that he didn’t occasionally get so high and drunk that he ended up falling into bed with someone but he always got the guilt’s on something chronic the day after, questioning whether he should be ‘making an honest woman’ of the random girl he’d boned for probably the better part of forty-five minutes.

It made sense that if Kent had gotten sweet on Magnolia, Adrian would have been one of the few to notice. And not only notice but appreciate and take an active role in nurturing. The rest of the Watchmen would have just made fun, no doubt, because the very idea of Kent having a chance with a sophisticated bombshell like Magnolia was a rather farfetched one, to say the least. Not that I would have shot the idea down myself. I may not have been the raging romantic that Adrian was but I had a sentimental spot all the same.

But I had been down to the Third Rail on a religious basis since coming back to town and I couldn’t recall seeing Kent there even the once. Though I had been pretty blitzed just about every single visit, to tell the truth. Plus, so far as I knew, Kent barely drank alcohol, except for the occasional glass of red wine, which just about ripped him under the table, he was such a lightweight.

I said as much to Adrian, who gave me a look that almost matched the level of empathy he had been demonstrating for Kent. Oh god, now _I_ was supposed to be the charity case? Shit.

“He was sitting at the table by the stairs, boss. I noticed him because I was headin’ on up to take a slash and started to chew the fat with him a bit. Ya know what I’m like a few shots down, yeah?” He chuckled self-mockingly. “Anyway, I started keepin’ an eye out for him after that and realized he was turnin’ up a few times a week here and there. He only ever had the one drink. Though he mighta be waitin’ for an invite to join us at the table but when I asked, he said he was okay, he just came down to listen to the music. Had his eyes all over Mags like kelp on a Mirelurk’s shell. I think you mighta just missed him because… well, you’re pretty distracted by your own stuff these days, yeah? Plus, you’ve been drinkin’ so much, us boys all thought you mighta been preparing to amputate your own leg with a dull butter knife.”

I had to laugh at this because I had honestly been in such pain from the injury and so pissed off with it to boot, that I may very well have done just that if I thought it might get me back on the road that bit faster. Adrian knew very well what I was so strung out over these days though; not many secrets that exist between us. Guy was a brother from another mother.

“Okay, yeah. I see where you’re coming from,” I admitted, drawing the last little drag of smoke from my cigarette before dropping the filter to the ground and stomping the remaining embers out with my boot. I rarely chain smoked but it had become a bit of a habit lately with my spiking levels of anxiety and impatience and so I took the packet back out and fetched another cigarette between my teeth. I then offered the pack to Adrian, who naturally took one for himself. “But let me clue you into the fatal flaw in your grand plan, Mr Big-Match-Maker: Kenny boy may have stepped up to rescue Mags from what is, at worst, an awkward situation but that’s hardly going to traverse the fact that they are two very different people. Not to mention that old Kent’s so freaked out, he’s only likely to end up acting an even bigger fool in front of her out of nervousness. I’m not sure you’ve really done him any favours there, BC.”

Adrian’s face fell a little as he leant his submachine gun against his leg long enough to light up his cigarette. His eyes looked increasingly worried from behind the wall of smoke he now thoughtfully exhumed. “Oh come on boss, gals love it when a guy gets all weak in the knees around them. Let’s ‘em know how beautiful they are, eh? Besides, I figured if they just spent a bit of time together somethin’ might blossom, you know?”

I chuckled at this as I lit my own cigarette, feeling the tip of my tongue burn a little in the drawback. I’d lost track of just how many cigarettes I’d chuffed since getting back into town but from the way my tongue and throat felt, I’m guessing that I’d slain a few cartons in the very least. “Kent ain’t getting weak in the knees so much as gettin’ weak in the bladder, BC. And if spending time together is all it took for folks to make merry, then Eve would be Mrs John Hancock by now and nine pounds the fatter for it.” In case he wasn’t quite clear on my allusion, I made a round shape over my stomach to indicate a big pregnant belly. He laughed and shook his head in mirth.

“Jesus man… wouldn’t surprise me if you were the first Ghoul to make yourself fertile just by tryin’ hard enough,” he snickered, hefting up his tommy gun again and perching it in the crook of his free arm. He then gestured with the cigarette over my shoulder. “Doesn’t look like you’re exactly waitin’ around for little Evie to spring back inta town though, boss. Aren’t ya even gonna introduce me to your new girlfriend?”

I glanced behind me to see that my little feathered acquaintance was still there, waiting patiently whilst Adrian and I chatted. “Cute, huh? Picked her up just five minutes ago. Guess it must be my animal magnetism or somethin’.” I held my hand out towards the little bird and clucked my tongue again, trying to lure her closer but she wasn’t having a bar of it. “Funny little thing, ain’t it? Never seen anything like it around the Commonwealth before. Guessin’ it humped a ride with one of the Caravaner’s or something.”

Adrian made one of those little indulgent murmurs in his throat as he moved to my side and knelt down. His head was still level with my stomach when he did this, dude was so tall. “It’s called a ‘duck’, boss. Some of the fellas from Griffintown bought a whole bunch of ‘em here ta see if we might be interested in buying.”

“Ah, _that’s_ a duck then. So what, they use ‘em up Montreal way for eating?” I asked, watching as Adrian placed his gun on the ground and then reached into his inside pocket, slipping out a little round parcel wrapped in paper. The ‘duck’, who had been so quiet until now, let out a loud honk and jiggled its little tail feathers as though upset at my suggestion. “Hey, you listen up, pipsqueak. You go shaking your ass at me, you’d best be prepared to put out, because I had enough of that shit strollin’ about the Commonwealth the past year.”

“Well, apparently you _can_ eat them,” Adrian confirmed, looking apologetically at the duck as he unwrapped the little parcel and took out a half-eaten Sweet Roll. He pulled a pinch of the pastry free and then held it out to the sassy little critter, who cocked its head inquisitively. “But they’re also mainly used for laying. Not the type you were just talking about, boss but egg laying. Really useful for baking and all and making omelettes and all that. Safer too than stealin’ from a Radscorpion or a Deathclaw. Come on, now,” He called to the duck, waving the piece of sweet roll around enticingly. “ _Dill, dill, dill, dill._ ”

I gave him a look, wondering if he might have been hitting the Jet a little too hard before I strolled on up. “What the hell are you on with, man? Is that its’ name? _Dill-Dill_?”

He smirked and shook his head in my direction. “Nah, boss. That’s what I heard the Frenchy folks doing when they were callin’ em. Just a word they seem to respond to and all. And this ain’t an ‘It’, brother. She’s a little gal. See how she’s got no curl on her tail?” He gestured towards the birds’ tooshie as it did indeed wander closer, seeming against all pretences to respond to the offer of the sweet roll and the strange animal call Adrian had made. “The male ones are called ‘drakes’ and they’ve normally got like a bit of green around the neck… plus, they got a little curly on their tail there. Figured you would have known it was a girl once it started followin’ you around, yeah?”

“Figured it had to be a girl from the way she was sassin’ me, more than the fact that she was following me around,” I said honestly, watching in bemusement as the ‘duck’ pecked the sweet roll delicately from Adrian’s fingers. After a few mouthfuls of food, he actually managed to get close enough to wrap his entire right hand gently around the birds’ body and lift her off of the ground. She gave a soft little honk of objection but didn’t so much as struggle as he brought her up against his chest. This gal was not afraid of big burly Ghoul’s, it seemed.

“I’ll take her back and pop her in the pen with all the others,” Adrian said, keeping his cigarette pinched between his lips so that he could comfortably carry both the duck and the tommy gun. I followed him just around the right hand corner of the newly established annex, to where an open area partition was set out for some of the livestock. Sure enough there were a number of the honking critters waddling about within a small four foot high fenced enclosure. A trader from Griffintown immediately came running over, berating the little bird for her escape. Sounded like it wasn’t the first time it had happened either, which kind of made me hope she one day might succeed in her venture for freedom.

It was strange to see Adrian so reticent amongst the hive of festivities literally popping up around us; even stranger that he hadn’t gone entirely to water at the mere sight of animals. I started to wonder if perhaps his helping Kent out might not have been quite as selfless as he had led me to believe. When I called him out on it, he didn’t bother trying to deny it but gave me one of those strong, sad smiles that was so characteristic of folks who had lived in Goodneighbor since the time of Vic himself. A smile that said, ‘I can only be strong through smiling, so I will do so in the hope that you will realize that it is only thinly hiding the pain that I am feeling inside.’

“You know what this time of year is like, boss,” He said, pinching the middle of his cigarette so tightly he must have damn near squeezed all the tobacco up into the burning embers of the tip. “Having all this here rollin’ in just reminds of all that shit that happened way back when.” He sighed, looking a little annoyed with himself as he exhaled two funnels of smoke from the top of his nasal cavity. “I’m stupid, I know.”

I always hated when he called himself stupid; it harkened back to those days when Vic’s boys had beaten that way of thinking into him. Adrian wasn’t dumb. He was what I would consider to be a ‘simple soul’ but not as a result of having a low IQ or any discernible intellectual disability. Having grown up in Grand Lanta himself, life was very much about survival in the days when he had been a young lad. Slavers had been in control of the city at the time and Adrian and his family were forced to work in one of the most radioactive areas of the state; prospecting for loot amongst a virtual dumping ground of biohazardous material. There had been no precedent in place to allow any of the children in Grand Lanta to attend school, and though the slavers had been overthrown by the time Adrian was in his teens, the city had been left in such a state that every able bodied person simply needed to work, in order to patch-up the almost irreparable damage left in the wake of their hated overseers. Sitting down and getting an education was simply not a priority.

If that wasn’t enough, the radiation eventually caught up with his family when Adrian was in his late twenties. His sister succumbed and passed away through internal poisoning, his mother lost her mind through the acceleration of what Adrian supposed might have been a brain tumour and he himself had started waking up every morning with blood and skin and hair sticking him to his bedsheets. Only his father had remained physically unaffected though you might argue that his prejudice towards his sons own terrifying deterioration may in fact have been the greatest poison to have ever affected that family. There was little more that Adrian could do than to simply leave; his mother was no longer capable of recognizing who he was and his father had no desire to do so. He preferred to think of Adrian as having died from the radiation along with his sister and Adrian contented himself with the thought that perhaps it gave his father some peace towards what must have been the fast approaching end of his own life as well. He was much kinder than I was.

The poor guy hadn’t ever deserved to have been treated as though he was stupid and negligible. In my opinion, Adrian had in fact demonstrated great strength of character through his own determination to succeed. He had gotten himself all the way up the coast to start a new life in Boston and with only a base knowledge of how to do so, had taught himself to read on the journey. His hunger for knowledge had turned him into one hell of a bibliophile and the guy now consumed books the way most of the other folks in Goodneighbor consumed their daily chems. And yet in spite of everything he had accomplished, he was still unable to shake that last lingering little trace of insecurity; the poison that other people had all but injected into his veins.

“It ain’t stupid.” I said, giving him a stern look that suggested he take it easier on himself. “I’ve been thinkin’ about it lately too. Gotta remember though that things are a heck of a lot better now than they were back then. I mean, this is all good, isn’t it?”

He gave a puppet like nod of his big head, looking ashamed of himself for perhaps accidentally insinuating that matters hadn’t improved in Goodneighbor since Vic’s time. “Oh yeah, for sure, Hancock, for sure. It’s nice we’re all able to celebrate together. It’s a damn fine thing. Only that…”

I always loved how he peppered his speech with these dramatic little ellipses; as though his own conversation was scripted in typeface within his own mind. “Only… what?”

He gave what I couldn’t help but think was an overly melodramatic sigh. “Only that… It sure would’ve been the icing on the sweet roll if we coulda had the girls back for Christmas, ya know? They’re gonna be missin’ themselves one heck of a party. Just won’t be the same.”

Ah, and so all the pieces were finally starting to fall into place. I guess it should have been obvious; after all, Adrian was the type who set his sights firmly on a woman and wasn’t able to think about anything else but them for god knows how long afterwards. I had seen him infatuated before and knew first hand just how love sick he could get but this was a crush on a whole other level.

“I hear ya, BC.” I agreed, leaning against the wall of one of the restored store fronts as we continued to puff away on our cigarettes. I could do little more than agree really, considering that I was in the same rapidly sinking boat and all. “It’s a shame but… guess it’ll be just our two ugly asses under the mistletoe tomorrow night.”

I thought this might depress him all the more but he laughed just the same, finding some humour in our strangely shared predicament. “Aww, could do worse I suppose, boss.” He took another puff of his cigarette, looking at the ground in an offhand sort of manner. “So… you havennae heard from ‘em or anything then?”

Might have known he was leading up to this. Guy had been hankering for an update since the moment I had gotten into town but I got the impression he had been worried about upsetting the caravan, given the condition I was in upon arrival. “Got an update on the Ham radio from out at the Mercer Safehouse… that was about two weeks ago now…”

“Oh man…” He murmured, eyes widening with concern. “Just how far away is Mercer again?”

“It’s on Spectacle Island.” I stated, lowering my voice as I glanced about to make sure that no one was standing within ear shot. The Mercer Safehouse was established by The Railroad, who were a rebellion faction working to free Synthetic human beings or ‘Synth’s from their pre-established conditional ‘slavery’ to the Institute. I had somehow become a sort of ‘technical’ member of the organisation through my affiliation with Eve, who had been recruited to their cause. A cause that worked in conjunction with her own, as Eve was trying to break into the Institute to save her son and the Railroad were trying to rescue Synths from their preconditioned slavery to the Institute. As a result, everyone who had been travelling with Eve at the time we had all lit up on the Railroad was integrated as a ‘token’ member. By bringing us under the banner of their organisation, it had ensured our complicity and cooperation in keeping their secrets. They hadn’t much liked it, I know but Deacon did a bang up job of keeping the waters stilled and steady for what wasn’t always the smoothest of sailing.

The Mercer Safehouse had been established off of the coast on Spectacle Island; as a place where Synths were able to safely bunk down whilst they were being prepared to have their memories wiped. After which, they were given new identities and safely transported outside of the Commonwealth (usually) so that they could live a safe life, free from the persecution of the Institute. In order to keep up appearances, a settlement had been built up around the Mercer safehouse, so as to distract from any suspicions that the Institute might have.

I took another puff of my cigarette, keeping my voice lowered as I whispered to Adrian, “By the by, you might wanna keep your voice down when asking about that shit too, yeah? Don’t need anyone marchin’ out there and busting their chops.”

Adrian looked shocked at his slip and slapped a hand to the top of his hat. “Aww shit, boss. I’m sorry… need my fuckin’ head read, I do.” He snatched in another drag from his smoke, taking a moment I suppose in order to safely formulate his next few words. Though we made a big point on laying down the scare to the Institute in Goodneighbor, I wouldn’t put it past them to try and sneak anyone into the town. Happened once before, which had really put the mockers on the towns folk and sure threw a lot of my abilities as a capable deterrent into question. A little discretion, as such, was standard practice. “But… Spectacle Island ain’t that far away, is it? If they started headin’ this way a few weeks back, they really oughta be here by now.”

I tried not to let the concern I actually felt ebb into my tone, knowing it would only freak Adrian out all the more and force me to have to acknowledge the seriousness the situation might otherwise have called for. “That’s if they were headin’ this way to start with.”

“Well a’ course they would be, boss!” Adrian snapped instantly, looking pissed off at the very suggestion. “Where else ya think they might be heading? Evie wouldn’t go stiffin’ you like that, she’s a nice gal!”

I had a little chuckle to myself. Adrian was so loyal that I think he sometimes forgot that not everyone in the Commonwealth was obsessed with riding along in my tail wind the way that he and the rest of the boys seemed to be sometimes. Other people’s lives weren’t inextricably intertwined with Goodneighbor the way that ours were and not everyone viewed me with the same, underserved reverence that they did. “She may be a nice girl, but she’s also a busy girl, BC. With a son that was kidnapped by the Institute, no less. If she had a chance to get her ass into the big Tin, I don’t think she’d worry too much about swinging back round to pick me up. And I wouldn’t be blamin’ her none for it.”

Adrian gave an annoyed huff as he sank into the wall beside me, taking his hat off for a moment to fan his own sweaty face. Doing so revealed the long jagged scar which stretched above the crest of his earlobe; the naturally healed wound from where the beer bottle had opened him up all those years ago. He was self-conscious about this at the best of times and rarely took his hat off so as to prevent others from seeing it but I guess he was so hot and bothered at the moment that he really couldn’t be stuffed with trying to preserve my feelings. Besides, it wasn’t like I was some pretty girl that he was trying to impress.

“Argh, those Institute bastards are right mongrel dogs.” He grumbled, looking cranky and put upon. “All this shit they put good folks through, really gets up my friggin’ butt, man. I mean, stealin’ away grown people is bad enough but what kind of scumbags rip a little kid away from his mama?”

I couldn’t help but smile to see him looking so agitated, thinking it was a nice change of pace for a guy that was normally prepared to take the licks as they were distributed to him without question. “Well, look at you, gettin’ your hackles up there, BC. I’m starting to think that little Ink Slinger’s been a bad influence on you.” I slapped the backs of my fingertip to the side of his belt, knowing the answer before I even asked the question but in the mood to tease him all the same. “Don’t go and tell me now that you’re still carryin’ around that old _Publick Occurrences_?”

As I knew he would, Adrian plopped his hat back onto his head and then bashfully reached behind himself to withdraw from his belt the rolled, slightly worn copy of the _Publick Occurrences_ ; Diamond City’s own, somewhat begrudged newspaper. I laughed at the embarrassed look on his face as he hastily tucked the copy away.

“Oh man… now _that_ is just sad.”

“Well, she signed it and all!” He said defensively, looking for all intents and purposes like a big pouty child that had been refused something they desperately wanted when the Caravan came to town. It only made me want to mess with him more, in spite of how much of a bully it made me out to be.

“Fucking hooray.” I said, laughing as I twirled my finger in a mock, celebratory circle. “Goddamn it brother, you gone and got it bad for that little reporter, don’t ya?

He shot me a truly annoyed look at this. “Yeah, well you ain’t one to talk. Moonin’ around here all these weeks, looking like someone cancelled… Well, Christmas!” He said, gesturing around at all the decorations. “You’ve not been happy boss and we’ve all ‘effin noticed, so don’t you go getting’ on your bleedin’ high horse, done tellin’ me I’m getting all ‘starry eyed’ over some dame, when you sir, you ain’t no better!”

It was always amusing to see him get so riled up, not in the least because it seemed to devolve his accent right back to that New Jersey drawl he had worked so hard to tidy up. His words had found their mark however, tried and true even when caught up amongst the throaty keen of his heavy affectation. I _had_ been dragging my bottom lip around town these past few weeks, though I had been quite certain that I had done my utmost to hide just how low I had been feeling. Fahrenheit was the only one who knew for certain, I’m quite sure and she’s not much in for the gossip mill that so many of the boys in the Neighborhood Watch seemed to thrive on. I can only suppose that my pining had been much more obvious than I had realized.

I was finding the stuffiness of my coat even more irritating than before and I avoided responding to Adrian’s accusation in favour of stripping down, dropping the heavy garment to the ground by my feet. My waistcoat followed shortly thereafter. How John Hancock original ever got about in this sort of kit and caboodle without sweating himself into a pile of foul smelling goop I would never know, but I can only assume that the weather had been much colder in Boston all those hundreds of years ago.

Adrian was staring huffily, waiting for a response to what he had levelled at me, I suppose. I fanned my chest with the loose collar of my shirt, offering him up a little smile to try to assuage his own embarrassment. There was little point teasing one another about these matters; after all, we may have been the only two fella’s in Goodneighbor who could truly empathize with one another’s situation.

“You reckon I’ve been unhappy, do ya?” I asked, genuinely curious as to just how much unfiltered access I had permitted the folks of Goodneighbor to have to my feelings. From the look on Adrian’s face, I could see that I had left some glaring gaps unguarded and rife for inspection.

“Oh, you’ve been a right proper misery guts, you have.” He admonished, still obviously pissed off with me for having a lend of him earlier. “Tellin me _I’ve_ got a face longer’n a wet week, well you got one that’s longer than a wet… month!”

It wasn’t particularly eloquent but he couldn’t have more keenly made his point. For all the pretence I put up, my feelings had not been so easily hidden. Which was worrying, to say the least. Not that it mattered a fucking jot if the Neighborhood menagerie learned of my feelings for Eve; far from it. They weren’t the ones who would lock eyes on my Achilles tendon and let fly. Because if my friends and allies had taken note of my low mood, you can be damn certain that my enemies had also.

To be honest though; I could give less of a fuck if the crawling, sniggering masses had their fun at my expense. I was feeling almost completely blasé about the whole political infrastructure that had ruled my world for the past eleven years. I didn’t want to give it any more of my time, any more of my attention, or fear for that matter. This was a new level of reckless for me; the natural evolution of age and weariness and the insatiable desire to be settled and truly free. I was so tired of watching over my back all the time; protecting my position as Mayor, lest another evil asshole come along and wedge his ass into the tarnished throne in my stead.

All this waiting… Working all the while mind you and reshaping the town with my ideologies and my refreshed and invigorated sense of purpose but ever still poised with my eyes on the distance, longing for those gates to part and for her to walk back into my life again. _Look_ , I’d say, like a proud kid that had splattered something vaguely resembling something else onto a canvas with a stiff brush and only four colors to his name. _Look what I did. I made this for you, please say you’re proud of me, please…_

Used to be that I could never get my head around guys like that. The fellas whose legs would go out from underneath them whenever some dame walked into the room and flashed them even the smallest hint of a smile. But of course I hadn’t yet met Eve. A woman who had managed to topple me to my knees, not from devastating beauty, a statuesque figure or blinding, radiant confidence, no. But from her kind, soft and gentle heart. I had never met a woman who conducted herself with such class; who was unashamed and courageous enough to always try to do the right thing and resort only to vulgarities and violence when all other options had failed.

I missed her in two parts; the dear friend who had watched my back in the Commonwealth and the woman I had come to adore and desire. I felt truly pathetic and paper thin in my feelings for her; about as obvious as a great blistering welt and looked upon with the same repugnance. For the first time in my life however, I took my weakness as a point of pride; there was no shame to me in what I felt for her. It was a tribute to the kind of person Eve was and what she was able to give to people, even without having some understanding of it herself. I wanted to have my knees on the dirt for her; even if it meant lining my face up with the boots of my enemies. Let them take a swing for my oblivious, dopey smile if they wanted because nothing could ever matter so much as having her in my life. The rest of it just faded into static and drifted out of importance. I wondered how I could have ever paid it so much time in the first place.

I smiled to myself, scoffing at my own ridiculousness and took in another drag of my smoke. “Well… I miss her, BC.” I murmured, the smoke drifting out and back over my upper lip. “I got my heart set on that girl, and I miss her. That’s all there is to it.”

His face immediately softened, just as I knew it would and his eyes sloped down so that he looked almost close to tears. “Hey I’m sorry, boss. I wasn’t trying to be a dick about it. I know ya miss her. Miss her somethin’ fierce.” He dropped a hand down on my shoulder and gave me a comforting little shake that just about rattled every bone in my body. “But… you gots to make a move this time around. Better’n just shuttin’ ya feelings in and letting it drag on and on, right? Who knows, she might just feel the same way you do.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s just _dying_ to pitch her knickers and jump right on board all this necrotic Ghoul meat.” I snorted, giving him an impatient look. Last thing I needed was anyone else trying to get my hopes up more than I did myself. It’s true that Eve was a touchy feely sort of person, who loved to hug, caress and kiss the cheeks of the people she cared about but that was still a hell of a leap to actually climbing into bed with them. Close as we had come those one or two times we had been on the road, I still couldn’t convince myself beyond doubt that in a sober light she would ever actually want to be with someone like me. A man whose faults were more extensive than those that ran through his flesh.

And it _had_ been close. So close that I had myself convinced that it would in fact go all the way. Eve conveniently didn’t seem to remember much about that night; let alone _what_ exactly had transpired between us, but I sure as shit did. I may have been as plastered as she was, but my tolerance was much higher and there wasn’t chems or alcohol on earth that could obliterate those memories from my mind. 

The warm rush of her breath on my neck… the soft touch of those curved lips beneath my ear… the press of her hand as it slid beneath my shirt, caressing over the fresh burn that had been lain to my flesh…

But then of course the freakin’ Reporter had to go and ruin all that by vomiting everywhere. Ghoul can’t catch a fucking break.

Adrian gave me a stern look. “Oi. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about women all these years is that they care about appearance a lot less than us blokes seem to think. Worry about they own looks too much but love a man for what he can give them; not for what he shows them.” He quirked his lip at me and tapped me along the bicep with the barrel of his tommy gun. “Well… maybe not _all_ women mind but my instincts tell me that Evie… well, she’s one of them gals who just loves a person for who they are. And hey, you know her better than I do. Tell me I’m wrong, eh?”

“You ain’t wrong. But lovin’ em’ and wanting to get naked with them, ain’t exactly in the same ball park.” I said, tapping ash free from the tip of my cigarette. “Why don’t you just worry about your own freakin’ messed up love life and leave the rest of us Rad freaks to sort our shit out, huh?”

Adrian clapped one hand on his hip and frowned at me like a reproving parent. “Well. Excuse _me_ for caring, ya grumpy old prick.” _Never mind that he was seven years older than me_. “Fine then. You can just go on living a lonely life full of sadness, cold nights and suspiciously long showers, see if I give a shit.”

“Well, I don’t exactly see _you_ balling up and telling the reporter how _you_ feel.” I snapped back, thinking that he wasn’t wrong about the fact that I was grumpy. Hey, I challenge any man to try sitting cheery on a full year of unrequited love and see what it does for their mood. Can’t say I recommend it much.

“We’re not talking about _me_ , Hancock, stop trying to change the blimmin’ subject!!”

“I’m not changing the subject. You accused me of being a hypocrite not two seconds ago and now I’m just returning the favor.” I waved my cigarette in his direction. “You let Little Miss Ink Slinger slip through your fingers that many times… never saw you fronting up whenever she came to town. You just dithered around like a hungry mutt looking for a meal, waiting for divine intervention to come along and take the wheel. You wanna start handing out advice to everyone else, you best think about walking the walk yourself, brother.”

Adrian huffed a few times, looking flustered. “Yes. Well… I… That is to say… well…” His face scrunched together as though he was about to explode with frustration and then all at once his chest and shoulders caved forwards and he hefted a long theatrical sigh. “You ain’t wrong, I guess... I should’ve told her I loved her when I had the chance. Now it’s probably too late…”

I snorted out loud before I was able to stop myself. I mean, talk about dramatic. “Oh please… ‘ _Love her?_ ’ You’ve barely had a handful of interactions with the woman. Imagine how I feel; I spent almost every fucking day with Eve. For over a _year_.”

The big Ghoul glared at me from the corner of his eyes. “Don’t you go comparing my love to your love, it’s _cretinous_.”

I laughed, raising a brow in his direction. Adrian had a rather endearing habit of slipping unusual words that he picked up from any of the books he was reading into conversations with the kind of recklessness of Russian roulette. Often times they were used incorrect but he always flourished them with a self-assured air that helped him to get away with it most of the time. ‘Cretinous’ must have been his new word of the week… though I wasn’t quite convinced that it _was_ an actual word. He must have assumed that ‘cretinous’ was an adjective; describing how a person might behave if they were in fact, a cretin.

“Oh, it’s ‘ _cretinous’_ , is it?” I chuckled. “Jesus, now _that’s_ a big fucking word. Been waiting for a chance to use that, have you?”

“Better fucking believe it.” He responded, biting back his own laughter. This set the both of us off for whatever reason; the way people do when they’re over tired and everything seems hysterical even when it isn’t. Looks like I wasn’t the only one losing sleep due to a pining love.

“You could have just… cut to the quick and called me an asshole.” I told him through a barrage of sniggering chortles that I just couldn’t seem to temper down.

Adrian also laughing, shrugged his massive shoulders. “What and miss the chance to show off my ‘ _verbose’_ reading skills? I don’t think so.” He took another drag from his cigarette as our laughter finally trailed off and with a sad little smile, he added: “I got her a gift and everything, you know?”

“No kidding?”

“Well… I kinda got it… and I kind of made it.”

I groaned, tilting my head back and rolling it off to the side. Arts and crafts projects never faired well when it came to expressing your feelings for someone. “Oh shit... You haven’t strung her a bloody necklace made of Blamco Mac and Cheese or something, have you?”

Adrian pulled a face as he gave me what I think he took to be a little shove in the side. “Go on with ya. Ain’t nothin’ stupid like that.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, I saw this old camera Daisy had over in her shop and figured I might be able to get it workin’.”

“No shit?”

He nodded, looking mighty pleased with himself. “Yeah, took myself on over to the library and found me a book there about tinkerin with small appliances. When I found out we’d be getting the booth in here, I thought some of the guys might sell me some spools of film if I got it up and running.”

It shouldn’t have surprised me that Adrian could have repaired a device that had last seen use over two and a bit centuries ago. He was a fair tinkerer; second only to Rufus when it came to repairing things and he was a quick study besides. Not to mention stubborn to boot. Whenever he started work on a project, he was always determined to finish it; regardless of the effort or expense required. The same applied for when he was chasing after a woman.

“And it works?” I asked, raising my brow curiously.

“Yeah it works. Check it out, see?” Adrian reached into the upper left pocket of his shirt and took out a small photo, which he handed over to me. I could only guess that he had come across some scraps of camera film in one of his scrounging sessions out in the wasteland because this shit sure wasn’t easy to find. None of the shops stocked it, so far as I was aware.

I took the picture and looked at it. Adrian had taken a photograph of his own face; eyes squinted almost shut, his dark skin near washed out from the force of the flash. Can’t say it was the most flattering of photos and Adrian was probably one of the few people who could make Ghoulification look good. He sounded proud of himself none the less.

“Called ‘Polaroids’, boss. Means you can just take pictures wherever you want and they come outta the camera right away!” He held up both hands and made a gesture as though he was taking a photograph; a broad smile stretching across his face. He looked just like an excited kid whenever he got to talking about his little gizmos. “Pretty cool, huh? Now she can have pictures to go along with her stories in the paper!”

“Well ain’t that somethin’?” I mused, turning the picture from side to side. I hadn’t seen a photograph in a damn long time, not since I’d been in my early twenties and a travelling photographer had come to Diamond City to ply his trade. My Ma had literally rounded McDonough and I up, forced our nicest duds over our heads and trotted us out to get our pictures taken. This had only happened once before, when I was a real little tacker and my Pop was still alive. What I wouldn’t have given now to have had _that_ picture. “You know you done real good with this, BC. Keep it up and you’ll be givin’ old Rufus a run for his money.”

“Shucks, I don’t know about that.” Adrian said, smiling modestly as I handed him back the picture. He slid it back into his shirt pocket with a dramatic flourish of his wrist before fishing his cigarette back out from the corner of his mouth and tapping the ash off the end of it. “So, you reckon she’ll like it?”

I gave an offhanded shrug, meaning to tease him a little. “Dunno. You might have tried pulling a nicer face. That one looks like someone’s gone in dry on ya.”

Adrian groaned with annoyance and pushed me in the shoulder with the tips of his fingers, rocking me sideways along the wall. “Not the blimmin’ _picture_ , boss, the camera! As if I’d be givin’ any girl a picture of me, that’s a bit much, innit?”

“Never quite sure with you, son.” I said, smiling with amusement as I righted myself. I waved my cigarette at him and added sincerely: “If she doesn’t like it, she doesn’t deserve ya.”

“Aww, go on with ya.” He said dismissively; though looking pleased with the compliment all the same. Poor guys self-confidence had taken such a rattling through the years that even the slightest hint of approval was enough to buoy his spirits considerably. He hid it well with most of the other boys but I was one of the few that he usually dropped his guard around. Everyone needs someone they can show their weaknesses too, I guess. “D’you end up gettin’ your girl anything?”

“Figured the pleasure of my company would be enough.” I said, adopting a casual air that suggested I hadn’t given the matter any consideration whatsoever. As it was, I had indeed secreted a few little gifts aside for Eve; which I had hoped to be able to present her with at Christmas. Given that this was only two days away however, I had serious doubts about whether I would even be seeing her for the holiday season.

But Adrian didn’t need to be knowing the ins and outs of my personal business. This sort of thing concerned only Eve and myself; regardless of anyone else’s good intentions and or curiosity surrounding the matter. Besides, the guy was a regular chatty Cathy. Couldn’t tell him jack without all of Goodneighbor inevitably finding out a generous two minutes later.

Of course, Adrian didn’t take this as me simply being discreet concerning the situation, no. He chose instead to look positively gobsmacked by my apparent lack of effort.

“You bloody cheap goit! What are ya worth; like three point five mil and ya can’t even part with a coupla caps ta show a gal ya care?” He shook his head, looking disgusted. “Girl’s don’t want none of that vague, lazy shit, brother. They like _material_ things; stuff they can use and hold and… you know, refer to. Keepsakes, that sorta stuff. Spendin’ time and money is how ya show that ya love ‘em. Any damn fool knows _that_ much.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes back in my head as he lectured me. True, he was in a much better position to be doing so; given that he was one of the few fella’s I knew who actually had and kept girlfriends for longer than twenty-four hours but _come on._ I wasn’t exactly a neophyte when it came to the fairer sex.

“I know good and well how it works, BC.” I murmured, smiling as I tapped ash from my cigarette before bringing the filter back to my lips. “I’ve watched you lube the downward path into a woman’s pants many a time with shiny baubles and pretty things.”

Adrian’s bottom lip twisted unattractively off to the side, the eye closest to me narrowing to express his disapproval with what I had just said.

“That is _not_ why I got Piper a gift.”

I blew out a puff of smoke, staring up at him impatiently as I did. “Bullshit you didn’t.”

“I didn’t!”

“Oh yes you did, don’t go telling pork-pies.” I shot back, loving just how indignant and childlike he sounded when he attempted to defend his virtue. “You may be the nicest out of the lot of us but you are no different when it comes to your Christmas party expectations.” I gestured out towards the main drag of Goodneighbor; leaving a trail of smoke billowing across the bustling scene. “We all know how it goes: At least ninety-five percent of the town gets laid on Christmas Eve. It’s a long standing, respected tradition of wearing stupid hats, singing ‘Jingle bells’ and getting your rocks off. I know for a fact that if Little Miss ‘Too-Good-for-Goodneighbor’ was here, you’d be workin’ ya angle all night, trying to prise her panties out from between those prudish little legs. With the help of crowbar, no doubt.”

Adrian continued to look vexed that I had pointed this out but there was a slight curving to his lips that suggested he was pleased by the idea that something physical might potentially transpire between himself and the little reporter. Don’t get me wrong; Adrian was easily the most genuine and romantic out of all us fella’s in Goodneighbor but he still enjoyed a good balling, some as anyone else. He just had a clever way of disguising it to appear less… tacky.

“Yeah well… if stuff happens, it happens!” He snorted, having spent a good few moments imagining how it _might_ happen, no doubt. He had a faraway, misty look in his eye that I knew all too well. Probably the same one I had every time I fantasized about bending Eve over the hood of a junked car. “…But I wouldn’t be that friggin’ crass about it, boss! I’d prefer to think that I would…” And here he raised his hand and made a wavy line through the air, as though miming the movements of the ocean on a moderately windy day. “… _woo_ her panties off of her, with my gentlemanly demeanour and romantic gestures. …And maybe a baker’s dozen worth of beers.”

I chuckled appreciatively at his phrasing and he soon joined in; the pair of us bonded even further through our sharing of a rather sad and lovelorn predicament. Times like this you could only laugh at your own folly, or you would end up genuinely dragged down by it.

“Well, you can woo away all you like now.” I stated, hefting a sigh of bitter resolve, as I brought my boot up to press to the wall behind me. “Because it looks like our stockings won’t be getting stuffed anytime soon.”

Adrian genuinely looked close to crying at this, sinking backward into the wall with a wounded groan. “This is gonna be the worst Christmas ever!”

“Ah, don’t be so down about it, goomba.” Came a familiar thick accent from somewhere just off to my right. Sure enough, Meyer Scalice stepped on past me, his paired fingers reaching out to pluck Adrian’s cigarette out from between his lips. He pinched the filter tight, brought it to his own mouth and took a long deep drag, exhaling lazily out from his nasal cavity. “Gettin’ lucky ain’t all that important in the big scheme of things.”

Meyer had always been such an interesting character. I still have no idea just how old he is, though he had been living in Goodneighbor long before my time and informed me during one of our first meetings that he was ‘getting on, but he wasn’t _pre-war antique._ ’ What little I knew about his past was that he had been raised in a sequestered community in the Maine area; a town comprised of individuals of direct Boston Italian descent, who were determined to keep their culture separate from the influences of the changing Commonwealth.

The town no longer existed; the infrastructure reportedly collapsing long before my own time and further back than just about anyone could remember. Kent had once told me that he had stumbled upon the community approximately eighty years ago but they had quickly run him out of town when they discovered that he wasn’t of Italian descent. This indicated that Meyer must have been of considerable age himself, though he could be very coy about fronting up with the details.

I’m not certain that the town was entirely genuine in its mission to preserve the original Italian culture of Boston either because Meyer had a way of speaking that made him sound altogether too much like one of those cheesy Mafia bad guys from the Silver Shroud Radio show. I was in fact half convinced that the founders of this ‘Italian preservation project’ had simply discovered a bunch of these old holotapes and went nuts with it.

I know it’s not nice of me to make fun but I sure as hell had a lot to work with and very little self-control of my tendency to pot-stir. Adrian too often got a fair ribbing from me on account of his still heavy tongued New Jersey accent; which progressively thickened the more angry or emotional he became. I once had him reduced to a near apocalyptic rage when he pointed out that a ‘radiation storm was rolling in’ and I purposefully pretended that I couldn’t understand the word ‘storm’, which he pronounced ‘ _stoyme’._ He continued repeating the word at me furiously, to the point that I had nearly collapsed into hysterics because he became almost incomprehensible in his desperation.

Still, the pair of them got their own back well enough. Meyer often liked to point out the glaring discrepancy in my own voice; how I could produce a deeper, smoother tone when I was apparently trying to ‘win someone over’. He called it the ‘smoother manoeuvre’, whilst most of the other boys simply referred to it as my ‘creeper voice’. I believe that it’s just an inflection of my own need to control a situation once an unknown quantity walked in the gate. Besides, I think they were just jealous that it worked a treat with the ladies. No accounting for jealousy, as they say.

I rolled my eyes at Meyer as I took another drag of my cigarette. “This coming from the guy who’s actually _getting_ laid with monotonous regularity.”

Meyer gave another lazy shrug, staring off into the air with his usual expression of glib nonchalance. It was hard to believe that beneath this seemingly sleepy façade dwelled a brutal fucking badass, who could own a group of Raider’s with nothing to his name but the fire axe that he had carried and cared for since the night of the coup. He had once told me, quite earnestly that he preferred using a melee weapon than a gun because, and I quote, ‘there’s no pretending like you ain’t the one rubbed someone out when you’ve buried a blade in them’.

 _“Besides,”_ he had added, with a smile that made me wonder just how much he enjoyed his responsibilities. _“An axe is the only weapon that can bludgeon as hard as it can cleave, Capo dei capi. Ain’t nothing else in the world that can beat and break your bones while clippin’ your limbs away, all in the one stroke. Ya dig?”_

None of this slightly sadistic excitement was present now however and he simply added with a tired drawl; “Yeah, but it’s married sex. You know… it’s like a routine oil change. Somethin’ to keep the tip of your dipstick wet and that’s it.”

My eyes widened and I let out an involuntary chuckle. “Wow… Well, I don’t know about _you_ BC but I think that’s just about taken the romance out of it for me.”

Meyer slung the blade of the axe down off of his shoulder and waved it lightly at me. It still amazed me just how well he cared for that blade; even after all these years it continued to glint bright in the afternoon light.

“If you’re looking for romance, take my advice: _Don’t_ get married. Nothing less romantic in the world than getting married.”

I raised my arms in the air and pulled a face, appealing towards Adrian for some support against this rather disheartening portrait Meyer was painting. “Am I seriously hearing this shit? Hey,” I stated, pointing what remained of my cigarette at Meyer. “I am going straight to Meagan and dobbing you in, brother.”

Meyer chuckled as he sucked in another drag of the cigarette. “You kidding? Said worse stuff to the old lady over the years. Shit ain’t news to her.”

Meagan Scalice, the town’s unofficial haberdasher, was Meyer’s wife of eleven or so years and alongside Magnolia considered to be one of the two great beauties of Goodneighbor. She and Meyer had gotten married shortly after the coup and were, by my own reckoning, the unsurpassed definition of a perfect couple.

They loved each other dearly and deeply; not that you would know it by the way they spoke to one another. Catch them alone and they couldn’t say enough nice things about their better half but to watch them converse… good god. Meyer and Meagan traded barbs in the style of age old enemies; deriding, griping and humorously abusive. Often times they would even openly plan the others murder; usually by suffocation with a pillow whilst one of them was sleeping or as Meagan once cheerfully exposited, by sprinkling fibreglass in Meyer’s dinner. Meyer had responded that it was an ingenious plan because Meagan’s cooking was so horrible, that he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference in quality. They simply loved giving shit to each other.

This was the kind of relationship that I had been waiting for most of my life. Someone down to earth, who didn’t take themselves too seriously. Who could have fun and laugh at herself and laugh at me too. Someone who was a lover and a friend; the person that _I_ could roll with and bounce off of. The way that Meyer and Meagan loved to torment each other but could still hug and kiss and hold hands. A real love, which wasn’t pretentious and fluffy and unrealistically poised in a fairy tale land where you were simply supposed to swoon and weep and get all sentimental and shit about your lover.

Adrian smirked in response to Meyer’s statement and reached across to yank what little remained of his cigarette out of the other Ghoul’s hands. “If a guy nicknamed ‘the Fireman’ has so much trouble keeping the heat alive in a relationship, gotta wonder what hope’s left for the rest of us, eh?”

“Yeah, I can just see it all ending with a horrible axe murder.” I grumbled, wandering over to the standing ashtray and stabbing my own cigarette out. “Which’ll be _yours_ no doubt, Meyer. And knowing Meagan, she’d probably try and hold a BBQ the next day and serve you to the rest of us as hamburgers. So you can just jolly well pull your head in, at least until after my constituency is over, because I ain’t cleaning that fucking mess up.”

“What mess is this?” Asked a bright and cheery voice from just over my shoulder. Patrick ‘Call me Pattie’ O’Banion pinioned his weight against the wall between Adrian and I and flashed me one of his trademark white toothed smiles as he lit up a cigarette in turn. “Now, I know you two clowns ain’t still blubberin’ on about them dames, am I right? Cause that shit’d be too sad for words.”

Pattie O’Banion had been the youngest of the lads in the original Nine; only seventeen at the time of the coup but indispensable whence considering his unrivalled ability to wield two pistols in a combat situation. And in opposing directions, no less. Hardly surprising given that he appeared to run on seemingly endless reserves of energy but it made sense when you consider that a doctor had unofficially diagnosed him with some hyperactivity disorder when he was a child. A condition which reportedly made it difficult for him to focus on any one task at a time. He’d struggled with education and schoolwork on account of it but his father, who had been a weapons trader had noticed that Pattie was able to be calm and focus when it came to repairing and putting together guns. By directing his attentions towards weapons maintenance, Pattie had been able to learn to direct his efforts and focus where before he had so much difficulty. And because of his ability to move quickly between subjects, he could quickly and effortlessly focus on shooting more than one person at a time and with near perfect accuracy and whip like reflexes.

He was a Smoothskin still; slender but fit, with long toned legs and dirty blond hair that he pulled back into what most of us defined as a ‘skull knob’ but he insisted was in fact a man bun. He had almost perfectly straight white teeth; which hardly seemed fair, given that he smoked but he was fanatical about keeping them brushed because he whole heartedly believed that women noticed a nice smile first. And he did in fact have a charming smile, I must confess.

He was also an unrepentant show pony, who was never short of a girlfriend, though he never stuck with them long enough to perhaps justify the use of the term ‘girlfriend’. He was usually first cab off the rank whenever a new woman appeared in town, as he had been around the block so many times that he was starting to settle for ‘second seatings’, as he so charmingly put it. I mean, not that I can talk, I suppose. It pains me to think that we have no doubt slept with the same women at some point along the line.

The kid liked to dance, sing, swing and show off and he was just charming enough and good looking enough to get away with it. He was in fact, almost a carbon copy of me when I had been the same age. Roughly over a hundred thousand years ago.

Adrian’s eyes narrowed at the younger chap; no doubt annoyed that for all the weight he pulled as ‘unofficial head of the Neighborhood watch’, he rarely got the respect he deserved from the other fellas. Well, respect he got and he sure as shit could give them a box around the ears when they got too cheeky but they kept on coming back for more, all the same.

“We’re not blubberin’.” He snapped, rolling his shoulders as he stared back off into the ether with a churlish expression on his face. “We’re… brooding. Ya know… in a quiet, dignified way. Like _grown_ _up men_ do.”

Pattie laughed in response, clearly not taking any offense to Adrian’s slight jab at his age. “Yeah fucking right. Bet yer wailin’ and sobbin’ into the pillow every night ‘fore ya go to bed, BC. Kinda like F-man’s missus I bet.”

“Oi.” Meyer stated calmly, pointing a warning finger at Pattie. “Just ‘cause it’s been a while since you’ve been to the mattresses with a dame, sonny.”

“Least I might get round to it tomorrow night.” Pattie remarked with a casual air, swinging one leg forward before tipping back so that his shoulders punched hard against the wall. He didn’t flinch however, so it mustn’t have hurt as much as it appeared to have done. “These chumps’ll probably end up tying a ribbon around their left hands and taking them home to bed.”

“Dunno…” I mused with an exaggerated air of seriousness, leaning against the wall beside Pattie and crossing my arms. “Might dress up my right hand for a change and give the left a break.”

“Palms startin’ to look a bit hairy, boss?” Adrian asked with a smirk, joining in with the others laughter as I raised my hand and pretended to inspect the palm for any evidence of the ‘so called’ hair.

“Got so many blisters on my thumb I’m startin’ to grow a horn there…”

Pattie groaned, shaking his head and looking towards the ground. “Jesus, I’m not sure whether I wanna keep laughing at you or fucking cry, man. What’s the deal? You used to be a right proper shagger. Don’t tell me old Munch hasn’t given you a chance to live up to your reputation yet?”

“Not as of yet, no.” I muttered, offering up a clueless shrug. “It’s a mystery, ain’t it?”

“Tellin’ me.” Meyer added, glancing up wide eyed from under the brim of his hat. “I haven’t seen you bomb out this badly with a woman since… well…” He considered this for a moment or two, cocking his head curiously and twisting his lip in a classic sign of uncertainty. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen that happen.”

Pattie gestured towards me with his thumb. “Not unless he went to Diamond city… girls there aren’t exactly hankering for the Ghoul meat. Still, you can’t be tellin’ me that in the… wait, how long has it been since little Blondie came to town?”

“Round late November last year…” Adrian said, crumpling out the dying ember of his cigarette and walking it over to place in the nearby ash tray. “We were just starting to get shit organized for Christmas, I remember.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh bullshit that’s why you remember. You marked the date because that’s when you first met the reporter.”

“Why you gotta cut me down like that, boss? Harsh is what it is.”

Pattie thought on this for a moment and from the widening of his eyes, had clearly come to a conclusion that either startled or offended him. He held up his palm as though demanding an encroaching army to halt in their charge. “Hold on one fucking minute; you took off with the Muncher about a _week_ after she first came to town… are you trying to tell me she hasn’t put out in _all_ that time you’ve been traipsing around the place?”

“Reckon I’d have thumb blisters if I was gettin’ any?” I grumbled, smacking the bottom of my foot up against the wall. It didn’t help to remind me of how pent up and squirrely I was but Pattie wasn’t prepared to ease up in his critique of my very vanilla year of sex-free escapades. His eyes had nearly popped from his sockets.

“That’s more than a fucking _year!!_ Are you fucking _serious_?!”

“As a heart attack, brother.”

“Whoa…” Adrian added unhelpfully, his own eyes awning so wide they appeared to be black holes extending endlessly through his skull. “Holy shit… that’s… that’s messed up, boss.”

I glared up at him, not appreciating the lack of support. “What, so you’ve been out laying the pipe since you met little miss reporter? Shit’ll break her heart if she knew.”

Adrian glanced down now, scuffing his feet and looking somewhat ashamed of himself. “Hey… Christmas party that year was a bit of a sad event... You weren’t there, we all drank a bit much… sometimes shit happens… and it might have happened a few times since... but, you know… needs must and all…”

Pattie flapped both hands at him dismissively. “Brother, you ain’t the one who needs to be explainin’ nothin’, what you’re doing is healthy.” He brought one hand down now in order to extend a finger in my direction. “ _You_ on the other hand… how are you not fucking _sick_? Jesus, you’d be able to crack a Mirelurk egg open with your cock by now! Please tell me you were at least giving it to a couple of girls at a settlement here and there.”

“And run the risk of Eve catching me? Yeah no, I wasn’t about to do that.”

Pattie took a moment to work out the maths in his own head. “So… _she_ wasn’t fucking you… and you weren’t allowed to fuck anyone else.” He came to his conclusion and didn’t look the least bit impressed by it.  “…That is, without a doubt, the stupidest shit I have ever heard!”

I rolled my shoulders indolently, wondering why I felt the need to justify my feelings in some way. It’s not like I was emotionally invested in protecting my reputation as a tomcat; especially when I was too old to be behaving like one. “Well, it wasn’t that I wasn’t _allowed._ We weren’t actually together and I don’t think she would have minded… maybe. I just... didn’t want her to… you know…”

“Get the impression you _weren’t_ interested?” Meyer asked, giving me a long enquiring look which said without words that he had clued on to my meaning.

“Well, yeah…” I responded, trailing off as I gazed back over the street center; watching a number of workmen track past, supporting a length of timber between them. The image of the wood reminded me of the long road I had spent travelling with Eve and the others and the number of campfires we had lit along the way. There had been a lot of cold nights out there in the Commonwealth and the smell of burning wood and pine was as familiar to me as the scent of good scotch and cigarette smokes. And invoked the same feelings of comfort and contentment.

One night loomed brighter in my mind than all the others; perhaps because of what it was that I had decided on that evening. What I had come so close to doing and what I might have lost in the process. I remember still the warmth of the flames on my face and the lingering taste of dinner still tapered to the sides of my tongue…

 

**_Outpost Zimonja - Four months ago…_ **

 

“You should go for it.”

I shot Eve a curious look as she joined me by the campfire, passing over another beer to replace the one that I had just finished drinking. We had only just come from polishing off dinner; a thick Brahmin soup that Eve had thrown together in short order; which had a consistency not dissimilar to gravy and filled with delicious chunks of vegetables. I was labouring now under food induced drowsiness and all the more dopey for it.

“Go for ‘what’ exactly, Munch?”

She smiled as she leaned into my shoulder, rocking me off to the side a little. “Don’t go playing the raw prawn, you know what I mean! That girl who was hitting you up when we got here; wanting to know if you were-” At this, she lowered her voice into a mock sexy tone and narrowed her eyes into what I suppose she thought was a sultry expression. “- Up for a little ‘ _tour of the town’_?”

She leaned back in the other direction now, giving me an encouraging look and murmuring out a soft ‘ _hmmm_?’ Like she was my wingman rather than the girl that I actually _did_ want to take on a ‘little tour of the town’. I chuckled along with her, appreciating that she was supportive of me but also a little disappointed that she was steering me towards the bed and arms of another woman.

“What’s her name?” She asked, crossing her legs and wrapping one hand around her ankles, taking a sip from her wine as she rocked forward and back. She looked like an absolute dork that night, though adorably so; swamped in a pair of men’s white long johns which buttoned up the middle and had a little flap that fastened over her ass. A number of us had made a game out of trying to unhook this during the evening, to the point that Eve had pretty much kept her back to the wall whilst trying to cook dinner, which was a heck of a feat. I suppose now that she was sitting on it, she finally felt safe to let her guard down.

“Belinda.” I replied, perhaps a little carelessly. I didn’t make it a point to sound flippant of other women but I didn’t want to give Eve the impression that I was interested in anyone other than her. Turning my eyes toward another dame might have suggested that I didn’t think of Eve in the same way, or that I didn’t care for her enough to hold off from chasing skirt.

“Old girlfriend?” She asked, taking another sip from her wine and giving me a curious look. She didn’t seem jealous in the least but rather far too cheerful for my liking. Damn it all to hell. It drove me absolutely raving bonkers whenever we went to Diamond City and Vadim draped himself all over her like a fur coat but she in turn didn’t seem the least bit troubled by someone giving me the odd bit of attention. Couldn’t have hurt her to look just a little miffed, could it?

“Nah. Just a gal I hooked up with a few times.” I replied, placing my beer down and pulling my cigarettes out from my inside pocket. I offered her one, which she took and then held steady between her lips for me to light. “Casual, you know?”

Eve exhaled a fume of smoke and cocked her head towards me tellingly. “I’m thinking she might like you a lot more than she’s letting on, darl. Girl seemed keen as mustard.”

“Hmm. Well… keen’s one way of looking at it.” I mumbled, cupping my hand around the base of my own cigarette to try and keep the breeze from blowing the lighter flame out. When it caught, I drew back a deep lungful of smoke and slowly released it from my nasal cavity. “But it ain’t nothin’. Just a bit of fun here and there, nothing serious.”

Eve smiled and leaned in to nudge me with her shoulder again. “A bit of fun’s good, right? You should go catch up with her. Give yourself a night off from us boring old fogeys.”

I felt a wave of irritation roll through me at her words, wanting to turn, grab her shoulders and shake her like a snow globe. God, this woman could be a pain in the ass sometimes! Referring to herself as an ‘old fogey’… Well, I suppose when you consider that she had in fact been born over two hundred years ago, I guess that _technically_ made her old but she’d been in deep freeze for most of that time. In reality, I was almost two decades older than she was. And here she was acting as though she was some tired old geriatric with a cup of hot cider and a rocking chair, advising the ‘young-un’ to get out and live his life instead of wasting it in her mothball pickled presence.

It’s not as though I didn’t want to have sex. Far from it. I hadn’t been with anyone since leaving Goodneighbor and that in fact had been only a scant night before I made the decision to set out with Eve. I was horny as absolute fuck most of the time and the offers that I received from various women we encountered from the settlements we visited were beginning to sound more and more tempting by the hour.

I kept putting them off though, because it just… wasn’t what I wanted. I had set my sights firmly on Eve; which was a frustrating gamble to be certain because I had no idea whether I was ever likely to get her into bed. I mean, she hadn’t shown any desire to thus far. And there was more to it than just sex. If it was just physical well, who really gave a shit at the end of the day? I wouldn’t have been abstaining from the company of other women if all I wanted from Eve was her body. But I liked her. A whole lot more than I liked most people. She made me laugh. She made me think. And she gave me quiet pause in a world that I had grown accustomed to being far too loud, busy and violent.

I wanted a lot more of this wonderful woman in my life; indefinitely if possible. Did I really want to risk ruining that for a cheap, easy fuck? Something I had done countless times in my life, which took little effort but was now so rife with consequence?

I gave her another puzzled look and scoffed dismissively, turning back to glance over the leaping spikes of the campfire flames. “You are one odd duck, Munch.”

She laughed loudly, holding both hands up in the air in a pose of innocence. “Why? Because I care about my friend getting laid?”

 _No, because you’re too damn fucking stubborn to acknowledge the fact that I don’t wanna be your stinkin’ goddamn friend_ , I sneered to myself, thinking all the while how hypocritical it was. Not like I had the balls to say what I was feeling out loud either. What I said instead was; “Because you put on such a class act most of the time but apparently you’re completely cool with me just slutting around with some chick.”

“She’s not just ‘some chick’, you said you’ve been with her before. And if you both know what you’re getting into, then where’s the damage?” She gave me a stern little look over the lip of her wine glass. “Unless of course she might have feelings for you and you’re keeping her on the backburner with a bit of attention here and there just so you can use her at your disposal. _That_ would be wrong.”

Honest to God, I had no idea whether Belinda might have had deeper feelings for me than just… whatever it was that she felt. I might have liked to go along with the attention women showed me from time to time, but I had no freakin’ idea as to why they did. Position of authority, maybe. Or the fact that I was confident and just didn’t give a shit. Maybe because I was rich. Or the outfit. Popular opinion was that women loved a man in uniform. Even one from the 1700’s.

“Poor girl would have to have more sense.” I muttered, taking a slug back from my beer. I nearly lost it all down the front of myself as Eve’s fist collided with my shoulder, almost knocking me over onto my side. “Oi, steady the fuck on!”

“Not if you keep talking that fucking horse manure!” She snapped, her fair brows pressed low over her eyes as she jabbed her finger firmly into my face. Damn she looked cute when she tried to be stern. “You’re being disrespectful to that young lady when you talk down about yourself! It’s like you’re suggesting that there’s something wrong with anyone who would fancy you.” She shuffled closer to me, leaning against my side and then placing her hand on my chest, giving it a firm comforting rub; as though coaxing the brow beaten self-esteem of a jaded teenager. I could tell she was a little tipsy for how out of focus her eyes appeared. “You are _funny_ … and clever… and sexy as hell, John Hancock. So, why don’t you just go ahead and march that cute little tooshie of yours out into the night and get yourself some? God knows one of us needs to.”

She slapped her hand to my chest a little roughly before using the purchase to push herself unsteadily to her feet. With a wink and a chirp of her cheek, she whipped about on her heel and made her way back over to the shack that we were all staying in; her round rump swishing to and fro beneath the loose material of the long johns. Damn she had a nice ass. I don’t think she even intended to send off any signals with this, which may be precisely why it worked for me.

And then suddenly, the words were jumping out of my mouth; much faster than I could hope to catch them. “Well, if you think I’m so funny and sexy and cute in the tooshie, why don’t _you_ give me some and save me the walk?”

I cursed inwardly to myself. Way to go and make her feel awkward and uncomfortable around you in the future, dickhead. But as usual, Eve surprised me with her unrivalled ability to just roll with whatever came out of people’s mouths and not let it faze her. She turned back to me and sort of rolled her head from side to side, as though considering my offer and then twisted her lips with a sort of _‘nah’_ expression.

“Oh honey, I am _way_ too warm and cosy in my onesie to go whipping my fuzzy mink out on a night like this,” She said, smirking as I burst for laughing at her description of her vagina as a ‘fuzzy mink’. “A nap sounds about all I’m really capable of this evening. I mean, all that huffing and puffing and wriggling around and me with a big sloshy soup belly… Sounds like a lot of work. Think you’ll have more luck getting your kicks with someone else. But thanks all the same, my lover.”

I chuckled to myself, thinking all the while that given the chance I would make short work of those long johns, regardless of how ‘sloshy’ her soup belly was underneath. I saw myself striding up to her, grabbing each half of material with my fists and ripping those buttons apart so that they ricocheted off in every direction. I imagined her breasts; tanned and rosy in the firelight, her skin glowing all the way down to that gorgeous tufted curl between her legs; her ‘fuzzy mink’, as she had so humorously referred to it. Jesus, I’d be in for a beating and a bit if I did something as crass as that. Sure was fun to think about though.

“Just being polite.” I said, smiling with great irony at the not so polite nature of my thoughts. I swirled the remaining half of my beer around in the bottle, noticing how the firelight through the glass turned the liquid blistering orange. “Seriously though… I don’t get why you’re so keen on getting me to go and bang this girl, Munch. Startin’ to think you just wanna get rid of me for the evening, eh?”

What I wanted was for her to say that she _didn’t_ want me going and hooking up with some girl; even if she wasn’t able to figure out why for herself. I wanted her to _not_ be so okay with it; to care a whole hell of a lot more that I might swan off into the night and comingle my body fluids with someone else. That she much rather I stay sitting beside the fire with her; both of us nursing our warm, wobbly soup bellies, sipping our drinks and just talking shit as per usual. It felt almost like she _was_ trying to steer me away from her and the very idea that there might actually be some truth to this, both terrified and pissed me off. Okay, it’s not like _I_ could talk but if she really wanted nothing to do with me in that regard, why not be upfront with it? Had to be better than dragging it out. Or disrespecting my intelligence when she made every obvious attempt to redirect my attentions towards someone else. Because honest to fucking god, how could any woman, no matter how cool, be actively encouraging this?

I mean, we danced together, we held one another… she had nursed and cared for me when I’d been knocked unconscious by those little shits in Diamond City. She’d kissed my skin; something that most of my past lovers hadn’t even been able to do. We’d linked our fingers and caressed one another’s faces and slept back to back and side by side wherever we ended up resting our heads. We’d done near everything but put our lips and naked bodies together and do all the fun ‘huffing and puffing’ stuff. I felt closer to her than I had damn near anyone in my entire life and far more attached than was safe for someone like me.

It welled up in me then, that anger interspersed so generously with a stream of unfiltered, childish pleading that went something to the tune of, ‘ _please don’t be okay with this… don’t tell me to go away… please let me be in_ your _arms, don’t drive me into anyone else’s’_ and I felt sick with the weakness of it. She could have poisoned me and it would have been a mercy in comparison to this.

She was trying to be kind. But if she had no qualms about doing so, what she would be saying to me was ‘I don’t want you. Go and be with someone else and stop wasting your time panting after me’.

But because she _was_ kind, she shook her firmly at me and said, “That’s not it at all, sweetheart. I just think that sex is important. It’s good for your health and if you have an opportunity to be with someone, why not just go for it? I mean, it’s been a while for you, right? And you’re both adults and single… where’s the harm?”

I could feel my temper peaking and I was struggling onto my feet, rising higher still to perch on the shoulders of a particular metaphysical peak of pure impudence. “Right.” I said with a short, sour tone that took even me by surprise. It wasn’t like me to be this fucking childish but it was similarly unfamiliar for me to feel so weak and embarrassed. “Hey… not like I’m gonna be hurtin’ anyone else’s feelings if I go stickin’ it to every dame that crosses my path. So, what the hell am I waiting around here with you for?”

I took my last swig from the beer bottle and then let it roll out of my hand and onto the ground, leaving it where it fell. I could see Eve’s brow scrunching together, her big eyes widening to form an expression of pure concern and hurt, before I turned and stomped my way off towards the main drag of the settlement.

“John! John, come on, I didn’t… John, _please_!” She called, but I didn’t slow for a second. It felt good and right to allow myself to be carried away with my emotions for a change. I had to suppress so much of what I was feeling as mayor of Goodneighbor that I barely had a chance to just indulge the things that I felt; whether they were right or wrong.

 _Let her feel like shit_ , I thought cruelly, jamming my cigarette back so irritably between my lips that I damn near shot the thing down the back of my throat. Playing that big old sweetheart game with everyone all the goddamned time, I was so fucking sick to death of it. She had to know what she was doing, surely. To hold me and touch me… when for so long I had been deprived of that tender human contact… Her siren call of kindness that kept luring me closer to the barbed rocks that were scattered all around her heart. Over and over I kept bringing myself to grief on her borders; gouged and aching, compounded by fear and all the while still unable to resist the temptation to turn my rudder back towards her.

I could only suppose that Eve was desperately trying to maintain our friendship, by acting towards me as a friend might otherwise would. The major failing in this instance however was that I quite obviously didn’t _want_ to only be her friend. I could live with it if I had to but what I couldn’t tolerate was being caught in the tides like this; drawn in over and over again, only to be shoved back out and struggling all the while to make sense of what was going on. I was drowning in a big old ocean of uncertainty and I’d much sooner know one way or the other, so that I could make my way to either shore and stop fighting against the waves.

 _So this is what it’s like, huh? Big man you are, having a fucking tantrum because she wouldn’t put out for you,_ a familiar scolding voice berated from within my mind. It was my own voice, the me that I knew best and he sounded completely unimpressed with how I was behaving. _You_ know _all the shit that she’s going through and that’s a hell of a lot more important than your pride, ya selfish prick. Pull your fucking head in. She’s a good friend to you at the end of the day and you’re lucky to have that much. She doesn’t deserve this shit, not from anyone let alone the guy who’s supposedly so head over heels for her._

I could have argued the point with myself all night, attempting to justify my wounded ego and my right to chuck a lolly every once in a blue moon but I had lit up on my destination much sooner than I realized. The settlement bar, where most of the residents were now gathered; swapping drinks and stories and sharing laughs. She was there of course; just as she had told me she would be earlier that day, if I had been so inclined to have changed my mind of course. Her face lit up when she saw me and in my weak, impudent state I welcomed it. I needed to feel wanted right now, without all this sickening anxiety and the fear that came along with it.

I had known how to play this game for years and I was bloody good at it. Since the moment I had been a little boy in school and all the girls had followed me around Diamond City, asking if they could be my girlfriend, I knew that to win attention would be no great feat so long as I was handsome. But even then, long before the radiation drug dissolved my good looks, I understood full well that charm, good conversation and a sense of humor was integral to hold a ladies attention. I never contented myself with being a shallow person; a junkie and a coward maybe but I respected women enough to never attempt to handle them. The only way to win this game was through abject honesty and being yourself. And if you happened to be confident and verbose enough well, it certainly didn’t hurt…

And so, not a half hour later, we were back in her shanty; clothed in the muted glow of her waning lantern light. I reclined in her lounge chair, sipping my scotch, one foot propped upon my knee as I watched her slowly undress. I had popped a couple of Mentats a minute or so beforehand; which was my usual routine before sex. It helped keep my perceptions sharp; so that I could fully absorb and appreciate every sensation.

Belinda wasn’t as striking as Eve but she was still attractive; in a more natural, homely sort of way. Her light brown hair curled softly under her pointed chin, quick blue eyes dancing beneath bangs that swayed across her forehead. She didn’t wear makeup as far as I could tell. And her body was smaller, more fragile and considerably thinner than Eve’s. She didn’t have nearly so many curves and her skin was a good few shades paler. If I had set my heart to it, I’m still not sure I could have found anyone so completely different. Unless I had picked up a man and this was something I sure as hell had no desire to do, regardless of how much I wanted to thumb my nasal cavity at Eve.

“Slower…” I murmured, watching with one finger pressed to my lower lip as Belinda, perched on the side of the bed, started to shuck her skirt down her long legs. She smiled coyly at my command and obediently eased her pace, bringing the material gradually lower down the curves of her thighs, over her knees and then down to her ankles. She raised both feet daintily from within the material, pointing her toes and then tipping backwards onto the bed, bringing her legs up straight into the air as she did. My eyes were immediately drawn to the slip of white material between her legs, stretched tight over the curves of her ass. It was only natural she knew my attention would be focused there, because she reached around and ran her fingers along the seam; which caused a stirring between my own thighs.

“You’re a take charge kind of guy, Mr Mayor.” She whispered, smiling at me as I climbed up out of the armchair and made my way towards the bed. I flinched a little at the title, not liking how it stirred up such a strong current of emotion in my mind. That was Eve’s nickname for me, usually when she was teasing or being tender. It made me long for her again, wishing instead that it was her here with me, rather than Belinda.

I reminded myself that I was angry with her; that I had sought out Belinda’s ‘company’ because Eve was rejecting my own and in such a roundabout gutless fashion as well. I stepped up to the side of the bed, gazing down at Belinda’s reclining figure as I traced one hand down from her crossed ankles; bringing her legs forward slightly so the backs of them pressed tight to my chest, her feet perched against my shoulder.

She was a nice girl. And accommodating, more to the point. Belinda was one of the few girls I hooked up with who would actually kiss on the mouth, rather than simply lay back and expect me to take care of her needs. Not that I minded taking charge but a guy sure as shit needed to get a little of his own back every once a while, you know what I mean?

I divided her legs at the ankles and brought them down on either side of my body, holding one firmly beneath the knee as I lowered myself towards her. She smiled, bringing her eyes down to half-mast as our lips met; her tongue gently moving against my own as her arms twined around my shoulders. My heart started its familiar rhythm in my chest; spurned on from the excitement that always came with these sensuous encounters. God, I had missed this. Being held and petted and caressed by Eve had fed a starving portion of my body but there was another mouth within me that was now equally hungry and wholly unfamiliar as to why it had remained malnourished for so long. With each touch and kiss, I slowly felt my strength returning but I was ravenous for more than just these tiny tasters and titbits. A hunger maintained so long as this required a sumptuous main course and I honestly wondered whether I was going to be able to control my appetite long enough to stagger the entrée without wanting to surge straight on through to desert.

Belinda was wearing a grey shirt that buttoned up at the front and with my free hand, I set to slipping the buttons out from where they held fast to the holes in the material. Her pale skin came into view, piece by tantalising piece and I helped her sit up a little so that I could tug the material down her arms entirely. Tossing it to the side, I returned my hand to the sway of her back and set my fingers to work on the clasp of her bra. After all this time, I’d be damn well surprised if I could get the fucking thing undone with only one hand but I had a reputation to uphold after all.

“You’re very impatient.” She whispered, her own fingers loosening one or two of the buttons I actually did keep fastened on my shirt. She wouldn’t go much further than this, I knew. Most of my lovers preferred that I remain almost entirely dressed; helped maintain the illusion that my flesh wasn’t a raging mess underneath my clothes. What flesh _did_ come in contact, well… they didn’t need to look at it so much as feel that it was doing the job it was supposed to be doing.

“Why wouldn’t I be impatient when it comes to you?” I breathed, turning my head and slowly bringing my lips back to hers; conducting my kiss at a languid rhythm which showed she had my undivided attention. Heh, how ironic, considering I could barely get Eve and her big dopey Radstag eyes out of my head. What do they say; a house divided will surely fall? Well in the very least I wasn’t going to keep my focus if thoughts of her kept cropping up and I didn’t much like being thrown off my game.

I shouldn’t have felt bad; after all, Eve and I weren’t together and she had in fact actively encouraged this encounter. But even as I deepened the kiss between myself and Belinda, I cottoned on to what exactly about the situation was bothering me; why even here and now, as I snapped her bra apart with my thumb and fingers and brought it away from her flesh, why I still felt vaguely unsatisfied.

I wanted sex. What guy doesn’t? But it was sex with _Eve_ that I was hungry for and rather than quelling that urge, everything I was supposed to be enjoying now with Belinda was doing little more than frustrating the ever loving hell out of me.

Which was ridiculous; after all, she was a nice sort, she had an amazing body, and legs that went all the way up to her face. She smelt nice, her hair was soft and when it all came down to brass tacks, she was a grade A lay. And yet in spite of all this, I just couldn’t seem to switch off from Eve. It was like I had a button in my head that had gone and gotten jammed; keeping her lit in floodlights at the forefront of my mind.

Even Belinda’s tits were annoying me and I can’t say that’s a thing that’s ever happened before. They weren’t particularly big but hey, when you struggle for food most every other day, you’re lucky to have any fat on your body, let alone where you might otherwise appreciate it.

Eve was built differently though. She was a curvy gal with a full bust and an equally round ass; in so saying: one big, scrumptious looking hour glass. I’d always been attracted to this body type; which isn’t particularly easy to come upon in a world where most gals were so thin they were lucky to have any shape at all. I think it may have started from the old timey posters I had seen around the place when I was a kid; showing off these women from back in the old days, who always dressed in such a way that their busts, hips and waists were purposefully emphasized into that delicious sexy shape. Suppose it’s just stuck with me all those years; hell, I’d been a dribbling madman for Magnolia when I’d first hired her to sing at the Third Rail. She and Eve had a very similar body type in fact.

All men are different, it’s true. And I’ve never turned my nose up at any of the women I had been with; especially when you consider how lucky I am that any of them gave me a second look, let alone took their clothes off for me. But let’s face it; we all have our type. And a curvy girl with a bit of shape and softness in all the right places was definitely mine.

I pressed my palm to one of Belinda’s breasts; feeling the softness of the nipple against my skin as I brought my fingers in around the supple little cone. She moaned, tilting her head back and away from me but the stirring in my loins was only minimal; far from what I might have otherwise expected. This sure as shit wasn’t the norm. I had never failed to be excited by a boob in my life and it was a development I can’t say I was pleased with.

I huffed a breath softly through my nasal cavity, feeling annoyed and a little impatient as I looked over the almost non-existent curves of Belinda’s body. In the light from the lantern, her skin looked darker; tinged golden and rosy from the effect of the lantern flame. Again, not quite so tanned as Eve’s but closer than it had been in the light of day. I lowered my lips to the crevice of her collarbone, keeping my eyes locked firmly on her flesh as I kissed her there, bringing my tongue in against her and closing my eyes. I could taste the salt exhumed from her pores during the hard days labour and smell the slight hint of perfume dabbed beneath her ear.

Eve wore perfume occasionally; she had bought a bottle from Daisy back in Goodneighbor and it had an oriental type scent. Belinda’s perfume smelt similar; something I had grown to recognize whenever Eve and I were close. When we danced or held one another or lay side by side of a night, talking until sleep took either one of us away into the land of dreams…

My heart started to pound as a raw flush of excitement rose up in my chest and I suckered a breath in through my nasal cavity. It was wrong, especially considering that I was with someone else but I indulged myself by imagining that it was Eve lying beneath me now; near naked, legs curled around my waist, murmuring softly as my lips and tongued danced across the arches of her collarbone. I could see her clear as day; shadowed eyes shut and painted lips ever so slightly parted to let in desperate gasps for air, her sweet, round breasts quivering on her chest as she arched to meet my kisses...

I groaned at the thought of it, bringing my mouth up higher still so that I could press my lips beneath her ear; taking in the scent of her perfume as I locked my mouth tight to her flesh and sucked in firm, wanting to leave a mark. I twisted her in my hold, lifting and then dropping her so that she lay lengthways along the bed; allowing me now to slide on top of her, my weight fully divested against her body.

“Hancock…” Belinda moaned from somewhere and I did my utmost to blot her voice out, not wanting it to break me out of my delusion. This was perfect, this here and now. She would get what she needed from me and I in turn could, in a somewhat runabout fashion, get what I needed. Imagining that I was here with Eve turned me on and where was the harm really? Neither she nor Belinda needed to know that I was thinking of her in order to get my rocks off. Some things a man’s allowed to keep private and his thoughts are one of them. Or fantasies, whatever.

I kissed her mouth; sucking her lips in and sliding my tongue against her own, fingers tangling in her hair. I wanted to devour her with the proof of my passion, let her know how much I wanted her; how much I had held back waiting for her. I adjusted her legs so that I could grind against her, letting her feel my hard on through the thin wall of her panties and she curled her legs ever more tightly around my hips.

I brought my lips away from her own, hearing her gasp a little as she took a much needed breath. I didn’t waste any time using my mouth for such mundane tasks as this; there were much more delicious uses for it than that. I took in what air I needed through my nose as I trailed my mouth down along her chin, down her neck and onto her chest. I kept my eyes shut, bringing up an image of Eve once again reclining on the bed; gasping a little, maybe observing my progress as I kissed down along her body… Yeah, I liked the thought of that… wanting to see herself pleasured by me was a pretty fucking hot idea. I imagined her big eyes perhaps fluttering, half lidded and then slamming shut as her head in turn rolled back; flush with desire as I took her breast in hand and then gently sucked the nipple between my lips.

Creative license was necessary to try and keep fooling myself here because I knew full well that Eve’s breasts were larger than Belinda’s. So I took my hand away and instead only focused on the nipple; which much for muchness felt the same regardless of who it belonged to. I could her Belinda’s voice gasping as I sucked that sweet little bud; using the underside of my tongue to massage against it, before using the tip to make hot sharp flicks to hopefully stimulate the nerves. Belinda’s hands caressed my back, her hot little moans turning to Eve’s voice in my head and I felt fit to bust with my desire to get right on inside and pile drive her into the bed.

 _God, I want you so bad, Eve…_ I moaned in my mind, bringing my free hand down beneath her ass. I yanked the thin material of her panties out of the way and squeezed and caressed the now bare cheek. She felt narrow; not nearly as full and plump as I thought she would there. But of course, this wasn’t actually her body at all; it was Belinda’s. I fostered up another image in my head of Eve’s big eyes staring at me from beneath her thick lashes; biting her lip as I toyed her nipple between my lips and tongue. It was enough to draw me firmly back into the fantasy and away from the reality that the feel of Belinda’s backside had brought me unwittingly to.

 _There you are, my sweet girl…_ I whispered to her, sliding my fingers up to caress the side of her face, running my thumb over her lower lip. She kissed it, took it over into her mouth and sucked gently. God, what I wouldn’t give to feel that sweet mouth on other parts of my body; places I hadn’t felt a woman’s lips in so long. _God, I wanna fucking get inside you so bad… make you squirm… get you wet… and dirty…_

I brought my hand down, encouraged by Belinda’s fingers guiding my own beneath the seam of her underpants, my attention turning to her other breast as a kind of second-rate distraction. The elastic flexed against the back of my hand and I felt the curls of her pubic hair against my fingers as I nudged further; curling my palm over her clit. She dropped her knees down on either side, opening herself up like a Chinese fan and I slid my hand further, my middle finger finally alighting on her wet centre. She moaned again, her hand locked around my wrist and pushing urgently.

“Oh God… please Hancock… just here, please… the way you did before…” She entreated, her words running one across the other so that they tangled in her own desperate urge to be fulfilled. I knew what she was after; same thing all the gals were after from me and most likely the only thing that allowed them to overlook the not so desirable traits of my physical ‘condition’.

I’d built a towering reputation based on my charisma and oratory skills; skills which did not wane once I stepped down off of the pulpit, supposedly. A cunning linguist, you might say. Or for a more humorous bend; particularly skilled in French kissing Mr Lincoln, growling at the badger or playing the hair harmonica.

To stop beating around the metaphorical bush; no pun intended, I was good at going South on a gal.

Always makes me smile to see so many of the Smoothskin fella’s get their panties in a wad, wondering just why I get approached by women so often whenever we go about the settlements. Ain’t rocket science. If any one of them bothered to practice doing their ABC’s with their tongues, they might have clicked on to the trick. Takes a heck of a load of patience to make a woman feel good but I tell ya one thing, when you’ve had to pony up sex for money, you learn pretty damn fast to get damn, fucking good at it. You show a girl a good time and she’s more likely to recommend you to other clients. Badd-a-bing badda-boom, more caps, more food, more liquor, more Chems.

Helps when you love your work as well though and I guess I’m just one of those guys who genuinely enjoys it.

I slid my hand back up over the mound of her cunt, using my middle finger to stimulate her sweet spot for just a few seconds, before drawing my palm teasingly back out of her panties. I plucked the hem up from the curve of her pelvis, easing my eyes open now and watching as I peeled the material down and away, finally laying bare her most sweet and intimate place. Belinda’s pubic curls were the same mousy color as her hair of course and Eve was blonde, so this interfered once more with the delusion. Not that I was even sure that Eve was a natural blonde; she did trot herself off to the hairdresser whenever she was in Diamond City and her roots _did_ look as though they got dark on our travels but experience tells me that pointing things out like this is not in a fella’s best interest. Women can be touchy about their little tricks of the trade.

I continued to tug at the underwear, dragging it down further; over the pale arches of her thighs and the knobbled curves of her knees. Her legs were a little spiky, no doubt from where the hair was growing back after a recent shave. No reason to point this out; folks who lived in settlements couldn’t always depend on a steady supply of water with which to treat their crops, let alone attend to their feminine ablutions. Eve had told me that back two hundred years ago, most women were religious in grooming their body hair but in our time, that was simply a luxury you couldn’t always afford. Apparently, back in the old days they even yanked out their pubic hair with hot wax. Yikes.

Belinda was trying to make eye contact with me and I was doing my utmost to avoid her gaze, bending her legs at the knee in order to slip her underpants down her legs and free from her slender feet. I placed them off to the side, slowly running my fingers up beneath her calves and pushing both legs apart so that I could take a good look at her. She looked ripe and wet and eager. I sighed with a tremulous hunger, leaning in further to plant a kiss on her inside thigh. My heart pulsed with an urgent desire to take the taste of her onto my tongue, to sup on her tender little gash and curl myself over that fey point of pleasure, which I would coax gradually and patiently into an eruption of ecstasy that would leave her panting, gasping and reaching for any manner of thing that might grant her some anchorage. And only then, as she lay splayed and recovering, would I take my own desire and plunge it inside of her still palpitating aperture, driving us both back up onto that luscious peak…

And all too quickly I felt myself tumble from these stimulating illusions, as the reality of the situation came to bear against me with bone crushing clarity.

This whole thing was… wrong. It was _so_ fucking wrong and on so many levels I was astonished I had been weak enough to allow it to carry on this far.

It was predatory to use someone like this. And unfair to boot. Here was poor Belinda; tolerating someone as god damned ugly as me putting the moves on her and I was disrespecting her kindness by imagining someone else in her place. I mean, was I really that hard up for a fuck that I could just shelve my morals like this? Jesus.

I was acting like a coward again. Not having the guts to try and pull Eve the old fashioned way, I was trying instead to fashion a simile of sex with her without doing any of the hard work required. It was fucking pitiful. And cruel. And… pointless.

It wasn’t ever going to be enough to simply imagine that I was with Eve; using another woman’s body to simulate the feel of her own. I wanted to open my eyes and see her looking back at me, feel _her_ skin and no one else’s. Kiss her lips and breasts and bury myself in her numerous sweet places, so that I could hear _her_ moans and whispers and soft entreaty’s.

I thought of her up there now; sitting by that campfire feeling hurt by how I had behaved but trying to not let it get to her. The same way that she always was when something wounded her; unable to pull her mouth up out of that miserable little drawl, her eyes shining and fingers wringing anxiously around and around and around.

…And then another fantasy; a kinder, somehow more intensely satisfying one. Myself walking back up to her, kneeling so that I could wrap my arms around her shoulders so that I could pull her to my chest. Holding her, apologizing for being the biggest, lousiest son of a bitch that ever walked. Promising I would never treat her like that again. Turning her in my arms, looking into those big, beautiful eyes; the color of a Radiation storm flashing across the horizon. I was kissing her. Lifting her to me, so that she had to stand on her tippytoes, with her puppy dog slippers dropping down away from the curves of her tiny, darling little feet…

And the illusion cracked apart, so easily as a mirror might have been laid to waste by the tempestuous thrust of my fist to its surface. This wasn’t Eve beneath me. Just some poor girl who tolerated my attentions because I was talented with my tongue. The real Eve was out there and she was hurting. Because of me. Because of my insecurities and my pathetic weak feelings of entitlement.

My erection, which had been so willing and strong, now all but withered into non-existence between my thighs as I eased myself back onto my knees and offered up a slow, measured sigh. Belinda struggled up onto her elbows in turn, staring at me from beneath her tangled tresses of brown hair with confusion.

“What is it…? Is something wrong, Hancock?”

I huffed out another meticulous little breath, bringing myself back to some level of control and offered her a sad smile; my feelings spearing out in all directions. Poor kid had no idea of what sort of mess she had stumbled up on when she saw me today.

“Yeah… you might say that. Sorry darlin’ but… it ain’t happenin’.”

Her expression of confusion clouded and she sat up further, her brows axing in to form a look that was almost accusatory. “Wait… what? Whattyou mean ‘ _it ain’t happening_?’ Did I… did I do something wrong, or?”

“Far from it, kid. You didn’t do a darned thing wrong.” I said, passing back over her underpants and bra from where I had dropped them, indicating that she should get dressed. I did the same, climbing back up off of the bed and walking over to where my jacket and waistcoat were draped over the sitting chair. I pulled them both on and then perched myself on the arm of the lounge; lighting up a cigarette and taking a puff. “It’s me who’s done the wrong thing.”

“I, uh… I don’t get it… _what_ have you done wrong exactly?”

She had a slightly combative tone now which I didn’t much like; her eyes narrowed and brows axed in as she glared down the line of her cheekbone at me. It’s not as though I had the nerve to demand that she take this rejection well but it did irritate me to see that Belinda’s first natural response was to take it personal and go in for the attack. I gave her a long, admonishing look as I pulled my hat back down over my head but she didn’t seem the least bit content to relinquish her bad mood.

“Try not to take it personal, Belle, okay? It ain’t anything the matter with you. Far from it.” I gave a roll of my shoulders, dropping them into a listless, weightless shrug which surely demonstrated my emotional surrender and confusion more than any words could. “I was… trying to convince myself of something that just wasn’t true and I was using you to try and keep fooling myself. Truth is; I’ve got it bad for someone else. Enough that being here with you… feels wrong as hell, you know? So I can’t keep going on with what I was doin’ and I’m sorry that I dragged you into all this shit. Ain’t your fault at all, darling.”

Belinda took a moment to run this through her mind; reaffixing the clasp of her bra into the nook of her back and sliding on her gray shirt. Her lips pursed in and her eyes took on a shine in the lantern light that I’m quite certain hadn’t been there before. But considering how divided my attention had been the whole time I’d been with her, well; who can say for certain?

“Which girl was it?” She finally asked and her voice lacked so much emotion and inflection that I honestly couldn’t tell quite what she was feeling. Perhaps she was trying her utmost not to feel anything herself.

“The blonde…” I replied, assuming that Belinda had seen all four of the girls at some point during our stay at the settlement. Not sure why she felt the need to ask; didn’t take a genius to see that I didn’t stray particularly far from Eve’s side when I could help it. “Her name’s Eve.”

Belinda nodded her head; though I felt that this was not a gesture to indicate agreement with what I was saying but acknowledgement of my response to her question. She slowly turned and twisted her legs off of the mattress, placing her feet delicately down in the circle created by her skirt. She didn’t move to pick it up however.

“… She’s pretty.”

I sighed, taking another puff of my smoke and leaning over to tap the ash into a yellow ceramic tray on the coffee table. “Yeah.”

“… never thought… _that_ was your type though…” Belinda suckered her lips in as though repressing what she was saying and then seemed to have a sort of ‘Oh, fuck it’ moment and reached down, tugging up her skirt and reaffixing it only as high as her thighs. Her face took on a contrary expression of aloofness; a defensive countenance, most often employed when someone wanted to send off the expression that they were ‘too tough’ to care. “Big old butch girl like that.”

Now that pissed me off to the max. Not that there was anything wrong with a girl being butch; gay or straight, those sorts of gender stereotypes didn’t have a fucking place in my world and I certainly didn’t judge one way or the other. Belinda clearly did however and she was using aspects of Eve’s features to try and suggest that there was something left wanting in her character and/or appearance.

Eve was a strong looking girl that’s true but there was nothing unfeminine about her. At five foot seven, she wasn’t especially tall and the majority of her weight was sequestered to her breasts and her ass. She did happen to have broad shoulders and a strong jawline for a woman and yes, her hair was short. But she was and still is an especially feminine woman; both in personality and in appearance. Soft, gentle and classy, with pretty, delicate facial features and outstanding womanly endowments, if I do say so myself. I found her as far from ‘butch’ and ‘masculine’ as I found Piper to be ‘shy’ and ‘retiring’.

I gave the slightest smile, understanding just where Belinda was coming from and gestured to her with my cigarette. “Careful, my dear. You are coming off as sounding the slightest bit bitchy.”

She proffered up a snort, indicating precisely what she thought of my statement as she climbed to her feet, wriggling her scant hips so that her skirt could be pulled back up into place. “Look, I’m just saying… girls got a weird looking jaw. Funny angle to it; all square like a blokes. And she’s kinda… you know…” She extended her arms to indicate someone big and broad, I suppose, which made me think of Adrian’s towering presence more than anyone. “Figured that’s why she lathers on so much makeup. Like she’s… self-conscious about being chunky.”

And this coming from a girl who was so thin she could just about limbo under the gap of a closed door? A girl who had nothing in the way of curves (or class apparently), felt that she had the right to shit all over someone else for _their_ body? I honestly felt like getting up and slapping her silly face in but of course I restrained myself; though the desire still resonated fiercely, spurned on by a prevailing need to defend Eve’s virtue in the wake of this horrid dissemination of her person. It seemed ironic that for all her talk about Eve ‘lathering on the makeup’ to address a perceived insecurity, Belinda was doing a fine job slapping on the conceit to mask her own self-doubts.

It angered me more because I knew how much it would have hurt Eve to hear it. Someone as soft and as gentle as her; who always gave folks the benefit of the doubt and approached them with care and kindness. Not that I think it would have wounded her particularly to hear someone refer to her as ‘fat’; I had made jokes about her backside being hefty on a few occasions and she just played along with a laugh. But for someone to purposefully pick point; to direct attention at seeming flaws in her body with intent to wound or embarrass… She always looked so genuinely shocked and taken aback when people were nasty like this. I had seen that look on her face every time someone made a comment to me about being a Ghoul.

I’m sure Belinda could see that I wasn’t impressed by this less than flattering assessment and I took a moment to calm myself; glancing off to the side and pinching in my brow as I flicked the ash from my cigarette into the ceramic tray with more force than was strictly necessary.

“Now, come on…” I had started to say but she cut through my words before I was able to get any further than this, plainly having no intention of easing up on her bad mood.

“Oh, ‘come on yourself’ Hancock, you’re not fucking blind.” She snapped, grabbing a cigarette from a pack on the nearby dresser and shoving it irritably between her lips. It took her a few tries to light it; her mood was so elevated. “She’s got a figure like a Deathclaw that ain’t been on a diet in a while.” She caught the light finally, drew in the cloud of gray and puffed it out judgementally, waving her hand out to ride the waves of her blistering resentment. “You know, and I’m bettin’ that that ‘blonde hair’ you’re all hung up on – huh, I bet it ain’t even her natural color anyway… not to mention her eyes look like a toilet that someone’s gone and taken a piss in. I mean, what the hell kind of color _is_ that? Just plain weird lookin’ is what it is-”

Well, perhaps her hair color wasn’t natural but who honestly gave a fuck at the end of the day? If that’s what Eve wanted to do with her hair that was her fucking choice and it certainly didn’t give anyone the right to talk down about her, simply because she preferred her hair to be one color rather than the other.

But talking shit about her eyes… that was one step too far. I adored Eve’s eyes; the shape, the color… everything about them. They were big and green and beautiful and looked to the world with kindness and tolerance and warmth. To even compare the color to piss left unflushed in a toilet bowl… A cold, disgusting, vile image…

I’d had just about enough of Belinda’s petulant bullshit by then and I let her know it by holding out my finger in her direction, jabbing the smoke towards her and showing a face that possessed not the slightest hint of an expression. This was a sure fire warning sign when it came to me and I could see that Belinda got it right away, because her shoulders drew up sharply towards her ears. As though she was quickly withdrawing back into herself, having realized that she had strayed well beyond the point of safety.

“Hey.” I only ever needed to start with this one word, with that no-nonsense tone of voice and most folks usually pulled their heads in without a great amount of follow up. On this occasion however, there was shit that needed to be said. “You’re pissed off; fair enough. Be nasty to me if you gotta… I’m the one who’s done the wrong thing here, but _don’t_ -” And I jabbed that finger once and only once towards her; making certain she took what I was saying on board. “ _Don’t_ you talk down about _her_. Ain’t Eve’s fault I got feelings for her; that’s on me and me alone. She’s a lovely person. Show some damn class.”

Belinda seemed to deflate then; like a balloon quickly relieved of all its air and her face actually expressed embarrassment. As though she realized that she had gotten carried away with her tirade and felt genuinely ashamed of herself. She sighed, rubbing her fingers across her forehead and groaned, looking away from me as she replied.

“I know… I’m sorry. She’s _is_ nice… she’s… _really_ fucking nice it just… pisses me off to find out it was _her_ … I… I liked her so much. Soon as I met her.” She shrugged, looking up now to give me a sad, helpless sort of smile. “She came down before to get some meat from the butcher and we… kinda got chatting. Listened for ages when I told her about… well… ‘bout how I feel for you.”

Well… that one was certainly news on me. I tried to meet Belinda’s eye, to see for myself if what she said was as deep as I thought it might have been but she avoided my gaze; glancing off again to the side and taking another self-conscious puff of her cigarette.

“And she was… just so sweet about it. Gave me this big old smile and squeezed my arm. Told me I should just be upfront with you about it… she even said she would… try to get you to come and speak with me again. Since you weren’t… you know… interested when you first got into town.”

Oh… _shit_. Eve’s words at the campfire earlier… the pressure she had been putting on me…

_“I’m thinking she might like you a lot more than she’s letting on, darl. Girl seemed keen as mustard.”_

I was the world’s biggest. Fucking. Dick.

Eve’s motivations hadn’t been about scaring me off; though I wasn’t entirely sure that this one was much better to be honest. She had quite simply been trying to steer me towards this poor girl so she had an opportunity to have an honest conversation about her supposed feelings. It also made sense now why Belinda had reacted so poorly; why she had taken such personal offense. She hadn’t only been interested in sex. Somewhere along the line, the poor girl had gone and developed feelings for me. And Jesus, it wasn’t like I couldn’t understand what _that_ felt like. All too well.

And for me to then go and tell her that the kindly confidante she had shared all her feelings with, was actually the woman that I had feelings for myself… She probably felt as though she had been tricked or handled in some way. No wonder she was embarrassed, the poor thing.

“Ah, shit…” I muttered softly, leaning forward on the arm of the chair and resting my elbows on my knees. I looked off to the side, musing with a small shake of my head before turning back to her; thinking of how much it would suck to be having this conversation with Eve playing the part of me and with myself in the metaphorical shoes of poor Belinda. “I am sorry, darlin’… I know it sucks but… I don’t feel the same way.”

“Well. Obviously.” She snorted and I was surprised to see the corners of her lips quirk up. I huffed a small chuckle; a sliver of relief cutting a path through my chest and lungs. Some of the tension bled away in the aftermath. “She doesn’t… know, I guess? Well… if she did, bit weird of her to encourage me to tell _you_ about my feelings.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me with her.” I murmured, smiling fondly as I took another drag from the cigarette. “Girl’s a crazy people pleaser. Prefers seeing other people happy than actually doing anything nice for herself. Startin’ to think she gets off on it, actually.”

“Sounds like you’re mighty keen on her.” Belinda said, giving me one of those looks that women are so prone to using when they think they know better than you. She puffed some air out from her cigarette and glanced away to the side. “You should… say something. Let her know how you feel, huh?”

I gave a dismissive shrug; ever more the coward for having nothing more definitive to offer. “Guessin’ you know better than anyone how _that_ particular conversation feels, love. And you’re a pretty young lady. Imagine putting _this_ ugly mug on the line. Can’t imagine it’s a very endearing long term prospect.”

Belinda gave a slow, bashful smile. “Why not? It was good enough for me.”

It was a disarmingly sweet statement and it earned her back some respect in my eyes. I shook my head in mirth as I gazed over at her, understanding full well how sympathetic my smile must have been. How ironic that the two of us were now in the same boat, when we could just as easily have been in the same bed instead.

“Haven’t the foggiest as to why.” I confessed. “Don’t get me wrong; it’s sweet of ya. Just not sure I understand it.”

Belinda laughed softly, looking down now towards her feet as she scuffed her toe along the floor. She left a trench in the light layer of dirt which had accumulated upon the floorboards.

“Well… you’re fun and… exciting.” She tilted her cigarette towards me and winked one eye. “You’re sexy… _great_ in bed… like you need me to tell you-” (Perhaps not, but I certainly wasn’t predisposed to hearing it.) “And you… you make people feel good about themselves. It’s like… so long as people are decent enough, you’re always decent to them. And you make a girl…” She sighed, staring off towards the shade cloth that fluttered over the window, puffing out her cheeks with an air of embittered regrets. “… feel like she’s…. special.”

It seemed a terribly sad thing to think that the world was so devoid of good men that a girl would find herself able to tolerate my deformities simply because I made her feel good about herself. I mean, surely the supply couldn’t be so tapped out that _I_ was the best viable option? Deacon, MacCready, Preston Garvey… all fella’s that I had met in my travels with Eve and decent men all round. Nick as well, regardless of the fact that he was a Synth. Why wasn’t this poor girl out there now, trying to dig her claws into one of these options rather than wasting her time and energy on an undeserving cause like me?

I sighed, knowing there wasn’t much that I could say that would make sense to her. Feelings were rarely manually directed and they were even more difficult to adjust once they fastened tight to a particular course. Time was the only factor that could see your path gradually alter but until then, you were stuck firmly on the route that the tracks took you. To derail this process only resulted in disaster.

“Belle… you _are_ spe-”

She held up her hand toward me, eyebrows thrust unappreciatively toward the lines of her forehead. I couldn’t blame her; it had been a shallow, childish thing to round up on. An expectation of insincere cliché’s; employed as a means of assuaging my own character, rather than reassuring her damaged feelings.

“Please. Don’t embarrass us both any more by trying to tell me that I’m ‘special’, Hancock. I think I might end up just chundering in my mouth.” She relented just the slightest bit at this, her right hand lip quirking up. “We both know that you don’t think I’m special. Only one gal you think is special and she ain’t in this room. She’s out there… So, uh… why don’t you go and find her, huh? Let her know that she is.”

The coward in me relished the feeling of relief that welled up; allowing me to be absolved of this situation in the least messy means possible and I went with it. Unconcerned for once that I had no need to try and be the bigger man. I had stopped this where it needed to be stopped and for once in my whole pleasure oriented goddamned life, delaying gratification actually made more sense than simply convincing myself that I deserved pleasure when it was offered up. I wanted… _needed_ more than a momentary, fleeting physical sensation.

I wanted to stop playing games; trying on the lines and acting, pretending to be some smooth, stilted over starched version of myself all the goddamned time. I wanted to rest and relax my face, my voice, my _everything._ I wanted to be weak and horrible and undesirable for all the grotesque realities that made me _me_ and still be loved for it.

I wanted a partner, a _love_ , a point of peace, a pinnacle of respite. I wanted to sleep and wake up and still see her there; smiling (grumbling, most likely) and asking ‘Coffee, dear?’

I wanted to share a hangover and life’s little waking concerns and a goddamned fucking Mirelurk egg omelette; all without the added pressure of trying to look cool and unaffected. I wanted to lay beside her in bed every night; just her and no one else and listen to her snore like a fucking Deathclaw being sodomized by a high powered Ripper. (Hey, I may have a major hard on for this girl but it sure as shit doesn’t drown out the reality of her nocturnal nasal wailings. Holy _shit;_ those vocalizations are _brutal_.)

All that stupid shit; I wanted. I was a man hurtling ever increasingly closer to middle age and the older I got, regardless of my self-afflicted ‘immortality’, the more I realized that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my days as a sad, doddery old bachelor. I had never been ashamed of sleeping around but I had also never been content for this to have been my lot until the end of time. I had been waiting for the right person to come into my world; expecting that when they did, all those feelings that Meyer talked about; all that goo-goo gah-gah lovey dovey crap, would finally make sense.

And oh boy it did.

So, I gave Belinda a hug and a kiss on the cheek; looked her in the eyes and said ‘thankyou’, with genuine gratitude and affection. She was sad and maybe would be for some time but she would move on and meet someone who, I’m sure, she would have all those same ridiculous crazy feelings for. The man, or woman even, who she’d want to thump with a pillow, stare at across a room for what felt like days and hold in her arms until every bad feeling in her chest just went up in a puff of smoke.

Perhaps it would make a bit more sense to her then; when she realized that such feelings were non-negotiable and more to the point; non-transferable. There simply could not be and would not be anyone else for me; emotionally or physically.

I made my way back to the rented shack; repressed in body but feeling a great deal more satisfied with myself for it. This felt right and it spoke volumes as to how much I genuinely cared for Eve; that no one else would suffice for her company, in whatever form that company came. Whether we ever progressed to having a romantic relationship or not, it was her that I wanted to be spending my time with. And until I got a definite yes or no, I was content to keep my hopes up and keep myself perched on the metaphorical shelf.

I had never wanted to be with anyone like this before; just the two of us to the exclusion of all others. Which isn’t to say that I never wanted to be settled or to meet the right girl; I had been expecting that it might indeed happen one day. So far, it simply had not. Not until meeting Eve. And even though we weren’t together, it felt a betrayal to even attempt to go to bed with another woman. I suppose because regardless of the reality, I considered her for all intents of purposes to be my significant other. The missing piece in my otherwise completed puzzle; that one little corner which let the sunlight through the window. I couldn’t disrespect her by caving in to my physical desires and whoring about the settlements the way that I used to. How would she ever see that she was special to me if I behaved that way?

I’d been having sex a very long time and this was certainly the longest ‘drought’ I had ever had; if you didn’t include when I was, you know, a child. Obviously I enjoyed it, like most folks I know but the appeal for the most part was now gone. I didn’t need to go climbing into anybody’s bed to prove anything, or to foist myself some caps or simply because I felt like it and the option was available to me. For the first time in my pleasure oriented slutty little life, I genuinely didn’t care. It was Eve that I wanted and if the only barrier to us being together was time to heal and grieve than I was content to give her as much time as she required.

I would be there for her one hundred percent; to provide support and comfort. I would prove to that poor insecure girl that she was worth waiting for, that she _was_ special to me. That I would much rather spend my days gambolling about the Commonwealth with her and then shooting the shit in the evening than trawling about looking for tail whenever there was a quiet moment. She still might decide at the end of the day that she didn’t want to be with me of course and it would hurt like hell but at least she would know for certain that I was serious about her. That it wasn’t just physical, that I didn’t hump barge with her and her merry band all for the chance that I might whip her outta her duds at some point. That I wasn’t some opportunistic predator panting after a vulnerable woman, who turned and left the moment he realized there was no opportunity to get his end away. She meant more to me than this and I would follow her to the ends of the earth, regardless of whether we ended up together or not.

In conclusion, it looked to be that old John Hancock’s touring days were behind him. At least until Eve made it clear one way or the other what she wanted from me. In the meantime, I guess I would just have to make do with the two hands that God gave me. Shame they weren’t pretty but at least I wouldn’t feel anywhere near as guilty as I would if I went and picked up some girl.

I saw the lights of the shack come into view and a little hitch formed in my throat; working on how best to phrase an adequate apology in my head. Eve was a bit of a goddamned pushover when it came to people, so I can’t imagine she would have held me to ransom over my earlier tantrum but I wasn’t about to let myself get away with some half-assed excuse either. A good sweep of the hat and dirtying of the knees was in order, to show acceptable remorse for what a right proper dick I’d been. Then I’d fetch her a drink, give her feet a rub, maybe… see if she wanted a few pages read from one of her novels or something. I hated reading those books but she couldn’t see very well of a night, not without having reading glasses and it was the least I could do for the way that I had behaved towards her…

As I was mulling this over, Deacon suddenly appeared from behind me, carrying an armful of wood back from the cutting station. He looked ridiculous as per usual, wearing a red checkered shirt, straight leg jeans, boots and a fur lined hat on his head. I suppose he thought he was blending in as a lumberjack or something but his glasses threw the whole look off. Why he wore them of a night I’ll never know.

“Gotta love the great outdoors, ay baldie?” He sighed, taking a deep breath in through his nose and then exhaling with theatrical enthusiasm. “All the fresh air, the romantic crackling of the fire, the assortment of creepy crawly beasties that like to sneak into your sleeping bag and wriggle up your ass in the middle of the night…” He tilted his head towards me and offered up a wide, knowing smile; the type guys normally share with each other when they know mischief has been had. “Not that some of us _need_ to be warmed up by the native wildlife, I hear. Didn’t expect we’d see you until the morning. The old ‘Sixty-minute man’ blow his top too quickly this time?”

“Nice to see that the gossip mill is still rotating smoothly.” I muttered, reaching into my inside pocket and taking out my cigarettes. I lit one and exhaled around it once the ember had caught. “Just how’d you go and catch wind of that, Dipstick?”

Deacon gave one of his annoying coy little smiles. “You guys need to stop being so surprised by how much I know. Dude, I get around. All those flies on the wall, all those ears peeking out of the woodwork… all just me in one of my many clever disguises.”

I guess he could tell from the look on my face that I wasn’t the least bit satisfied, or amused by this answer, because he then added. “Cherub mentioned you’d gone off to hook up with some girl you knew. And before you go spitting the dummy again, she only told me because some of the others were wondering where you’d gone and she was getting fed up with all the theories I proposed.”

“Is that what she told you? That I spat the dummy?”

Deacon cocked his head towards me; his lower lip twisted into the near same question mark as his usually playful brows. “Well, you know what Eve’s like. Gotta read between the lines a little bit. She said that she thought she ‘mighta pissed you off a bit’. Guessin’ it’s probably more than a bit though, given how upset she looked.”

If I hadn’t felt enough of a prat already. “What? She wasn’t crying was she?”

“Not where any of us could see her, no. Eyes looked all glassy though, like she was fixing to do it. Or trying not to do it, one or the other.”

I sighed sadly as I puffed at my cigarette, regretful that I had hurt Eve and still bemused by how sensitive a soul she was. “Silly girl…” I murmured, though my heart swelled with affection as I said it and there was nothing judgmental in my tone. It was a credit to her still unswayed and unscathed heart that she was able to feel saddened by an exchange such as ours and that gentle nature of hers was what I adored about her above all else.

Deacon sure as hell didn’t see this the way that I intended; his brow creasing into stalwart knots beneath the fussy line of his cap. His voice took on an uncharacteristically serious drawl; a tone I had rarely, I suppose if ever, had heard from the usually loquacious and light hearted bloke.

“Hey, she’s not the one being silly from where I’m standing.” He stated; his lips stretching out and along his face to the detriment of their existence entirely. “Evie’s a nice girl with a lot of shit going on in her life right now. Last thing she needs is people she cares about making her feel like crap.”

It was a fair point and I hadn’t any mind to debate it in the least. It might sound strange but it felt good for someone to chest up and read me the riot act (such as it was). I wanted Eve to be protected; and not just by me. It was right that any of the others should be standing up for her and I was relieved that she had their support. Even if I was the one who they turned their ire towards, it didn’t matter so long as she was cherished.

“You’re not wrong about that.” I shrugged, unsmiling and resenting myself more by the moment. “I feel like a right proper asshole.”

“Well, you should.” Deacon stated, his voice uncompromising. He clearly didn’t think that my feeling bad about what I had done was enough of a trade-off. Can’t say I would have had it any other way. “You keep in mind that you’re not the only one who cares about her. Eve’s one of the few people in this world that I can genuinely say I trust and that’s a rare thing in and of itself. I don’t like seeing her hurt.”

His anger at what had occurred, not to mention how seriously he was taking our exchange made me wonder if perhaps he had more of an investment in Eve than I had initially thought. I turned to him slowly, cocking my brow, hoping to God that I was wrong because the last thing I needed in this already confusing little melodrama was competition. Vadim and Xavier were bad enough but Deacon might actually prove stiff competition. Much as it pains me to admit it.

“Oh God… don’t tell me that _you’ve_ gone and gotten the hots for her?”

He looked astonished for all of two seconds and then waved a hand dismissively. “What? No, nothing like that. It’s like… I don’t know, seeing my Mom upset and crying. Or a big dopey dog getting kicked.” He shook one of the pieces of wood at me. “I’m tellin’ ya, if I had the balls and the energy to do it, I’d… take this piece of wood right here and give you a good solid smack around the jaw with it!”

My other brow rose to join the first and I could feel my lip follow suit up towards my cheek. “So, what? _You’d_ actually take a shot at _me?_ ”

Deacon took a moment to consider this, though from the look on his face I don’t think he had wholly committed to the consequences of getting into a fight with me. “ _If_ I could afford to waste the energy… yes. Figure I’d have to make it a goddamn good smack and then get myself a new face, possibly a sex change and hotfoot it as far as New Vegas. Now I’m fond of old Cherub and all but Jesus Christ that’s a hell of a jog for the sake of defending her virtue.” He glanced over his shoulder then, hearing the same rustling of undergrowth as I had and then turned back to me with a very pleased smile. “Still… judging from the way that Cait’s rolling in like a pre-menstrual storm front, I’m guessing I might be off the hook. Good goddamned luck.”

I groaned irritably, rubbing my hand across my forehead and wondering just how many of the merry crew I’d have to fight my way past before I could front up to Eve and apologize. Cait certainly didn’t look in any mood to be trifled with, judging from the apocalyptic look on her face, but I figured I’d try and put the charm on anyhow; if only to ease her temper off a little and spare me some of the headache that was fast encroaching.

“Well hey there, darlin’.” I said, lowering my voice into the same deliberate tone I most often employed when apparently ‘trying to get my way with people’. “Havin’ a good night?”

The ploy failed miserably, Cait looking none the least affected as she charged right on up, hands raised to deliver a stout shove to my chest. I stumbled back two steps, honestly quite astonished that someone had the balls to try something like this. Had been a long damn time since anyone had put their hands on me.

“Oh shove it, Hancock!” She snapped, her posture indicating that she was prepared to have it out with me and wasn’t afraid of retaliation in the least. Which was annoying, because I had spent many a year building a reputation that pretty much entitled me to being left alone on sight and not having to put up with shit, only now to have Cait completely disregard it. “Where the hell do you get off treatin’ poor Evie like that?!”

“What exactly did she tell you guys?” I muttered, taking a moment to straighten my jacket and set myself to rights. I was annoyed at the shove but I wasn’t about to get into it with someone that Eve was travelling with and who I, in my own rights, considered to be a friend. And to be completely honest; I was kind of impressed by her guts.

Cait glared from beneath the tangles of her read hair; hands planted on hips with her feet spread apart and planted firm upon the ground. “Only that she was encouraging you to take up with some little slurry you knew and that you went and got all pissy about it. What, you just gettin’ your knickers in an uproar because she ain’t puttin’ out for you, is _that_ it?!” She jabbed her finger at me; face pink in her anger. “Well, I’ll tell ya somethin’ for free; acting like a right proper dick isn’t gonna spring her legs apart any faster and if she’s nice enough ta be okay with ya schmoozing around in the meantime, then I think you should be goddamned grateful!”

“I’m not so clear on the moral centre in this debate, but I’m pretty sure I’m still on Cait’s side.” Deacon added, adopting the same pose as Cait and shaking the wood at me in the same manner Cait had just waggled her finger. “Bad Ghoul. No desert for you! Well… apart from the… you know, nookie you just had… but no _other_ desert! _And_ you’re getting the scratchy straw pillow tonight, so… you can just… pop _that_ into your crack pipe and smoke it!”

Oh Jesus, it would be quicker and less painful to stab myself in the forehead than try to explain anything to these two but I gave it my best crack anyway. “Look that is _not_ how it went down. Yeah, I got ticked off and yeah it was childish and stupid and whatnot. I get that. That’s why I came back-” And here I made walking-man fingers in the air, like a teacher pantomiming to a bunch of intellectually delayed children what travel looked like. “-to apologize to her.”

Cait gave an unimpressed snort, crossing her arms and staring up briefly towards the night sky. “Yeah, right. _After_ you went and got your rocks off with that stupid little settlement _hooer_ of yours. All’s well that ends well now that Hancock’s gone and got _his_ end away, is that how it works?”

I was quickly losing my temper. “I didn’t fucking sleep with her, _all right?_ ” I snapped, trying to keep my voice low lest I lose control and start railing off. I wasn’t sure how easy it would be to pull myself back in once I had started. “I was going to and it started heading in that direction yeah, but I stopped it. It wasn’t right. Not to her and not to Eve. I think I’m pretty much done with all that crap now.”

“How noble.” Deacon said, though without the inflection of anger to his tone which had been present earlier. He sounded somewhat amused actually. “Let’s see how well you fair the next time the offer lands on your lap wearing nothing but a good layer of baby oil and smile.”

“It can land anywhere… and wear _whatever_ it wants, I ain’t gonna go picking it up.” I took another puff of my cigarette and then carefully clapped my hands together, as though signing off at the end of a meeting. “Now, if you’re both quite done lecturing me, would you be so kind as to point me in the young lady’s direction so I can get my knees grubby?”

Deacon’s eyebrows lifted above the line of his glasses and he raised both hands, palms toward me. “ _Whoa._ Just what kind of apology are _you_ thinking of offering up?”

I had to chuckle at the way that he had taken this. “Whatever kind she needs. With any luck, hopefully the one that _you’re_ thinking of.”

“Oh, trust me. I am _so_ trying not to think of it. Like, _at all._ Yuck.”

Cait sighed and gestured with her thumb down to the right of where I was standing. “She toddled off down to the shitter a minute or so ago. You just missed her.”

“Charming. Well, talk to you both later.” I made good my leave then, turning about smartly on my heel and marching off towards the right with a lazy wave of my cigarette over my shoulder. I literally groaned out loud with obvious exasperation as Deacon saw fit to call out after me again.

“What, you’re just gonna stand outside the toilet and wait for her to finish up? That doesn’t seem the slightest bit, well, I don’t know, creepy to you?”

I sighed as I feathered the remaining ember from my cigarette with my fingertips and flicked the rest of it aside.  Any other time I might have possessed the energy to bumble along with Deacon’s teasing but I was far too distracted right then and there to give anything back. “Well, I’ll go and wait by the water pump then. When she comes to wash her hands, I’ll be there.”

“Hold on just a minute!” Cait snapped and I heard her bare feet come thumping up behind me before she then circled around and poked her finger to my chest; her expression stern. “Listen, mister. Evie is my best mate in all the world. That broad has stuck by me through some _really_ horrible stuff and believed in me when no one else could give a damn. So if you hurt her, you can damn well count on me hurting you back, you got it?”

“I thought that _I_ was Cherub’s best friend…” Deacon mused in a crestfallen voice from somewhere in the background. “Jesus… she sure as hell hands it around, doesn’t she? Now I don’t wanna say ‘friendship slut’ _but_ …”

I chuckled lightly, reaching out to set my hand on the curve of Cait’s shoulder; giving it a placating squeeze. “It’s okay. I feel ya. And thanks both of you for sticking up for her. I needed a good kick in the ass for carrying on the way that I did.” I smiled at their astonished expressions and offered up what felt, even in my mind, to be a helpless differing shrug. The sort that a man must only resort to when he understands that to continue fighting the inevitable is futile. “But I ain’t gonna hurt her. I love that girl.”

Well, it was squarely out in the open now and the pair of them stood silent in the wake of this bombshell. Deacon hardly looked surprised in the least; but then, I hadn’t expected him to be. The guy had his finger perpetually fastened to the metaphorical pulse of the universe; seeming to possess an unrivalled, almost supernatural ability to be aware of every undercurrent and goings on; even within a person’s own mind. It made me wonder if his comparison to being a fly on the wall, or an ear sticking from a tree trunk might actually have some truth to it. The day that something genuinely shocked him, would be a day that I would take extremely seriously indeed.

Cait on the other hand looked as though she couldn’t decide whether to shit or go blind. Having been raised in such a turgid and violent environment, she was accustomed to having to hide her inner feelings and tough things out but there was still, buried deep, a softness around her heart. Especially when it came to Eve, who she trusted more than anyone else. The only person who she trusted to spill her inner most thoughts to, to cry with. The only one she let touch her, who wasn’t a male that she was trying to get into bed. Her emotional attachment to Eve was the truest rival to my own and was so loving and genuine that it broke down the walls of her tough exterior entirely, to reveal the soft and self-conscious girl hiding beneath.

Like me, she wanted Eve to be happy, loved and supported. She wanted her to be special and valued and rewarded for the selfless nature of her gentle and disarming disposition. And to hear that clarity from my lips; that I adored her enough to be so honest with the people around us. Any of whom could in turn confront her with this information at a moment’s notice. Cait was accustomed to guarding herself, in order to prevent herself from being hurt by the person’s around her. She knew what it meant for someone in a position of power, like myself, to make such a concession. To show belly and throat and invite the blade.

I saw this all in her face, as it in turn crumpled; lines forming at the corners of her lips and her eyebrows creasing down slightly. She was so protective of Eve; so intrinsically and irrevocably linked with her and wanting more than anything for her to be treated well and loved. I can’t be certain whether she had any genuine feelings of warmth towards me. Probably not. I was a male, we both enjoyed shooting and slinging up but that was about the extent of how familial we were with one another. The thing we shared and had most in common with was the woman we both adored.

It was Deacon who spoke first, surprisingly; though he did so with a smile and an expression which said that he was really only searching for clarification. To something that he seemed to have already figured out.

“So… when you say ‘love’, do you mean like… a chummy, best buddies kind of love or… that other special, wanna see ‘em in not much else but what God prescribed ‘em, sorta love?”

I gave him a simple smile; void of innuendo and duplicitous meaning. “Let’s just say it’s the type that’s probably no good for me and leave it at that, ay?”

Cait thought on this a moment longer and then the corner of her mouth quirked upward; forming an arrow toward her left eye, which had in turn taken on the reflective sheen of a mirror. “Well… for fucks sake, what the hell are you waitin’ for, standin’ about flappin’ yer decrepit old lips at us?” She fluttered her hand and turned slightly, bringing that same hand to her upper lip as though to hide what might have been a beat of emotion. “Go and… talk to her.”

I went to reply; to tell her to trust me, to have no doubts about my actions towards this person we both cared about, but I hadn’t the chance. A screaming serration broke the night; a bellowing, grating shriek which rose to the accompaniment of a cacophony of crashes, the splintering of wood and the rendering of steel and concrete alike. People were yelling and screaming from somewhere off to the right of us. Carolling themselves towards the source of the original commotion; flashes of light sparking from the firing of weapons. Intermittent and fearful. Without conviction.

“What the hell is going on down there?” I wondered aloud; thinking even as I spoke, that it had been so long since my blood pressure had spiked appropriately to situations like this. There was excitement, sure. But it started slow and seemed to take a run up towards the event in a gradual incline rather than jab straight to my heart the way it once had. Getting older, I suppose. Not to mention the chems.

Deacon quirked one shoulder; a both careless and humorous gesture. “Maybe someone finally took exception to Cherub’s little fashion faux-pas. Told her she didn’t have the figure to pull off the long johns like _I_ did but does she listen?”

One of the settlers came close by; running towards where the unofficial leader’s house was situated and I reached out, grabbing their arm and pulling them toward me. His white rimmed eyes said more than whatever words might follow.

“Hey, what’s the go?”

The settlers’ eyes bulged with fear; his knuckles white about the grip of his since spent 10mm. “A Yao Guai’s broken through a loose portion of the containment wall and it’s tearing the shit out of the outbuildings on the west wing.”

My skin turned to ice as my eyes slowly trailed back along the path he had just carved back from the West ‘Wing’ as he put it. A number of buildings; none of any particular importance, so far as I could tell. Storage, mainly. For food. Building supplies.

Water and sewerage.

Cait huffed a grumbling sigh. “Damn thing’s probably starving and lookin’ for food.”

I was already booking for the Western annex of the complex, only giving thought enough to yell back over my shoulder. “The goddamned _outhouse_ is down there! That bastard’ll probably bite Eve’s head off while she’s stuck in there with her pants down!!”

“Hancock, you fucking idiot!” Cait screamed after me. “You don’t have a gun!!”

“What are ya gonna do; shine a torch under your face and hope you give it a cardiac event?!” Deacon added helpfully. I paid them no mind. It was pointless, irrelevant. Everything in my mind had blurred and fractured into nothing but white noise; that which was without purpose and structure. I could focus on only two things; Eve and the threat of harm that swiftly encroached upon her. The feeling overwhelmed me; the possibility that she might be harmed or even killed… I’m not sure my feet even touched the ground on my way down the hill. I think I might have hurdled the slope entirely.

I rounded the corner of one of the outbuildings; the sound of smashing timber lighting upon my ears as my ankles twisted sharply to turn me to face the disturbance. It seemed that a few of the settlers had actually grown some spine and they had surrounded the Yao Guai; which was crouched defensively on a pile of corrugated iron and crumbled wooden beams. A building that I immediately recognized as having once been the outhouse. I whipped my head around the crowd, trying to pick out Eve from amongst them but her messy blonde head of hair was nowhere in sight. More than likely, knowing how her luck ran, she was buried right under that Yao Guai’s big black claws. And probably being crushed into a fine paste whilst we all stood around, picking our asses.

“Oh for fucks sake.” I hissed to myself, sounding a lot calmer than I actually felt. My heart had started liberally hurling itself against my chest in alarm and I thought that if I didn’t try to pull myself together, that I might actually scream and lose my head entirely. “It’s like she goes through life with a big sign on her back that says ‘Fuck with me, world. And not in a good way’.”

Cait had been nearly correct to assume that I wasn’t armed. I didn’t have a gun, that was true. But I did have my knife. Wouldn’t have been the first time I had gone toe to toe with a beastie having only a blade to my name but I would sooner avoid that if possible. I was most definitely going to sustain serious injury if I rushed in there like a crazy man, swinging my toad sticker at a creature that on a good day could give a Death Claw a run for its money. If I could get it in the throat, sure but that was a big _if._

These were the rational thoughts that circumvented my brain and in any other situation, I might have paid them the _slightest_ more heed. But all I could think about in that moment was Eve, potentially crushed under the collapsed structure of the outhouse; maybe unconscious. Maybe dead. Or maybe awake and painfully aware of the weight increasingly bearing (no pun intended) down against her, perhaps crushing and snapping her bones, driving her further into the ground, as steel and wood and splinters pierced her body…

All that was common sense went hurtling out the metaphorical window with this image and before I was even aware of what I was doing, my hand had snatched up a piece of broken concrete from nearby. I palmed it, took aim and pegged the sucker as hard as I could towards the largest part of the Yao Guai’s body; it’s big, hulking shoulders. The Mentats must have helped me negate some of the wobbliness I might have otherwise experienced from the alcohol, because the concrete sailed straight and struck the decrepit bear directly in the side of its arm. It turned towards where the disturbance had come from and loosed a thick, raw bellow that could easily render a guys’ bladder empty. I felt the brief compulsion to turn, grab a gun from any one of the dawdling dicks surrounding the bear but it was a passing thought, with little substance to direct into action. All I wanted, all I could really fathom, was getting that horrible beast off of the crushed building.

“Hey! Furball! Get your big ass over here! Come on!” I yelled, putting my fingers in my mouth and whistling loudly, drawing the bears’ attention firmly towards me.

Well, it worked a treat and with a temperamental roar, the Yao Guai launched itself from the ruined peak of the outhouse and came hurtling towards me with clearly disagreeable intent. I slid my knife out from the sheath that was clipped to the rear seam of my pants, reversed the grip and altered my posture so that my feet were directly side by side but angled toward the left. I was banking on the Settlers using the distraction to take a few shots at the big bugger but with the momentum it had going, I would definitely need to shift my ass off to the side at the last moment. I might receive a glancing wound but I could wear that, so long as I moved quickly enough.

As the bear drew closer, its big black talons tearing up the earth in its path, I strained to hear even the softest pop of a firearm displacing one of its bullets. And sure enough one of them did; just one from what I could gather. And they missed spectacularly.

“Yep, um… okay. Feel free to join in anytime fella’s…” I yelled, far too little too late as the Yao Guai was already on top of me by then. I swore loudly, kicking off of my right foot, curling my left shoulder down and tucking my head in close to my chest as I dove to the side and rolled. I felt the displacement of wind whip across my back as the bears claws razed the air just inches from where my skin had been. “Jesus fucking H Christ!” I screamed, as I rolled back onto my feet and bounced backwards, re-establishing same space between myself and the pissed off beast. “Start shooting anytime, you _fucking lollygaggers_!!”

Goodness knows how any of these idiots managed to wipe their own asses without someone telling them what to do, because apparently they had been waiting for permission before opening fire. They did now with great verve and aplomb, offloading their weapons towards the bear; which staggered under the few bullets that did manage to piece its big side. Apparently it took me to be the direct cause of this unpleasantness, because he came for me again; mouth gaping and cavernous, with teeth the length of a child’s arm glinting with saliva and spite. I tensed my muscles once more, preparing to dive aside and thinking I might need to take a slash at it as it went by this time, when a whistle from nearby pierced the night.

“Here ya go boss!” Deacon’s voice bellowed from the crest of the hill above and I raised my head to see him pitch a large handgun in my direction. “Take down that You Guy… or, you know, whatever the fuck it’s called – Ah, words fail me, just take it down!!”

The throw was good but the gun was still too heavy to try and catch without breaking all of my fingers in the attempt. I let it sail past me and hit the ground, where it bounced and rattled off towards a rocky incline, leading out and away from the settlement. From the distinctive shape of the gun I knew right away that it was Eve’s big hand cannon; the one she had taken from Kellogg. Deacon must have run back to get it from the shack that we were all staying in. The fire power of that little beauty could quite literally knock a bear off of its feet.

I dashed to collect it, moving just the slightest bit too soon and instead allowing the Yao Guai to only slightly alter its course, so that it could keep coming after me without slowing down. This big bastards might have looked sick and ridiculously cumbersome but they could sure as shit put on the speed when they wanted. And you did not want to get caught up in their path once they did.

I dove forward, left hand slamming my knife back into my sheath, fingers snatching for the gun, hearing pops and blasts from other weapons displacing behind me as the settlers tried their darndest to be of some use; bless them. There was little room for error here and if I missed, boy was I gonna pay for it. But if there was one thing that I could pride myself in when it came to combat; my fearless brutality aside, was that I was a damn good shot. For a time after the coup against Vic, the boys had taken to calling me ‘The One-Shot Wonder’; namely because I had fired the first shot in the coup itself and it had been a direct and fatal hit. Most of my hits usually were; not all but most.

What they didn’t realize, I think is the reason as to _why_ my shots very rarely missed and were more often than not instantly fatal. It wasn’t because my aim was particularly good, you understand. But because I was reckless and hotheaded enough to always get way too close to the enemy in a combat situation. It’s hard to miss when you’re just about sitting on their lap, you see.

So I figured that I would take my best big crack at the Yao Guai; given that it was most likely already mounting my ass by that stage. My reflexes were always quick enough; I could probably turn, get its big beetle brow right in my cross hairs and BOOM – blow the sucker away.

I snatched the grip of the Magnum up with my fingertips and then shucked it tightly into my palm, curling my index finger into the trigger nook. I darted my left hand across to thumb down the safety, twisting about with my rear foot and swivelling it around to bring it back behind my right. Turning to face the Yao Guai as I brought the gun up-

-and I’d blown it, big time. My estimation was completely off as to how close the beast was behind me when I turned. I didn’t even have time to flex the nerves in my trigger finger before the bear barrelled into me. Its jaws grazed and missed its mark on my left arm, thank God but the force of its locomotion slammed my midsection so hard that I felt several internal snaps beneath where its shoulder had collected me. I was thrown spectacularly off of my feet and launched backwards over the rocky incline, with all the grace of a drunk being upended into a gutter.

Jesus Lord almighty, I was _way_ too sober to deal with a fall like that. It wasn’t as though the hill was particularly steep but it was punctured by hard peaks of rock and disinterred tree branches and all other manner of sharp, pointy, unpleasant things. I went into an unintentional backwards roll as well, which was fucking brutal because it in fact sped my descent up and snapped my neck and spine around all over the place. One particularly unforgiving shard of rock found itself in just the right position to jam up into the centre of my spine. The pain was so bad, I felt vomit rise to the back of my throat. Of course, that might have had more to do with the spinning than anything else.

“God-damn-stupid-bear!!” I screamed as I continued rolling down and down. I was able to twist myself at some point so that I could roll sideways, which allowed me to use one of my arms to give myself a bit of extra cushioning. The other I had to try and keep extended, to control the gun so that it didn’t accidentally go off and blow my own face apart. I could see the bear coming after me down the hill, persistent in its vendetta to pursue and tear me apart. I could see it getting closer with each roll and I feared it might catch up to me before I reached the bottom.

Sure enough, as the slope evened out and my rolling ceased, I felt a great, sickening crunch as the bear sunk its jaw around my upper thigh. I was pretty sure one of its smaller teeth had pierced the skin but I think I had lucked out and been spared the artery splitting wrath of its large canines.

“You bastard – _let go of me_!!” I yelled, raising the gun and smashing the bear hard on top of the head with it. First instinct; stupidly enough. Came from having a bad temper, just like my dear old mother. I kicked out with my other foot as the bear gave me a good shake, whipping me back and forth across the ground; which really only served to rub my ass raw. I smacked it on the nose with the gun, earning a pained yelp in response. “Get the fuck out of it, ya big ugly brute!!”

The bear wasn’t paying the least attention to my demands, so I reasoned that I had little choice but to risk discharging the gun this close to my own face. People who have no clue about guns would probably get on my case about not shooting the bear sooner but injury caused by ricochet and bullet or bone shrapnel was a very real concern and could potentially lead to death. It was natural to wanna put as much space between you and the thing that you were shooting as possible. Same as with shooting locks; never as easy or as safe as some folks like to think.

In this situation though, I could see I didn’t really have much of a choice. I was getting injured either way and a shrapnel wound didn’t exactly compare to having my leg torn off at the thigh. Though I might be able to then get that sexy peg-leg look to dress up my little pirate theme. Not sure that losing a limb was gonna land me in popular favour with the ladies; given the fact that I already looked as though I’d taken a swim in an acid bath and been dried out with an industrial cheese grater.

I waited until the bear twisted at such an angle that its left temple was facing towards me. It had lifted the lower half of my body off of the ground in order to do so, but I bit back the pain as best I could; knowing that if I didn’t keep it together, I was only going to go apart.

The angle was good; the bullet would exit and travel away from me, into the side of the incline most likely. A hand cannon was not the best firearm to discharge at short distance however and I knew that I was likely to land myself in a right proper mess. Nothing doing, however. This was one of those darling situations most often referred to as ‘either him or me’.

“So long, big guy.” I said, lining up the barrel of the gun and then turning my head and shutting my eyes tight, the same instant I pulled the trigger. My arm recoiled violently, my shoulder slamming back into the ground from the force of the blast. Jesus, the fucking thing packed a punch. I felt the result of my actions splash hot and wet against the sides of my face and coat the front of my body. The pressure around my thigh eased and my lower body came crashing back to the ground; jarring my sciatic nerve and sending referred pain glancing down my hip and into my left leg.

I took a moment to collect myself, pushing my lips out very slowly and carefully so that I could spit away the blood and god knows what else had landed against my mouth. I used my sleeve to wipe over the top of my face, cleaning the muck away from my eyes and then allowed myself to see whether or not the bear needed to be put out of its misery.

It looked as though I had gotten it right the first time; the bear was very much dead, with a big bloody scoop taking up what had once been the left hand side of its face. The ear had been completely shaved away, along with the eye and the skull had been split open, leaving for inspection what remained of the poor buggers’ brains. Some of which I’m sure was now plastered firmly to me.

I breathed out a sigh as I leant forward, placing the gun aside temporarily so that I could use both hands to ease the bears jaws apart. Sure enough, one of the bastards’ smaller teeth had penetrated my thigh and had left behind an oozing puncture mark. I winced, sucking in a breath as I dropped the bears head aside and placed my palm down against the wound. It wasn’t as deep as I thought and it hadn’t hit the artery thank god. Nor had I been hit with any shrapnel from discharging the firearm into the bears head. All and all, could have been a lot worse.

I took a moment to assess my injuries; couple of caved ribs, most likely hairline fractures. A bruised and bloodied back from having bounced and rolled down the hill the way I did. One thigh mauled and bleeding.

I checked the back of my head. I had lost my hat on the roll down the hill but that was to be expected when you were getting hurled about like a doll in the arms of a tantrum throwing toddler. My skull seemed to have survived intact though; nothing to be felt but the ragged, raised scar from where I had been stitched up after those kids had brained me in Diamond City, less than a month ago.

I took a moment longer to catch my breath, rolling back and clutching at my ribs, which ached and throbbed. I felt a bit sorry for the poor old bear as well; I genuinely disliked killing animals. They were simply doing as nature dictated, whereas human beings always had a choice and therefore had it coming to them if they came after me first. Although this bear might have possibly killed Eve, so my sympathies were limited to say the least.

Oh God… Eve…

“Hey!” I heard Deacon yell from the top of the incline and I rolled my head back so that I could bring him into my line of sight. I could just make out his arms windmilling manically; backlight from the lights of one of the buildings. “You all right down there, Chief? Bear hasn’t eaten you yet?”

Cait snorted from somewhere just behind him. “Eaten him? Most likely would just spit him out once he got a good enough taste.”

I sighed to myself and rolled my eyes back in my skull. “The empathy from my ‘so-called friends’ is overwhelming.” I murmured, groaning as I pulled myself back onto my ass. I pressed one hand tight to the wound on my thigh and sanctioned my other arm around my middle; all too aware now of the reasons that I had these injuries and felt a flush of panic fuelled to even greater heights by the adrenaline rushing through me still. “Shit… Eve…”

I put the pain off to the side as much as I could, snatching up Eve’s gun and taking a few deep breaths to steel myself, before pushing my aching body back up the hill. I snatched up my hat on the way, which was perched precariously against the side of one of the rocks I must have rolled over and I shoved it back onto my head before returning that hand to my bleeding thigh. Deacon to his credit, came shuffling down the hill sideways, reaching out to give me a hand up. I pushed the gun back into his palm instead and grabbed a hold of his inside elbow, which gave me enough leverage to clear the crest. Jesus, I was hurting bad. Everything ached and I wondered if I had torn a few muscles here and there; especially around my knees, which felt to have twisted badly when the bear struck me.

I gave Deacon a look as he took the gun and quickly checked it over. “You couldn’t have just… fired a shot off yourself? Had to throw it to me instead?”

He shrugged differentially as he followed me back over towards the collapsed outhouse. “Thought you might have wanted the EXP.”

Cait shot him a bizarre look over my shoulder as I passed her. “What _are_ you talking about?”

“Hey, that’s for me and the fourth wall to know.”

I ignored them, for it was all I could do to keep myself standing and moving forward. I thought that if I were to lift away the concrete and iron cladding to find Eve crushed and dead beneath it, that I would quite literally die on the spot myself. It had been the first time, in a truly long time that I felt a pain go through me, so intensely crippling that it easily outweighed any of the physical injuries which currently besieged me. The fear of finding her dead, of what it would mean, what I would lose, what we would _all_ lose.

It looked as though Cait and a few of the other settlers had started to shift the debris out of the way, but had been distracted somewhat by my fight with the Yao Guai. They had returned to it since, though they weren’t moving nearly fast enough for my tastes.

“Well that’s a pain in the ass…” One of them murmured, with all the care and concern of someone who might have dropped a bag of groceries on the doorstep. “Do you think anyone was in there at the time?”

One of the others, a hard faced looking woman shot him a humorous smile and chuckled. “If there was, all that’s probably left of them is now jam between the Yao Guai’s toes.”

I pushed past them, glaring through narrowed eyes and out past an angry thumping heart. Of course it meant nothing to them; they could laugh, because they assumed that nobody _had_ been inside at the time. But if Eve hadn’t been in there, she would have been here by now, that much was for certain. She never turned her back on things like this, especially not if her friends were involved. She had to be inside… and the implication that she had been crushed, turned to _jam_ … My temper flared.

“You might wanna think about shutting your damn mouths, assholes.” I snapped, leaning down and grabbing the largest piece of corrugated iron I could put my hands to and pulling it towards me. Deacon and Cait immediately swooped in to help, whilst the rest of the settlers just continued to stare at me; taking the time to bother with looking offended. Fuck ‘em. “Eve? Eve, if you can hear me… call out, okay?”

I had started to prepare myself for the inevitable that no one would respond, so it came as almost a surprise when I heard a familiar voice; somewhat alarmed but clear as a bell, call out from somewhere beneath the mess.

“Hancock? Please tell me there’s no one else out there right now!”

My whole body dropped with tangible relief, the fear and terror leaving my chest like a perceptible presence. I could have collapsed then and there, burst into tears. She was _alive_. Somehow… And she didn’t sound hurt, which was another minor miracle in and of itself.

“ _Thank God…”_ I whispered, shutting my eyes for just a moment; weak with relief. Then I returned to business at hand, raising my voice so that she could hear me through the collapsed structure. “ Just me and a um… small… _ish_ , crowd.”

She made an angry sounding grunt, louder now that it wasn’t muffled by the piece of debris we were lifting, which I could see had been one of the outhouse walls. “Oh for fucks sake, that would have to be right, wouldn’t it?” There was a scrambling, sliding noise then and Eve shrieked loudly, with what sounded to be genuine fear. “No, actually I don’t give a fuck who’s there, _please just get me out of here_!!”

“Doin’ that right now, darlin’.” I replied, relieved to see that some of the settlers had finally conceded to lending a hand. I think they might have realized now just why I had been so pissed off and were now trying to make amends. “Are you hurt?”

“Only my pride… for what that’s worth.”

“Kinda find that hard to believe…” Deacon said, lifting aside a concrete sleeper, which must have been used to reinforce some of the wall foundations and tossing it off to the side. “After all, a Yao Guai just kind of crushed an entire stall on top of you.”

Eve gave a long, lingering moan of disquiet. “Oh for Christ’s sake of _course_ Deacon has to be here too… Look, the beastie hit the side of the stall first before it climbed up on top of it. When I saw the wall caving in, I panicked and slipped backwards… my knees are a bit wedged at the moment but… well, I’m sure you can see for yourself in a minute or two.”

Her meaning became emphatically clear, when we finally cleared away the last bit of the debris. She had been buried out of sight by the doorway of the outhouse and as we lifted this off of her, she came into sight for the first time.

Cait immediately succumbed to laughter, slapping her hand over her mouth as she stared at Eve’s predicament. “Oh my God… no fucking _way_ …”

Eve had slipped backwards into the long drop, so far in fact that only her head, lower legs and hands could be seen. Her puppy slippers were pointed almost vertically into the air above her face and she was holding on for grim life to either side of the long drop hole; her fingers shaking and trembling as they gripped tight to the wood. So far as I could tell she was still wearing her long johns so I assumed that she must have simply adjusted the bum flap in order to use the toilet. Her eyes, peering out from between the space of her legs, were cranked open so wide that she looked like an alarmed animal on the receiving end of the butchers’ knife.

I tried not to smile and failed miserably. To hide the fact that I was amused by her situation, I placed a hand over my face, so that she couldn’t see my smirk.

“Well, I’d say that’s a pickle and a half that is, Munch.”

Deacon didn’t bother with trying to be subtle and instead burst out laughing, forced to stagger off to the side so that he could collapse against one of the nearby benches; his legs no longer having strength sufficient to support him.

I could see Eve’s mouth twist into an unhappy little snarl from the tiny part of her face that was still visible through the lavatory hole.

“Oh God, just fucking kill me.”

The helpless melodramatic tone of her voice only made it funnier unfortunately and I had to look away for a moment so that she couldn’t see me succumb to laughter. If I could, I would have collapsed beside Deacon on the bench and laughed until my sides split but I had already been terrible enough to Eve tonight. Resist… just resist…

“Why the hell did they even _make_ the hole big enough for you to slip that far in?” Cait wondered out loud, reaching forward only to wriggle one of Eve’s slippered feet. “What is there some settler here with an enormous arse that everyone else has gotta make concessions for?”

Eve’s face took on an expression of true panic and her voice pitched even higher, until it took on a nuance not unlike that of a eunuch. “I really don’t know, all I know is that if someone doesn’t help me soon, my life is _not_ going to be worth living!”

In spite of how funny it looked, I can only imagine how horrible it actually felt to be stuck in her position. Eve was terribly claustrophobic and being trapped in that confining angle, with her legs crushed up right into the air and spine bent tight into a U, she would be panicking to try and get some leverage. Not to mention that if she actually lost her grip and slipped in, well… I’m sure there are worse ways to go but I can’t think of many.

I stepped forward, flicking my fingers at Cait to indicate that she move aside. “It’s okay Munch, I’ll get ya outta there.”

Eve gave a brief, embarrassed flash of a smile; trying still to make light of the situation. “Only consolation is at least I happened to be sitting on the toilet when the Yao Guai smashed the side of it. Saved me the trouble of wetting my pants.”

I chuckled a little as I stepped up to the side of the long drop. It was a good point to clarify first, so I asked, “So that’s all you were doing out here? Nothing else that you might need for me to uh… hand you some paper for first?”

She sighed, her face very red from where it was jammed in just against the slightly crooked edge of the long drop. From this angle I couldn’t see anything; her backside had slipped down into the interior of the bowl but I think she was concerned about what might happen when I started pulling her up.

“What could I possibly do with a piece of paper while I’m jammed in like _this_ , Hancock? Anyway, it’s nothing _that_ exciting.” She mumbled, flicking her eyes off to the side and pursing her lips so that she looked truly shy and kind of adorable in her awkwardness. “I was only down here to… you know… do a wee. And take care of some… female stuff.”

Female stuff… ah, that meant the old time of the month maintenance, I assumed. It might have made more sense for me to have called Cait over but I didn’t think that Eve would appreciate me yelling this shit out to all and sundry, so I lowered my voice and leaned in a little closer instead.

“Do you… uh… need me to… get you anything in regards to that or…?”

She chuckled a little at _my_ discomfort now and managed the smallest shake of her head. “Nah… took care of it already, darl. Just uh… be careful when you help me up, okay? I mean… well, it’s only a tampon so you won’t… there won’t be- So long as you don’t accidentally tug on the string-”

Oh God, this was getting weird now. I waved a hand, cutting her babbling off quick smart and flashed her an amused smile, thankful she couldn’t tell when _I_ was blushing, because I felt damn near embarrassed enough to poach my eyeballs out of my skull. “Okay, okay, Jesus Munch, I get it. I won’t go tugging on any strings, all right? Now, don’t worry. I’ll have ya outta there in a jiffy.” I moved closer and adjusted her lower legs, so that her feet hooked under my arms. It felt ironically similar to what I had done with Belinda earlier that night. “Now, as I move ya, just start sliding them around me, yeah? Hook your ankles together over the back and that’ll stop you from slipping.”

She gave a little nod and bit her lower lip. “Okay just… hurry, yeah? My hands are starting to cramp and the woods cutting into the back of my neck.”

“It’s all right, darlin’. I won’t let ya fall.” I whispered, leaning forward and sliding my hands down into the hole, on either side of her body. I reached as far down as I was able, cupping my palms firmly around her lower back. “Put your arms around my neck now.”

“If I move my hands, I’m afraid I’ll slip…” She whimpered and I could have melted for how vulnerable she sounded in just that moment. Nothing like the fear of falling into sewerage to break down someone’s defences.

I lowered my face towards hers and gave what I hope was a reassuring smile, quirking my brows at her as I did. “You ain’t gonna slip, I gotcha nice and tight now.” I gave her a little jostle with my hands, just so she could feel how secure my grip was. “You can trust me.”

She gave a nervous little laugh. “I hope so. Because drowning in a big pile of other people’s poo is not the way that I wanna be remembered, John.”

She took a long, laboured breath and then very slowly eased one hand up off of the wooden seat and slid it around my neck. She did the other one more quickly and gasped as she felt her weight fully drop into my waiting palms. But just as I promised, I didn’t drop her. She grasped me tightly, her big eyes bulging as she stared up at me from the circle of the bowl.

“Good girl.” I said softly, not meaning to condescend to her but the words just came so naturally. “See? Didn’t let ya fall, now did I?” I readjusted my hands to try and lift her but finding that the angle was hard, shifted them down a little. “Sorry about this, but I might need to get you under the ass for the moment…”

Eve’s eyes popped just that little further from her skull. “But the flap on my long johns is undone!”

I sighed, wondering how she could still be so alarmed by things like this, given everything that we had gone through together already. Not to mention that she’d had a baby before, which surely meant that a whole bunch of people she barely knew had been staring down the line of her enflamed cooch. God forbid that a good friend she had known for almost a year accidentally touched her on the butt. “Oh heavens to betsy, a bare bottom! Whatever in the name of God shall we do now?” I chuckled a little, rolling my eyes at her. “If you recall, it won’t be the first time I’ve actually touched your ass, Munch. And it’s got to be preferable to being dropped into a pit full of shit, yeah?”

She seemed to acknowledge the merit of this and nodded, though her cheeks were still very pink. “Okay… just, try not to look.”

“I’ll do my best to contain myself.” I muttered, smiling as I reached my right hand down a bit further, sliding my palm along until I could feel the hanging flap of the long johns. I swooped my hand under it and then brought it up, so that it created a barrier between my skin and her rump. “There. Integrity maintained, your majesty. Now, bring your arms around me tighter as I lift you.”

“Yep, okay…”

I did my utmost to maintain my professionalism in this situation but of course it would have been a lie if I said that I hadn’t enjoyed it in some measure. Having Eve put her arms around me was always a treat but having the excuse to actually touch her ass… yeah, it wasn’t very classy of me but I was smitten with her, so the flush of desire was quite natural I would think.

And it felt so different to Belinda’s; bigger, rounder… so full and soft. Like a plump, ripe piece of fruit. I had to resist the urge to squeeze, wishing I could get both hands around that sweet ass and pull her up, hard and tight against me; gripping and mauling as I kissed her.

But I didn’t, of course. What I did do, was get one hand into her lower back, balance her weight and then step backwards, lifting as I went. I carefully and slowly eased her up out of the hole in the long drop, being careful to move her neck in such a way that it didn’t scrape the wood. She clung to me ever more tightly, whale eyes protruding as she pulled herself up and closer to me in the same gesture, until her arms were entirely hooked around my neck and her chin rested up atop my shoulder; our cheeks touching together. She had hooked her ankles firmly around my lower back and as I had lifted her up, they had dropped down now to curl around my waist and I held her, much the way that parent might nurse a kid when they were upset and needed reassurance.

Once I had her up and free from the long drop completely, I used the hand that I had on her ass to quickly hook the butt flap of her long Johns back into place. She continued clinging to me tightly, kind of like that Australian animal I had seen in an old book once… a _koala_ , I think it was called. The way that they wrapped their arms around a tree trunk reminded me so much now of how Eve adhered to me. And I can’t say I minded in the slightest.

“There you are, Munch. Right as rain.” I said, patting her on the backside soothingly as I stepped back and away from the toilet.

Eve sighed gratefully and let out a huge whoosh of air in relief. “Ooooh damn…. _Thankyou_ , Hancock. That was about the scariest thing I think I’ve _ever_ been through in the Commonwealth.”

I chuckled lightly as I swayed her from side to side, just as I might have done if I was soothing the doldrums of a young child. “Aww, did poor Munch nearly fall in the shitter? There, there, poor Munch.” I gave her a few particularly over the top swishes and she finally laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, all right. Make a big joke out of it. Bet you wouldn’t be acting all cool if _you_ nearly fell in the toilet.” She grumbled, smiling even as she slapped me on the shoulder. She didn’t seem aware that some of the settlers gathered around us were watching with soppy ‘Aww’ type expressions on their faces. “And um… yeah… thanks for fixing my bottom flap…”

I smirked as I leaned close to return the whisper to her ear. “Got your back sister. Or your… backside, if you prefer.”

I felt a tap on my shoulder and glanced back to see Cait giving me a knowing look. She swished her head towards Deacon and said, “Why don’t we give you guys a moment to sort ya stuff out? Come on ya big lug.” She whipped her foot forward and smacked Deacon in the side, hard enough to rouse him off of the bench but not leave any lasting damage.

Deacon, still laughing and wiping tears from his face, managed finally to drag himself up, though his smile hadn’t fallen so much as an inch. “I’m sorry…” He took his glasses off and used the bridge of his fingers to wipe across his damp eyes. “But that was like… _the_ funniest thing I have _ever_ seen. Bar none, Boss.”

Eve flashed him a particularly grumpy look. “Yeah, well not from where I was sitting, it wasn’t Deacon!” She shook her head, annoyed and then glanced towards me, noticing for the first time it seemed that my face and attire were streaked with blood. Her already big eyes widened further. “Oh my God… are you okay?! Did the Yao Guai hurt you?”

I’d been solely focused on Eve until that point and all but forgotten that I _had_ been hurting and pretty badly at that. I didn’t have a chance to reply because Eve immediately struggled out of my hold, bringing her feet back to the ground and then standing before me, glancing up and down and all along my body. It didn’t take her long to pick out the bleeding wound on my thigh; my trouser leg was shredded and drenched on account of it and she gasped, genuinely upset as she knelt and brought both palms to my injury.

“Shit… it looks sore as hell. Oh, you dopey bastard.” She muttered, not without affection. She looked back over her shoulder at Cait. “Cait, honey? Could you please bring some medical supplies down from the shack?”

“Sure thing, love. What ya needing exactly?”

“Stimpak… Med-X… bandages if he took a knock, which I’m assuming knowing Hancock, he _did_.” She glanced up at me, almost scolding and I shrugged; like a child caught out in doing something he knew he shouldn’t be doing. “Fresh change of clothes too… shirt and slacks. Quick as you can, please darling.”

Cait nodded and she and Deacon quickly scooted their way back towards the shack to collect the items she had requested. Eve immediately set to fussing, as she always did, leading me over to a nearby bench and gesturing for me to sit.

“Just rest for a minute…” She said, ruffling her fingers through her hair, looking far too worried as always. Her big eyes were shiny. “Did, um… did someone manage to rouse off the Yao Guai?”

I nodded, easing myself down onto the bench, cradling my ribs as I went. “Yeah, I shot it. Big bugger won’t be knocking over any toilet stalls again.”

She sighed, looking sad in spite of how much damage the beastie had done. “Poor thing. Probably has no idea what it ever did wrong.” She pushed the thought aside and knelt in front of me, rubbing one palm over the curve of my knee. The sweet thing. “How bad are you hurt? Be honest.”

I smiled and gave a wink. “Never anything but honest, darlin’. Took a bit of a rough and tumble down the hill, mighta pinched a rib or two. Nothing major.”

There was little point with trying to butter Eve up or ease her concerns because she was too clever to let herself be fooled by it. I could tell that she hadn’t been convinced by my statement, because she pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side; frowning with an expression that clearly said she had no patience for me attempting to mislead her.

“If it was that hill behind us, then you’ve hurt yourself pretty bad, I would think. Fucking thing’s riddled with rocks.” She muttered, standing up now and leaning towards me so that she could reach over and run her hand down my back. The smooth column of her throat was pressed almost directly up against my face and I had to forcibly fight back the urge to close the distance between us and press my lips to her skin. The rush of pain that leapt from her point of contact against my back made it easier to be distracted from the impulse. “It’s hurting, huh? You poor thing…” She eased back around and then pressed her fingertips lightly against my chest and midsection. “Do you think you might have broken any?”

I shrugged carelessly. “Not much doing for it if I did. Just have to strap them later.”

“I’ll help you with that when Cait gets back with the bandages. In the meantime, let’s get you over to the showers. You need to wash that muck off of yourself, get everything as clean as possible. I’ll run back and grab a towel for you.”

“Eve, really… it ain’t as bad as all tha-” But of course she wasn’t listening to a word I had to say on the matter and I had little choice but to let myself be assisted up from the bench and all but dragged towards the shower stall. When Eve had it in her head to help someone, she was almost impossible to redirect. Stubborn as always.

The shower block was located nearby and constructed from sheets of corrugated iron and gray cinderblocks. It was divided into a male and female section and segregated further into separate stalls, each with a flimsy curtain to provide some privacy to people using it. The Yao Guai mustn’t have come through this way, because the block looked entirely untouched, which was a heck of a relief. Nothing like being stranded without proper hygienic measures.

I got Eve to hold up for a moment, taking a breather whilst leaning against the concrete wall of the shower block and flexing my aching, stinging leg. Eve took the opportunity to adjust her apparently misaligned underthings through the little gaps of the long johns butt flap. I noticed that she herself had been limping a little on our way over to the block and gestured towards her with my hand.

“You sure you’re not hurt anywhere?”

She sighed a little, glancing down towards her shins. “My legs got a little scraped by the stall coming down on me but not much worse than that.”

“Want me to take a look?”

She pulled a face and flicked her head dismissively. “No, honey. You’re hurt worse than me.”

“Won’t take long to deal with then.” I said and snapped my fingers towards a pile of firewood resting nearby, placed in easy use for settlers needing to restock fires or stoves. Eve made a half-hearted attempt to protest but I snapped my fingers once again, warning her off from even starting and she surrendered, trotting over to perch on the securest pile she could find. See; I could be stubborn too, when it suited me.

I went to kneel in front of her, then thought better of it on account of my injury and plonked down on my ass instead. Eve extended her left leg and I rolled up the long Johns on first this and then the other shin. The right leg looked as though it had caught a fair whack when the wall of the outhouse had fallen on top of her and the skin had a deep gouge in it and a few scrapes, all leaking blood. The skin on the back of her left ankle was also scraped and bleeding; some of the skin scoured white from where it had been peeled back from the top layer of flesh. Nothing particularly bad but it sure as shit looked like it would be stinging.

“Just need a bit of a clean and bandage.” I said, cupping my hand under her left heel and lifting it gently so I could take a better look at the injury to her ankle. She had such petite feet; completely at odds with how clumsy and heavy footed she was most of the time. “I’ll wash ‘em now.”

“ _You’re_ the one who needs to be getting in the shower, not sitting here worrying about me!” Eve snapped, trying to look stern but failing as usual. I was already halfway over to the water pump by the time she had finished talking and I heard her simply heft a sigh then, acknowledging that I wasn’t one to be redirected once I had decided to do something. I guess we were both a bit alike that way.

There was a small bucket nearby that I think was used to transport water to the animal troughs in the nearby enclosure. I filled this with a few good sloughs from the pump, testing it with my fingers as I brought it back over to Eve’s side. It was icy, cold from the deep internment within the earth but there wasn’t much doing for that. She’d just have to grit her teeth and bear it.

Which she did, looking only the slightest bit disconcerted, as I used my hand to cup some of the water and pour it down her shin. I used my hand to wipe the blood away and then gently repeated the action on her tender looking left ankle. I glanced up at her and saw a tremor run through her slightly raised shoulders.

“Sorry,” I said, quirking my lip at her. “It’s cold, I know.”

Eve gave a little shrug and flashed a smile. “No, it’s fine. Thanks. Besides, you know I’m never one to turn my nose up at a leg massage.”

“Nice of you to shave your legs this time.” I joked, holding her steady beneath the calf as I elevated her leg slightly to clean the ankle off. It was true, her legs weren’t nearly so hairy as they had been on other occasions. She often made a joke out of it; saying that she was growing a coat for winter, when in fact the reality is that she simply could not be bothered staying on top of her shaving regime all the time. Which was fair enough; I had been a Smoothskin long enough to remember how annoying it was to shave my face every day. One of the small blessings I had now being a Ghoul, is that I didn’t have a strand of hair anywhere. Something Eve I think was the slightest bit envious about, though I’m quite certain she wouldn’t want to trade in the hair on her head.

She laughed now and gave me a little wink and another smile. “Smooth sailing for you there?”

I ran my hand up and down her right leg, as though considering their current state. Really, I was simply enjoying the chance to touch her; to feel the flex of her muscles beneath her flesh, to admire that golden tan and the way the water beaded upon it. “Only a little prickly.” I said, raising her leg slightly and then running my fingers down the side of it; making a strumming sound as though I were plucking the strings of a guitar. She pulled a face at me and laughed, cocking her head back in the other direction now as she took me in; looking curious.

“So, I guess it’s safe to say you’re not in a shit with me anymore?”

I sighed, knowing that I couldn’t keep ducking away from taking responsibility for my tantrum and lowered her foot back down to the ground.

“Yeah… look… I’m sorry about that.”

As expected, Eve’s face immediately softened and she smiled, shaking her head from side to side. Jesus, it was just as annoying that she could be so forgiving; that she could simply abide people treating her badly, so long as they were decent to her afterwards. It wasn’t enough that she should let this sort of thing go.

“It’s okay.” She said, looking off to the side differentially; that still same accommodating smile on her face. “You don’t have to be sorry…”

 _Oh yes I fucking do,_ I thought and wondered why in the hell I was thinking it when I damn well should have been saying it. I held my hand out to her. “No. It’s not okay. It’s _never_ okay. I acted like a complete fucking tool and you don’t deserve that. Not now, not ever. You’re a wonderful person and you put up with so much and handle a veritable shit fest with more class than anyone I know.”

She gave me a truly astonished look as I finished washing her legs and then pulled her long johns back down into place, before climbing achingly to my feet and looking at her. Making good and certain that she listened to what I was saying.

“Belinda told me what you talked about… that she has feelings for me and that you encouraged her to talk with me about it. I think you were watching out for that girl… and watching out for me too and I was just… too damned childish to see that.” I raised my hands in a useless gesture; a sort of shrug, contoured by lack of commitment. “It’s no excuse… I know you better than that and I shouldn’t have assumed anything about your motivations. I’m sorry for that, I’m… I’m sorry that I made you feel bad. I never wanna make you feel that way, not ever.”

 _And I love you_ , I wanted to say. So desperately that my chest ached for the need of it, greater than the combined pain of all my physical injuries. Because I’m certain that I did then; even more certain that I do now and my soul pulsed liberally with the need to pull her to me, _into_ me and consume her. I wanted her to understand, to know beyond all doubt that there was nothing now that mattered so much to me in the whole world than seeing her happy, safe and content. Which more to the point is precisely _why_ I couldn’t say that I loved her; because that was a cruel thing to put to someone who had so much weight divested on their shoulders. She didn’t need that right now. It would be selfish of me; something I wanted and needed to say to make myself feel better. I had no way of knowing how it would affect Eve but I couldn’t risk burdening her with the knowledge. Not right now.

So I held it in and I’m glad that I did, because the feelings that I had put to her in my apology at that time, were more than enough to sway her, I could see. Her eyes looked heavy and they brimmed for a second as she thought my words over, pursing her lips in tight, taking in some air and then getting hold of herself once more.

“Thank you for that.” She said at long last, nodding and wearing a smile now that felt far more genuine than the one she had offered me only moments earlier. Thick with palpable gratitude. “To be honest I just… I feel lost when I think the two of us might not get along or I’ll say that one thing that makes you turn your back on me forever. I mean _this_ …” She gestured back and forth between us, indicating our earlier ‘not-quite-squabble’, I think. “This wasn’t a big deal but I’ve kinda gotten used to you and I just bumbling along together. I take it for granted and then the idea that you could even for a second just… hate me or-”

“Hey.” I said, reaching down to take her hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “You wanna go banishing that thought right here and now. Ain’t no way I’d ever turn my back on you. And I think you’d have to try really damn hard to get me to hate you and no offense darlin’, but I don’t think you got that kinda starch in you.”

“That’s for damn sure.” She said, giving a self-mocking little chuckle before smiling back up at me. She paused for a moment before speaking, seeming to consider her words first and then went on ahead anyway. “I think and correct me if I’m wrong, that you might have gotten cross with me before because I… hurt you. And I didn’t mean for that to be the case but that’s what makes me so damn mad with myself.” She sighed and bit her lip, looking annoyed. “I’m such a goddamned coward that I end up putting people in horrible situations because I just can’t cop up to reality. I avoid dealing with shit and that just ends up hurting people more.” She gave me another smile and then leaned forward to tap her fist lightly against my bicep. “Anyhow… nothing worth stressing over. I’m just glad to see you’re feeling better for having a bit of fun tonight. Didn’t think I’d see you so soon though! In and out job, huh?”

I smiled and gave a shake of my head, amazed still that she could be so damn light hearted about things like this. “Nah… didn’t happen, Munch.”

Her smile slipped gradually out from the corners of her cheeks and her eye flinched close together, forming an expression of genuine confusion. “What? Why?”

“Felt wrong, is why. Sleeping around is one thing but when there are feelings involved… it gets messy, you know?” I wanted to talk about it more but Cait arrived back then, carrying my shirt and trousers in one hand and Eve’s entire satchel in the other, for some reason. She gave a grunt of annoyance, dropping it to the ground near the woodpile.

“You’re gonna have to sort this shit out yourself babes because I can’t find a goddamn thing in all this mess.” She grumbled, handing me over the clothes which I took and tucked up under my arm with a passing ‘thankyou’ that I wasn’t really feeling. It wasn’t Cait’s fault of course but if she could only have stayed away that little bit longer…

Eve chuckled and clapped her hands together. “Actually, it’s better that you _did_ bring the whole thing down. I was gonna have to pop back up for a towel anyway but now you’re saved me the trouble.” She knelt beside the bag and started searching in it, fluttering a hand at me dismissively first. “You go and get washed up now darl, we’ll finish talking when you get out.” She glanced back up at me and curled her lip in concern. “Do you need a hand getting undressed or do you think you can manage?”

While I might have relished the thought of Eve helping to take my kit off, I wasn’t sure I really wanted her first impression of a naked me to be one linked with blood, injury and helplessness. Never mind that she wasn’t near as drunk as she would probably need to be in order to deal with Ghoul flesh.

“Reckon I can manage. Much as it pains me to pass up having a pretty lady pulling my clothes off,” I said, noting with some delight the little flush that appeared on Eve’s cheeks. “Just pass us on up the towel and some soap and I’ll take that splash, huh?”

“Yeah, you do that.” Eve said, reefing out one of the towels from her satchel and passing it to me with an embarrassed smile. A bar of soap, wrapped in tin foil shortly followed.  “Just be careful in there. If you start feeling faint, call out and I’ll come and grab you. Buck naked or not.” She thought about this and then pointed at me as I turned to hobble into the shower block. “I’ll rephrase that; _only_ call out if you’re feeling faint, I’m not going to come running in there and grab you simply because you wanted company in the shower. I shall be very cross if that’s the case.”

“Damn.” I muttered loudly, which set them both to laughing. I smiled in response, turning to make my way down the alcove towards the Men’s section of the shower block, giving my hips a haughty swish as I went. “Well, piss on you then because you’re the one who’s going to missing out on seeing _this-”_ I raised one hand to press to the wall, striking an over the top ‘sexy’ pose, using the hand still holding the clothes and towel to gesture down the line of my body. “ – ravishing zombie body bathed in a fountain of hot water… all sopping wet, soapy and… slimy.”

“Hey, I never said _I_ wouldn’t run in if you needed help.” Cait said, flashing a wink in my direction. I was fairly convinced that she meant it too. “You just call out if you start drowning, Hancock. Rumour has it that my mouth to mouth gets a lot more than just your heart started, if you catch my meaning?”

“Oh stop it.” Eve growled lightly, giving Cait an admonishing little smack to the side of the leg before fluttering her fingers towards me. “Go on with you now. Get in there and take a shower, you silly old sod.”

I left them to it, shaking my head in amusement a little as I made my way inside. I was relieved to see that I was the only one in there at that time, though not simply because I’m a Ghoul you understand. It was the brand on my lower back that I was self-conscious about. Not that I assumed I was the only person to have been left scarred by the Wranglers; far from it in fact. Countless people were no doubt wandering the Commonwealth right now; wearing their mark, both in body and memory. Which meant enough people knew what that mark meant; knew what had happened to the person that it now belonged to.

Which was bad enough without the inevitable questions; or worse, the pity. I suppose the only consolation is, is that on _my_ body, it wasn’t so easily seen as it would have been on a Smoothskins. When I had taken the Radiation drug all those years ago, part of me had been hoping that the Ghoulification would have rendered the brand completely illegible, but sadly that wasn’t the case. The damn thing was always there; always twinging in bad weather, aching sometimes. Reminding me of other pains, other things that I wanted to forget. Making me crave for my Chems and all those magic little concoctions that kept reality firmly at bay.

So it was a relief to be alone, to not have to worry about keeping my back to the wall; which was probably fairly standard practice when men all showered together to be honest.

I switched the lights on; well, light rather. A single hanging bulb which fluttered grudgingly to life, like a tired old man forced out of his bed and struggling on into his day. Once the room was lit, I set my towel and bed clothes off to the side and unwrapped the bar of soap; placing it in the hanging shower caddy of one of the three stalls. I pulled my boots and socks off, giving the soles of the shoes a few hard smacks against the wooden bench to dislodge the dirt and clay built up on the base of them. They’d probably need to be scraped over later with a knife and then washed, which was a right proper pain in the ass. For now, I just tucked them under the bench, balling up the socks and shoving them in the top of one boot.

I hung my hat from the hook on the wall and started getting undressed. Everything was going to need to be washed and the trousers would need to be repaired. I held them up for inspection, sticking my finger straight through one of the holes that the bears’ teeth had left behind. It was torn and ripped in a number of places, same as the back of my jacket.

So far as the John Hancock outfit went, the coat and waistcoat were one of a kind and couldn’t be mimicked or recreated but the shirt and trousers were fairly simple to reconstruct. Meyer’s wife Meagan had altered the original attire for me way back when, as it was scads too short in the legs and the sleeves. I mean, I wasn’t especially tall myself but _damn_ , John Hancock original must have been a real pipsqueak. I’d need half a tub of oil lathered on my legs to fit into the original pants and then if I somehow managed it, they still would have been more like a long pair of shorts. Not exactly the most awe inspiring of images when staging a coup. Megan had also kindly fashioned an additional pair of pants and a shirt in the same style as the original so that I could swap out garments when required.

Well Meagan wasn’t here now but Codsworth might do me a good turn and stitch up the tears if I asked nicely. Or Eve might take it upon herself as she had already done on a few occasions. Though I didn’t like to ask. The poor girl had lived enough of a domesticated life back in her own time, it seemed unfair to put these sorts of expectations on her anymore. Especially when she had admitted to not especially enjoying being turned into a housewife. But I was no good at sewing myself. Or cooking or… anything domicile really.

I sighed to myself as I tossed my clothes onto the bench, wadding up my boxers and adding them to the pile shortly thereafter. I still found it a little weird to be wearing the damned things because I often hadn’t bothered to back in Goodneighbor. Jesus, maybe I really _did_ have some serious issues with being oppressed if I couldn’t even stand the restriction imposed upon me by a pair of _underpants_. The support was necessary when you were running about in the Wasteland however. Plus, you know, travelling with women folk and all. A guys gotta have some class.

The wound on my thigh was still bleeding and it throbbed like a son of a bitch. Everything ached and my legs twinged with spasms that shot down from my sciatic nerve; jerked raw when I had landed on it earlier. Only got worse as I got older, even in a body that no longer aged at the standard rate. But then that was hereditary; Ma’s back had always been bad too. The hot water would help to ease the muscle ache and calm the inflammation in my lower spine.

I reached into the shower stall and turned both handles to get the water running. I leant my hands against the walls on either side while I waited for it to heat up enough to be comfortable, unintentionally catching a glimpse of myself in a cracked wall mirror on the other side of the room.

Jesus, what bright spark decided to go and put that there? Who the hell wanted to be staring at themselves bare ass in the shower or getting undressed for that matter? Guess there was some practical purpose to it; maybe for the fellas who needed to shave and all that but still _ugh._ What a sight.

 _You didn’t always look this way_ , a nagging little voice in my head said. _You used to look pretty good._ Better _in fact. You used to leave other guys crying in the dust as you swept in and took the girls they wanted right out from under their nose._

Shame Eve never got to see me like that. I might have had a chance in hell if I still looked the way I used to. Even being ten years older wouldn’t have made a huge difference. Not like taking that radiation drug had. At least with my clothes on I looked like something. I was distinguished from others of my kind when I slipped on the red coat, the tricorn hat and tied the flag around my waist.

And it’s not as though my Ghoulification bothered _me_ none. I’d grown to hate the pretentious smarmy little mug that used to stare back at me from the mirror. I wanted to obliterate John McDonough and every stupid, spineless little thing he ever did. Or, failed to do rather.

Never had I imagined that one day I would come to regret sticking that particular needle in my arm. Because with it, I had effectively burned a lot more bridges than I had realized. Slammed a lot more doors of opportunity shut. And barred paths from myself that I might one day desire to travel.

 _Fuck that_ , I thought, cross with myself for allowing that worm of self-pity to wriggle on in and poison my thoughts. _Don’t go dumping that shit on yourself. Eve doesn’t care about none of that. She’s not shallow like so many folks out there. She doesn’t just care about me because she gets to hang out with a Mayor or because I can get her off without barely any effort on her own part. She cares about the guy not the title… I mean, she even cried when I told her all that shit that happened way back when…_

I thought back to that night; my memory hazy but some particular moments ringing through loud and clear amongst the jumble. How she nursed my wounded head, how her lips pressed to the backs of my fingers, her hands stroking my face and chest. And later, tucking the hot water bottle underneath my legs, massaging my aching palms and knuckles, the warmth of her lying close throughout the night.

She had brought me coffee the next morning. Even snuck in a little dollop of scotch, despite knowing what the doc (and Nick) would have said about it. She made a Mirelurk egg for breakfast; still runny, because she knew that I liked to dip my toast in it. There were little strips of fried Brahmin on the side (she had been trying to do a replacement for something called ‘bacon’, which came from an animal in the old days called a pig.) And then she perched cross legged on the end of my sleeping roll, the two of us eating together and chatting about the previous nights’ escapades; formulating various plans of revenge for the idiot guard and the three brats.

I smiled to myself. Hadn’t been Vadim that she had run off to make breakfast for and this was a guy who clearly wasn’t lacking in the looks or confidence department. It was me that she spent her time with; wasted though it might have been on her part. But I think she might have actually enjoyed my company. We were firm friends at the very least and we never strayed far from one another. We kept being drawn back, time and time again by an indiscernible force. Like a rip in the otherwise slowly shifting tides.

I touched the water flowing out of the shower head and adjusted the cold tap to ease the scalding heat, giving it another few moments to regulate before stepping into the concrete stall. I quickly whipped the curtain shut behind me, having no interest in catching my decrepit old body in the adjacent mirror again.

I turned my face up into the spray, closing my eyes against the glancing pressure of the water. The heat immediately engulfed me and I groaned with satisfaction; enjoying the push of the jetting drops against the sore flesh of my cheeks and my forehead. I had to keep puffing air out of my nostrils to prevent the water shooting directly into my sinuses; another minor little inconvenience of having no cartilage to block it all out. But I tolerated this as long as possible; spurting little bursts of water out of my nasal cavity like a big happy Sea Creature.

I used my fingers to scrub around my face, washing away the blood that had leaked into the lines and scars in my skin. When I was convinced that I had cleaned off all of the mess, I bent my head forward so that the water could wash over the back of my skull. It felt even better against the smooth flesh here and I didn’t need to bother with huffing and puffing water everywhere. I leant both hands against the wall for a moment, rolling my head beneath the spray, murmuring at the massaging thud of the water. It was soothing and I was already starting to feel drowsy. I angled my spine so that my forehead pressed to the wall now, bringing my neck, shoulders and upper back beneath the drumming fingers of the water. It stung at first from where my skin had been gouged and scraped in the fall but after a while the sensation eased off and the water felt bloody amazing. It was the closest thing my skin ever got to a massage these days and sometimes I felt so damn crazy for skin to skin contact that it just about drove me up the wall. A good shower proved a useful substitute at times like this.

And of course, provided other outlets as well.

As I took the bar of soap from the caddy and started to rub myself down, my hand lingered on the shaft of my dick. I was still pent up from earlier, still pent up in general after all this time spent on the road with Eve; wanting her but holding back from trying anything on. I was desperate for some form of release and given my earlier decision to stop using other girls as a substitute for sex, I didn’t have many other options but cranking one out when I needed relief. Apart from, you know, not having _any_ form of release at all but given the way that Eve’s ass looked in her jeans most days… If I didn’t get some sorta outlet, I was goin’ up like a fucking Super Mutant suicider.

Wouldn’t have been the first time I’d resorted to such things. I’m a guy after all and it had been a long few months on the road with very little in the way of _anything_ remotely resembling sex.

The shower was a good place to get it done, as well. Private. And at this late at night, not much of a chance of other folks walking in. Not to mention that it was one of my very favourite places to fantasize about getting it on; since most girls weren’t keen to get all wet and naked with a Ghoul. Being able to have all my clothes off, feeling cosy and comforted by the water as I soaped and squeezed the slippery body of the woman interred beneath the spray with me… God damn it would have been a sweet feeling.

Used to feel great; back when I had been a Smoothskin. Didn’t have the least concern with inviting a girl to join me in the shower then but now… What I wouldn’t give to be able to do _that_ again. Jeez, the things you take for granted.

I wondered if Eve might be there with me one day. She didn’t seem particularly concerned about touching my skin; maybe it wouldn’t freak her out all that much to be in a shower with me...

_Yeah, right buddy. Keep telling yourself that._

But I let myself imagine it anyway. The shower curtain whipping aside and Eve standing there, raw as the day she was born; her bronze skin glowing in the light from that single, dim bulb. Those big eyes innocent and questioning from beneath her thick lashes, her tits full and round and beautiful, nipples tight and aching to be sucked on…

_Hold on one freakin’ moment here Casanova; she can’t get into the shower and bang you; she’s got the fucking painters in! Whaddya gonna do, just go ahead and jam her cotton bullet right up into her baby making parts? Christ!_

The thought of this immediately took some of the steam out of my skin. I’d never been one to want to go to bed with a girl when she was on her period. Messy all around and I can’t imagine many women wanted a bloke trying to get all up in their business while their uterus was in the midst of expunging itself.

Well, it wasn’t like I was trying to convince myself that it was going to happen _tonight_ … I imagined instead another shower, some other settlement… a few weeks down the track. Same scenario but this time she wasn’t in the midst of her cycle. I re-conjured the image of her standing there by the shower stall, eyes shyly enquiring. She would hesitate, knowing Eve. She didn’t have the confidence or the brazen attitude to just charge on into the stall and throw me up against the wall. She might have even tried to cover herself with her hands; regretting her impulse for a moment, thinking she was stupid.

 _I’m sorry_ , she would say, bracing one arm across her breasts, mashing them to her chest, whilst her own hand lowered to hide the pretty curls of hair between her legs. _I don’t… I don’t know what I was thinking…_

And that’s when I would step forward and gently take her wrists in both hands and unwrap her from herself. I felt my dick grow stiff as I visualized her breasts coming back into view, the nipples slightly depressed from where her arm had pinned them down. They would spring slowly back into place; rosy maybe or dark, I wasn’t certain. As I took the hand away from her vagina I imagined the shape of it in my mind; the delicate contours of the sloping lips, buried beneath the soft wisps of fur.

I closed my eyes as I leant my head into the corner of the shower stall, bracing one hand against the wall as I used the other to take a firm hold of my thickening shaft. I wanted to rub myself, to tug and stroke and push to the point of release; burned on by the palatable images running across my brain. It wouldn’t have been the first time I had made myself come whilst thinking about Eve. I’d tempered a shitload of my hormones down over the passing months we had spent on the road together; eased only by my private attentions to myself, conducted to the indulgent imaginings of her naked body.

So yes, it wouldn’t have been the first… but that night, it felt… more wrong than usual. I thought of Eve in her oversized long john’s, smiling at me from beside the fire, her big wide eyes staring, anxious, as I pulled her up out of the outhouse toilet. The fear that I had felt as I had thrown myself almost face first down the hill to be by her side, terrified that I was too late, that she might already be dead and gone from my world forever…

The feeling had evolved from those more simplistic impulses for her body to something more… a different sort of hunger, a _greater_ hunger. A desire for her love, rather than her flesh. And to use the image of her to please myself sexually, to alleviate my own desires, felt as terribly wrong as using Belinda as a substitute had been.

Maybe I was being too sensitive in the matter. Perhaps there was really no harm. And in the following months, I hadn’t been so fucking pious as to not bring myself to orgasm a few times with the thoughts of her once more. But it was the frequency and the feeling around this event that had changed forever. I didn’t want to debase her with this crass sexualisation of her person; not if she had no desire for me.

She was too sweet, too ladylike... I couldn’t bear the thought of objectifying this darling woman; not even to satisfy my own longings.

I let out a deep, slow sigh, taking my hand away from myself and bracing both hands against the wall, turning my thoughts to the void. I focused instead on the ache in my leg, the stinging throb in my sciatic nerve and the bruising along my back and shoulders. It helped to cement me back into the real world, to draw me firmly away from the temptation to alleviate my verdant desires.

I lowered my hand down to my thigh, clenching about the wound and groaning at the pain of the torn flesh; the bruising from where the bears’ jaws had come together. It was going to be hard to walk on if I didn’t get a Stimpak into my system soon and the longer I dallied in the shower, letting myself get all hot and bothered, the greater the likelihood that there would be some lasting damage.

I washed away what I could of the blood, though the wound continued to bleed afresh whenever the water failed to touch it. I was clean apart from this, so I twisted the taps of the shower, choking off the flow of water. My erection had withered and slumped back down between my thighs, though my groin still felt a little tight from the lingering flush of arousal.

As the drops of water still adorning my flesh trickled down through the crevices in my weathered skin, I felt awash with a whole other sensation. One I had fought so hard and consistently to escape from my entire life.

Shame.

Eve might have died tonight. I took a moment to face this particular thought head on; to not avoid it as I did so many other painful things in my world that I wanted no part of. I drenched myself in the full weight of it, considering what it might have meant if I had pulled those sheets of iron back to find her crushed beneath; without breath, void of the beat of her heart, of her continued existence.

This woman who absorbed my whole world might have died tonight. And there I was, still tempted to beat one out, in spite of how close I had come to potentially losing her.

I felt overwhelmed suddenly and weak from the dual pressure of shame and fear that dug into my body; deflating my lungs and systematically snapping every tendon that might otherwise have given strength to my limbs. I couldn’t bear the thought of it; the simple notion that she _might_ not be here anymore. That like my father she could disappear from my world and leave it more the empty; could drain the rivulets of happiness which had since flowed steadily into my life.

I pulled myself out from the shower stall, feeling sapped of strength and slightly sick. More than even the blood loss and the fight with the Yao Guai could account for. I dried myself as if from a thousand miles away, distant from the process; in a state of shock.

What would I do if she had died? What would _any_ of us have done? We had followed this woman around the Commonwealth for months on end, supporting her as best we could in her search for her son and somehow changing our own lives along the way. I wasn’t the only one who had been made anew from my time with Eve; the others clearly valued and cared for her in their own way too. If she died now, the current that had carried us all forward, this amazing journey we had all taken together would come to a halt, turn to foam upon the lip of the shore. And a scream would rise up in my soul that I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to silence.

I would have to keep going… me… _all_ of us. Find the Institute, rescue her son for her sake and bring him into this world where he would be alone, sustained by the stories of his mothers’ brave and unerring battle to save him. The fight which had taken her life, long before she ever alighted to his side and had the chance to hold him in her arms…

I lowered the towel from around my shoulders, slung it around my hips and tucked in the corners to keep it snug about my lower body. I managed this much before I needed to sit; needed to bring my cupped fists up to my face, press them to my forehead and simply try to remember how to breathe again. My hands were trembling and I could only remember them having done so once in recent memory; the night of the coup.

The fear of so many things. Overwhelming and confounding and inescapable. Crushing. All of Goodneighbor’s eyes on me; their hopes, their expectations, all hanging on a spiders thread clutched in my quaking fist. The feelings I tried so hard to escape from. To keep from getting close and undermining every ounce of control I had since convinced myself I had.

Who would try and take Shaun if Eve died? Nick, probably. Or Piper, I guess. They would argue that their situation provided the most stability for a young boy. Diamond City was safe and well-guarded; with the school there and had every other opportunity aside. It was a point I couldn’t debate but I knew now without a doubt that I would fight tooth and claw and rusty nail to keep Eve’s child with me. I wanted to take every single ounce of responsibility that came with caring for that boy, whatever sacrifices it meant on my part. I would do that for her, so that she could rest easy. And selfishly perhaps, so that some small part of her would always be with me. In his eyes, his skin or his voice, I don’t know. But there. To soothe the grief and to keep it fresh, so that I would always and forever keep myself trying that little bit harder to square my shoulders to the world and make things the better.

“Hee~eeey? Any sexy Ghouls in there might wanna make sure they’re decent because there’s a sorta lady about to crash the party!”

I snapped my head up out of my hands as Eve’s voice drifted up over the wall of the adjacent passage, echoing slightly in the space of the concrete structure. I might have replied with a cheeky comment any other time but there was a lump in my throat that I only really became aware of when I actually thought about speaking. So I didn’t say anything; just sat there, choking back the restriction that consisted of little more than raw emotion and watched with eyes that were blurred in the edges as Eve appeared around the corner, holding a glass of something in each hand, with one arm braced across her eyes. A hessian carry bag dangled from the elbow of her raised arm, swaying slightly with the motions of her body.

“Okaaa~aaay I’m not looking… just in case you get it in your smart mind to try and flash something horrible and wiggly at me. Which you might want to reconsider, otherwise your liquid medicine is gonna end up all over the floor. … Or I’ll drink it myself and make you watch, one way or the other.”

From the time that we’re children we’re constantly taught to try and reign in our impulses. That we need to think before we act. I had always been the type of guy that went with my gut; who relied on a primal intangible feeling to make my decisions. It rarely served me wrong. In spite of this, I had spent a hell of a lot of time with Eve holding myself back, respecting her feelings, her space, her grief; restricting myself out of fear of the consequences.

None of that existed there in that moment. Like a child I felt what it was that I wanted to do. What I desperately felt I _needed_ to do and I went with it. As I rose up off of the bench, nothing held sway in my mind; not my sickening flesh, her dead husband or the fact that I was pretty much naked except for a rather flimsy, threadbare towel. Emotion gushed up in me at the sight of her; so powerful and unexpected that it surged me forward. I was powerless against its force, unable to do anything but ride the swell of it.

She let out a little gasp of surprise as my arms wrapped about her body, pulling her tight to the wall of my chest. I cradled the back of her head in one hand, pressing the side of my face against her hair; needing to feel that she was real and solid and here with me. She smelt like the smoke of the campfire. Her body, tense at first eased slowly down as she let out her breath. Mine followed shortly thereafter; scraped and battered raw by that persistent little lump of emotion caught in my throat.

“John…? Honey are you…?”

“I’m sorry…” I whispered, clutching the back of her hair tighter; squeezing her shoulders as much as I could without hurting her. I could feel the warmth of her body through the fabric of her long johns; this thin material the only barrier between our naked skin. “I was such an asshole to you tonight… you could have died… and that… all that shit I said…” I pressed my lips down onto the top of her head before I had the sense to stop myself; the scent of smoky pine drifting up from the soft waves of her hair. “When I saw that stall I thought… I thought we’d lost you. And all that bullshit I dumped on you... it would have been the last thing I ever said to you.”

Eve was still holding a tumbler in either hand but she somehow managed to bring her arms around my shoulders. The cold glass sent a shiver down through my still heated flesh but I didn’t react to it; still entirely absorbed with the feel of the woman in my arms.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to worry about any of that.” Eve said, her voice soft from just above my shoulder. Her chin rested there now, in the little crook formed by the collar bone. “It was just a stupid little tiff… And it wasn’t like I came close to dying or anything... I only fell into a toilet for god’s sake.”

“It could’ve been a hell of a lot worse than that.” I insisted, rubbing my fingers against her shoulder, whilst my other hand trailed through the tresses of her hair. I pressed my face down into the soft waves, bringing my eyes shut and taking in the scent of her. “And I… I just want you to know that… if anything ever _did_ happen to you… I wouldn’t stop. I’d get your boy out of there.”

She was very still in my hold then, her muscles pulling rigid until I thought she might have gone and passed out on her feet but then her own arms tightened across my back and a tremor raced through her body.

“Yeah?” She said, her voice crackly as she took a sharp breath in through her nose.

I rubbed my fingers down from her shoulder and over the rise of her back. “I’ll take care of him, Munch. Every little thing he needs, _whatever_ he needs. I’d keep caps in his pocket and food under his nose. Make sure he got to school, got educated. Stays clear of all that bad stuff that messed my own life up. Put a roof over his head, whatever. He can live in Diamond City with Piper or Nick if it makes ya feel better, that’s okay, I don’t care about none of that. But I’ll always keep watch over him. I’ll make good and certain he never wants for nothing, not for a _second_.”

“You promise?” She whispered and I heard in her voice the fear she had for so long left unspoken, perhaps even unacknowledged. Of what might happen to Shaun if she _should_ fail, if she was killed or succumbed to injury or sickness. In this dangerous, unforgiving world she had so far beaten the odds and managed to survive and I don’t suppose that she had even allowed herself to believe for a second that she might not make it. So she had never had the conversation with any of us; at least, she hadn’t with me. Perhaps one of the others, which would have been a little hurtful to be honest but at least she now knew for certain that she had my support with this too. And if that could take even one small ounce of weight off of her encumbered shoulders, it was bloody well worth it.

“I promise.” I said back, using the same words so that she knew I meant what I had said. Her body relaxed almost instantly, as if I had in fact just removed a great, heavy load from her back and tossed it onto the ground. It must have been a relief to know that whatever might come next, that her son would be taken care of, regardless of whether she was there to provide for him or not.

“Thankyou John…” She murmured into the side of my neck and she sniffed again, pressing her face briefly into my shoulder. I could feel that her eyes were wet and she must have been embarrassed by this fact alone, because she laughed. “God, I’m sorry… I’m such a bloody weepy old thing. You must get so fed up with me.”

“Of course not.” I said, smiling as I petted the crown of her head, hoping it might provide some comfort. It seemed strange to me that she should be the one apologizing when I was the one who had behaved like a goddamned fool.

I felt a cold flush jump into my skin then as the reality of what I had done swiftly stole across the room and lodged itself firmly into my brain. An admonishing little voice started lashing the strobes of my mind, screaming an unforgiving chorus of _‘Idiot, idiot, IDIOT!!’._ My common sense followed suit, scrambling to highlight everything that was horribly wrong with this situation. For god’s sake, I had just swarmed the poor girl without any warning, practically blubbered all over her like a pathetic nitwit and all whilst wearing a thin towel that the light might have pierced through on a sunny day.

I let go of her quickly, acutely aware of my being undressed and draped all over her and hoping to god that I hadn’t disgusted her with how brazen I had been. It was a heck of a walk back over to the bench where my clothes were as well, so it wasn’t like there was anywhere to hide either. Jesus, I _was_ a fucking idiot.

“Oh… shit… well, uh…” I dithered, taking a step away and turning sideways as much as I could, hoping that my arm could obscure most of my chest; which was the more confronting view. I chuckled awkwardly because I honestly couldn’t think of what else I could do and put my hands on my hips, staring down at the floor. “Jesus… sorry about that, Munch. I shouldn’t have all up and grabbed you like that… Surprised you managed to keep your dinner down.”

“Oh don’t be silly.” She said, smiling as she handed over the smaller and fatter of the two glasses. The amber liquid swilling about in the base was most likely scotch and I took it from her gratefully. “You know I love a good cuddle. _And_ a good perve, at that. Besides, I’ve already seen your bottom, not much else would shock me after that.” She took a sip from her wine and then pulled a face, lifting one finger from the glass to gesture towards my groin. “Well… except for the other thing that you’re hiding under there. I _might_ have said something if Little Hancock decided to poke his head out from under the towel but as far as the rest of it goes, rock on.”

I just about snorted the scotch down out of my nose at what she said and I spent a good minute coughing and laughing, whilst trying to keep my towel tied tight about my waist. This woman just never ceased to surprise with how cool she could be about certain things. Just about any other person would have screamed and split for the hills if they walked in on a Ghoul in a state of undress but she just rolled with it. What a relief she was so down to earth.

“Well I’ll uh, do my best to keep um… _Little_ Hancock under wraps.” I said when I was finally able to speak, thinking that referring to my junk as ‘Little Hancock’ was about as on the nose as you could get. “Now, is there any other reason you wanted to swan on in here… other than to clap your eyes on all this fine looking Ghoul meat?”

Eve laughed as she raised the arm that was supporting the hessian bag. “I just remembered that you didn’t have any of your skin treatment stuff, so I ran up to the shack to grab it for you. I know you like to use it after you take a shower, so…”

“Aww, cheers for that, Munch. Mighty thoughtful of you.” I said, waiting as she extracted the two bottles of oils and the canister of talc powder from the bag. I waited for her to pass them over but she retracted her arm slightly, looking as though she wanted to say something but wasn’t certain if she should. Judging by the pink of her cheeks, it was something that embarrassed her a little.

“Hey, um… did you want me to, uh… do your back for you?” She asked. I think she was trying to keep casual and professional with the offer but the fact that she wasn’t able to make eye contact suggested something else was going on in her mind. “I mean… I’ve gotta stick around to help wrap your ribs anyway… you can give yourself the Stim and the Med-X while I’m doing that…” She gave an offhand shrug. “Unless it makes you feel uncomfortable, of course.”

 _‘Oh honey, far from it’,_ I thought, wondering at the same time whether I would in fact be able to keep ‘Little Hancock’ under control if she were to put her hands on me. I almost turned her down from fear of this alone but the truth of the matter was that I was rarely able to treat my back as well as the skin on other parts of my body, simply because I just wasn’t able to reach it properly. It would have been genuinely helpful to have Eve apply the oil, not to mention how damn fine it would feel to have her hands touching me. Rubbing my sore skin… the bare flesh that hadn’t felt another person’s flesh in so long… my ugly, corroded, _nasty_ looking skin…

I shook my head at her, smiling to show that I was grateful but not wanting to subject her to something that was bound to make her feel really uncomfortable. “That’s sweet of ya darlin’, but I wouldn’t wanna put you through that.”

She frowned at me, not making a move to pass the bottles over still. “You are being pretty darn mean to yourself tonight, John Hancock and it’s starting to wear a bit thin. Do you see me looking even the teensiest bit squeamish?” She took a gulp from her wine before then marching past me, over towards the bench, where she clacked the glass down spectacularly before turning on her heel to snap her fingers at me. “Over here. Now.”

I gave her a long look, before then smiling and shrugging as I did as I was told; trailing over towards the bench to stand at her side. “Fine then. But don’t say you weren’t pre-warned.”

“Oh hush up.” She snapped, placing the bag down beside her glass and reaching in to extract first a Stimpak and then a Med-X needle. She thrust them both into my hands and then made a swirling motion with her finger. “Just turn around and let me get to work. You just concentrate on getting those bad boys into your blood stream.”

I chuckled as I turned around obediently, kind of liking her out of character assertiveness. She looked even prettier when she was cross, which was a strange thing to find appealing because I didn’t like seeing her angry very much but this right here, being bossed around by her… it was kind of fun. I guess I had gotten so used to being in charge in Goodneighbor that I was out of sorts with how it felt to have someone else tell me what to do. There was something liberating about her taking the responsibility out of my hands.

I had to bend a little to inject the Stimpak into my upper thigh, as close to the wound as was possible, so Eve waited until I was done with this before she started on my back. I tried to focus on preparing the Med-X syringe, flicking first the vial and then the needle to clear the bubbles but my heart was thudding madly in my chest all while.

It’s always the same when you’re attracted to someone; the feeling of that first proper skin to skin touch… Well, I mean, Eve and I have touched hands and she’s touched my face before but _this_ … I mean, the back was sort of an intimate area and she was going to be _rubbing_ me. A sensation I hadn’t felt for so long. At least, not without the barrier of my clothing between another person’s hand and my skin.

I had to bite my lip to smother out the gasp that nearly slipped loose as I felt her oil slicked palms come into contact with my back. My chest swelled with a deep breath, quite outside of my own control as her hands moved about, first spreading the oil along my skin before she started kneading and directing the fluid into the crevices and scars of my flesh. Tears sprang unbidden into the corners of my eyes and I thought I might actually weep for how heavenly it felt. My legs felt weak… God, had it really been so long since someone had touched me this way?

“How’s that feel?” Eve asked gently and I knew right away from the tone of her voice that she had been aware of so much more than just the condition of my skin when she had made this offer. She was being her usual sweet self; wanting to help me to feel good. And fuck if I didn’t love her all the more for it.

“God damn amazing.” I groaned back, hardly giving a jot that I was being so honest. Her thumbs were making circular motions against my skin which stirred up knots in the muscles beneath. When she lit on one of these, she started guiding her strokes in a particular direction, so that the knot bubbled and crunched beneath the surface of the flesh. I could feel my eyes rolling up into my head and I had to fight the urge to collapse onto the floor. “Can I just say you… ugh… you’re um… really good at this. I may have to start paying you.”

Eve laughed lightly as she moved onto the other side of my back, working at a knot she located just under my shoulder blade. Jesus, I guess that’s what folks mean when they talk about a good pain. “I used to have to do this sorta thing all the time for Nate. His muscles were always fucked up from training and stress. Never mind when he came back from the war.”

She paused for a moment there, easing up on the deeper massage and sweeping her palms down my back, following the sway of my spine before looping out. She rubbed the oil into first the wounds, then the cracks and tears of my lower back, before pressing her palms in and along on either side. She massaged outward, guiding the aches and pains and lumps out of the muscles. I fought against that familiar tingling sensation between my thighs which said I was enjoying this just a bit too much.

“You still getting that bad sciatic pain?” She asked, her tone businesslike. Talking about her old man always upset her and she tried to defer from the topic as quickly as she could when it drifted towards him.

I gave a nod of my head, remembering then that I still hadn’t injected the Med-X. The syringe hung limply at my side, completely forgotten what with the masterful ministrations Eve was conducting on my spine. I checked the vial over again, making certain everything was tip top and tried to decide where best to administer the dose. Med-X was an Intramuscular injection, so it was best administered in either the bicep or the glute. A mean part of me was tempted to pass it back to Eve and get her to inject it into my ass cheek for me but I thought this might be asking the slightest bit much.

I gestured for Eve to ease up for just as a moment so I could safely administer the Med-X into my left bicep. It needed to be injected slowly, as rushing the dosage could lead to all sorts of complications. The effects were almost instantaneous however; with a cool feeling of calm and numbness sweeping through my body. Damn this was some good shit.

“It’s fine, sister. Got the good stuff cranking now. Sleep like a baby and won’t even notice it.”

“You sure you don’t want me to give it a rub, try and ease some of the inflammation?”

I glanced at her over my shoulder, raising one brow in what I hope was a scolding gesture. The sciatic nerve, as she was well aware, was at the very base of my spine. Pretty much smack dab on my ass crack.

“Oh, I see… you just want me to take my towel off so you can have another gander at my butt. I know your game, missy.”

She gave a theatrical gasp. “The nerve of you, to level such an accusation at me! … In spite of the fact it may have some truth to it.”

I laughed as I reached around her to pick up my scotch glass from where I had it resting on the bench, bringing it back up to my lips to take another sip. Alcohol, Med-X and a back rub from a pretty girl… Dr Sun could just go right ahead and shove his credentials right where the sun didn’t shine because nothing he had on offer could beat _this_ out for quality medicinal care.

“Thanks for the offer, Munch but I think I’ve put you through enough horror for one evening. Rubbing my ass ain’t somethin’ I’d wanna subject my lady friend to.”

“Speaking of lady friends, you were telling me before about Belinda…” Eve said as she returned her hands to my back. I could tell from the thickness of the fluid in her palms that she was now applying the moisturizer. She rubbed harder now to try and work this deep into my flesh and I groaned at the feel of it, rolling my head around on my neck. I was gonna have to go toe to toe with a Yao Guai more often. “You said before that you felt like it was getting messy because there were feelings involved. Did you just mean with Belinda?”

“Well that. And my own feelings too.” I shrugged one shoulder, interrupting the path of her hand momentarily without meaning to. I wondered if I should be upfront with her now; show a little backbone about what had been rattling about in my noggin all night but I was worried it might not be appropriate with her rubbing my back. I settled on the middle ground. “It’s… not her that I wanna be with. And it ain’t right to be using her that way; especially when she’s wanting something more from me that I got no intentions of giving her.” I took a sip of my scotch, steeled myself and ploughed ahead. “Had a sort of epiphany, guess you could say. It’s not what I wanna do anymore. There’s… only one person I want to be with now and no one else is gonna substitute for them. Not right now anyway.”

Eve’s hands slowed on my back until they almost came to a stop entirely before then speeding up again. Harder, almost deliberately so. I waited for her to say something and I think she in turn waited for me to speak. Finally, after a few good thick dragging seconds of silence, she said:

“So there’s… someone else you wanna be with.”

Despite the smooth slide of the scotch down my throat, I felt a thickness form there and I stared down into the rip of the glass, examining the curl of the thick liquid as I rotated my hand from side to side. “Yeah.”

“Have you… um… told them?”

Here it was; the moment where the doors had cracked open just enough for me to get my foot inside so that I might eventually force my way past the threshold. My heart pounded so hard and I felt poised on taking action; wondering to myself whether I _was_ in fact about to turn, take her hands as they drifted away from my skin and kiss her. Because surely she had to know… it had to be obvious now, please for the love of God…

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. What a pair we both were, the two of us chickening out over and over again. I wanted her so bad but I was catatonic with the fear of what I might lose if I stepped wrong. I could fuck this up forever if I acted before she was ready and ruin everything on account of my damn stupid impetuousness. To think that I had taken so many risks in life but this here was the one thing that scared me so damn much, I couldn’t even dip a metaphorical toe in the water. I wanted to fall to my knees on the floor, look her in the eyes and beg, _‘Please… please just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. I’ll kiss you now if you’re ready. I’ll kiss you later if you need time, or I’ll back off completely and try to wean myself from the idea that I could ever have someone like you in my life. But please… just give me something,_ anything _, so I can do this right…’_

It was too much to work with and I didn’t know which way to turn with it, so I deflected, pursing my lips and glancing over my shoulder at Eve. She was looking right at me, waiting for… whatever the hell was coming next. Her face reinforced everything that I was feeling but answered nothing.

“Kinda thinking I don’t need to…” I said, going completely with the honest reality of our situation but without giving away too much. “Figure I’d just let things evolve naturally, you know?”

Eve took this in her stride and I saw her head tilt in my peripheral; her usual sweet and evasive gesture. “Even if it means you might have to… wait a hell of a long time for them to come around? Because they’re stupid and gormless and… emotionally constipated?”

A burgeoning warmth bloomed in my chest and with it, every ounce of fear seemed to fade out of sight. Because this here, _this_ was the acknowledgment I needed. Without giving too much away, whilst still protecting herself, Eve had given me something of a time frame. _Not right now,_ she seemed to be saying. _But sometime in the future… when I’m stronger, more healed… and ready to move on and be with someone else. If you’re willing to wait that long._

I smiled over my shoulder with genuine feeling, hoping that the calmness in my face was able to resonate with her also. That she could relax and rest easy now, knowing that I had gotten the message. That it was a relief to hear not a refusal but a condition. This much I could cope with. I could still preserve hope on this not quite so bitter vinegar.

“The one I care about… they’re worth waiting for. Regardless of how constipated they are.”

She glanced down towards the floor for a moment then, before meeting my eyes shortly thereafter. Her lip was pinched between her teeth as she smiled, slowly allowing it to unfurl and fall down plush and rosy again.

“Well… that MacCready is one lucky fella, I’ll say that much.”

It was another rebound but she had used it to ease the tension, so I could deal with it.

“He sure is.” I chuckled, bringing my eye down in a wink before twisting my head forward once more. “Only hope he realizes that himself.”

She gave a small murmuring laugh as her hands continued to glide and grind into my flesh, working down now into my lower back and above my hips. She worked the tight muscles there for a minute or two, before her palms went away and the ruffling of the supply bag informed me that the ‘medicinal pampering’ was well and truly over. Damn… nice while it had lasted.

“Can you show me where your ribs cracked, sweetheart?” Eve asked, moving around to stand in front of me, holding a roll of bandages in one hand and a steel clasp in the other.

I was anxious about her clapping eyes on my chest; properly that is, because she had damn near seen enough of me already by this point. But I would have to face her directly so that she could wrap the bandages about my midsection, which meant that she would have little choice but to get a great big eyeful of grotty Ghoul flesh and I wasn’t certain just how well she might cope with this. Still, there was no avoiding it now and besides, it was a perfect opportunity to see how she might deal with my skin and body. Something that she would have to if we ever did become physical. Might as well cut to the chase and see whether she could indeed handle it.

I lowered my arms so that my body was no longer obscured, trying to keep my muscles as tight as possible. Least I had _this_ much in my favour. Eve was already looking directly at my chest and I saw her fingers flex around the roll of the bandage, her cheek twitching up slightly as her lips parted to let in a breath. And was it my imagination, or were her cheeks turning just the teensiest bit red? Nope, no denying it; she was blushing all right. Fan-friggin-tastic. Slum dunk.

Seeing her reaction made me feel a little more confident, so I pulled my shoulders back straighter, bringing my arms away from the side of my body so that they no longer created a shadow over my chest. I was never what you would call ashamed of my condition but I generally didn’t go around without my top off if I could help it; a bit of mystery was what kept things sexy, you know? And if Eve had looked in any way repulsed, I most definitely wouldn’t have shown off in this manner but the widening of her eyes and darkening of her cheeks suggested that this was far from the case.

I smiled as I pressed the palm of my hand down onto my midsection, just underneath my left pectoral and felt the resounding, throbbing ache. Hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, even with the Med-X in my system. Eve’s eyes followed the movement of my hand, though not as quickly as I suspected they might. They had been lingering lower in fact, along the lines of my abdominals. She blinked a little, as though snatched out of a daydream and muttered ‘hmm?’ This had to be a good sign, right?

“Just in here, I think. Only this side… couldn’t tell ya how many. A good couple, at least.”

Eve sighed worriedly as she gently pressed the tail of the bandage to my skin and gestured for me to hold it in place with my hand. Her cheeks were still a little flushed but she was ever the consummate professional when it came to dealing with the important things. “I just hope there isn’t any internal damage… I guess the Stimpak should take care of that… but your lungs…” She cut herself off with an annoyed look at her own rambling and started to make her way around my body, moving under my raised arms as she measured the coil of the bandage carefully. “Jesus, listen to me going on. Sorry, darl. We’ll have ya sorted in just a minute.”

“It’s all good.” I said, watching with amusement as Eve reappeared on my right hand side, making certain the bandage came together neatly across my chest before she looped around me again. “You know, I could just hold this here and you could pass the bandage around… you’re gonna get dizzy walking in a circle like that.”

“It’s okay. I’d much rather you stay still, so I can make certain the bandage pulls tight enough. You just drink your scotch and chill.” She circled around under my arm again, looking up at me briefly and then flashing a cheerful looking smile. “Hey, wanna hear a joke?”

I bit back a groan. Eve was a genuinely funny person when it came to telling stories or just being her usual goofy self but she was, with all due respect, the very worst joker teller on the face of the earth. She was aware of it too; had told me as much when we had first started travelling together and I had in turn informed her that I had little patience for lazy humor. The ironic thing was, is that her jokes were _so bad_ that they actually ended up making me laugh anyway.

“Is it any good?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“I’m getting ready for the next time we have a joke telling session around the camp fire.” As she reappeared at my side again, she gave a pompous little puff of her chest, hiking her chin up with an over the top pretence of pride. “I’ve been working on my light bulb jokes.”

“Ah, that would be a no then.” I said, smirking and then grunting out an ‘Ow!’ as Eve tugged tight on the bandage, compressing it to my sore ribs even further. “Okay, all right, let’s hear it then.”

“Thank _you._ ” Eve enunciated, pausing in front of me just long enough to check that the bandages were firm enough before continuing her rotation around my body. “How many Mayor McDonough’s does it take to screw in a light bulb?”

Ah, maybe this one I _would_ like. “How many?”

“One. He holds the bulb and the entire Commonwealth revolves around him.”

I’d heard it before in reference to other people but I liked that she had used my pompous-ass old brother as a way to appeal to me. I chuckled as she looped around me once more.

“Sounds about right. Unless of course he just ignored the problem, which seems pretty much his standard.”

Eve herself laughed a little at this. “Okay, here’s another: How many Mayor Hancock’s does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”

“I’m gonna say one.” I said, taking another sip of my scotch and glancing back over at her as she paused again to adjust the bandage. “ _But_ he asks it out for dinner first and buys it a couple of drinks.”

“That’s better than what I was thinking.” Eve laughed, as she brought the bandage back around to the front of me. It felt very tight around my middle, like a big horrible belt which constricted my breathing. It was gonna be bloody awful to try and sleep this way but at least the bandage would provide some structure for the wounds to knit under the Stimpak’s influence.

“What were _you_ gonna say?” I asked, watching as she took the metal clasp out from between her teeth and hooked two of the sharp little legs into the tail of the bandage.

Eve glanced up at me before affixing the material; a mischievous little twinkle sparking light into her eyes. “None. People on such heavy medication shouldn’t risk climbing ladders.” She smirked, winking as she fastened the other end of the clasp to the bandage around my middle, using her fingers to press down and ensure it would hold tight. “Or alternatively he doesn’t bother because everyone in Goodneighbor can see what they’re doing from the light shining out of his ass.”

I pulled a face, delighted as always whenever she took to teasing or poking fun at my expense and reached down to scruff the top of her head.

“Oh, that’s real cute, Munch. Okay, try this one on for size: How many Eve Hallows does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”

She smirked back, silently consenting to the verbal joust as she returned to the bench to scoop up her glass of wine. “How many?”

“None. Because apparently she has way too much of a sloshy soup belly to screw anything, let alone a light bulb.”

Her mouth dropped open in a show of exaggerated offense and she reached over to backhand my right bicep.

“Thanks a lot. Make me out to be some kind of prude why don’t you?”

I laughed as I took another sip from my scotch. “What would you prefer; that I made a joke about your alcoholism? How many Eve Hallows does it take to change a lightbulb? Two; one to hold the bulb steady and one to drink until the room starts spinning.”

“Ha _ha._ ” She said sarcastically, leaning forward with one hand on her hip and tilting her head from side to side. “Fine, you gonna play this game, you’d best be prepared to keep up, funny man. How many Mayor Hancock’s does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”

“How many?”

“None. Mayor Hancock doesn’t screw in lightbulbs; he thinks he can turn them on just by rubbing against them.”

This one did genuinely make me laugh and I snorted with my mouth still full of scotch, turning to the side and holding up my finger towards her; fighting back the smile that crept up my face as she in turn laughed at my reaction. It took a good few seconds to calm myself down enough to be able to successfully swallow the scotch without spraying it everywhere; a feat that wasn’t helped by Eve still trying to make me laugh as I fought to keep control of my facial muscles.

“Well isn’t _that_ fucking nice?” I managed to say once I had gotten the scotch down. My eyes swam with tears from the small amount that had jolted up into my sinuses and I coughed a little, trying to clear my lungs as well. “Good on ya.”

“How many-” She started to say but I stepped forward, grabbing her by the shoulder and raising one finger from the scotch glass; waving it to and fro to indicate that the wordplay was well and truly done.

“Okay, okay _enough._ ” I said, lowering my head and blinking a few times to try and clear my vision. “One more light bulb joke and I’m gonna insert one up your ass while you’re sleeping and turn you into a floor lamp.”

She laughed, waving a hand good naturedly. “Fine. Just make sure you put it in narrow end first, okay?”

We both chuckled a little more at this but Eve went silent after a moment, giving me a sad, embarrassed look.

“You know…” She started to say and then paused, biting her lip before continuing, looking all the more shy. “I’m actually glad you didn’t… hook up with that girl tonight. I don’t have any right to be but… I am. I’m so sorry, isn’t that awful of me?”

I was very conscious of my breathing right then, which seemed to take a great deal more effort than usual and not just on account of the bandage around my middle. “It’s not awful. Why would you even think that?”

“You know… because…” She paused, twiddling her fingers one around the other. One of her usual little habits that came out when she was feeling anxious. “I’m not… I’m just… a pretty poor substitute for… all the fun you could’ve had with her. And it’s like I expect that you’d be happy just to shelve it to come hang out with me and be old and doddery and boring.”

I smiled, tapping my palm to the wall of my chest. “Hey. _I’m_ old and doddery too, don’t forget. Wouldn’t go so far as to say we’re boring though. Besides, it was _my_ decision, Munch. I want to be here with you.”

Eve looked back up at me, away from her fingers and arched one of her shoulders self-consciously. “Was she hurt when you told her that you didn’t want to be with her?”

It was just like her to concern herself with someone else’s feelings at a time like this. “Yeah… although why I couldn’t begin to tell you. Doing the girl a kindness at the end of the day.”

She gave me a long look from beneath her brows; slightly reproachful. “I’d be sad if I was her. It sucks to be rejected.”

“It’ll clear the way for her to meet somebody else, Munch. To get on with her life.” I said, tilting my head to the side and smiling at her fondly. Every little bad feeling that I had had about that situation earlier tonight had been completely absolved with everything Eve had told me. It was a hell of a web that could be spun from the resultant drama of such innocuous misunderstandings. “You know… I got cross because I thought you were… trying to nick me off out of it… away from you. So I’m actually kinda relieved to hear you say that you didn’t really want me to do it.”

“No.” She drawled, shaking her head as she returned my smile. “Not at all, my darling. I just… wanted to be fair to you. Because I’ve been pretty unfair so far.” She hefted her shoulders together, a poise that seemed to suggest that she felt ashamed of herself. Her brows slanting down over her eyes only added to this overall impression of guilt. “I’m such a… horrible coward. I don’t want you all wasting your time on me, when I’m such a goddamn mess.”

“You’re not a mess.” I said, hating that she could even believe such a thing for even a moment. “You’re terrific. Every second I’ve been out here with you has been exactly what I wanted to do, Munch. You are… the _least_ possible waste of time a guy could have.”

“Thank you.” She murmured and then, almost as if taking a cue from the welling feelings of anxiety, she started babbling like a generator coming to life. “But seriously, I don’t want you guys all just putting your life on hold and-”

“Ah, ah, ah, ah-” I tutted, reaching out and using my fingers to pinch her lips shut. She blinked back at me, so complacently that a smile broke across my lips without any conscious direction on my part. “Shh. Stop that shit before you go bringing me down, all right? I’ve just told you it’s all good. I’m happy.” And just in case she required any proof of this, I slid my hand down and cupped the side of her neck firmly, making good and certain that she met my eyes. “Right here, right now, is the happiest I’ve ever felt in a good damned while. Didn’t have to go slippin’ it to anyone to feel that way either. That’s all down to you, darlin’.”

Eve sighed and then chuckled a little, her cheeks changing color once more. “Goddammit you can be a charming bastard when you want, John Hancock.” She reached up and kissed my cheek, giving me a smile before then pulling away with a shocked gasp. “Oh, shitsticks! I wrapped your ribs before I put your talc on! God, I’m such a friggin’ airhead!”

“Eve, you don’t need to worry about that-” I tried to say but she was already shaking the can of talc wildly all over my back, sending a white cloud flying into the air around our heads. She gave a few firm slaps to my upper shoulders and down into my lower back, working around the bandage.

“There. As close to as smooth as a baby’s bottom as you’re likely to get, darl.” She said, using both hands to patty cake my skin. “Oh and speaking of which…”

I felt a cold draft against the backs of my thighs which didn’t make sense at first, until I realized that Eve had just hiked up my towel from behind. I yelped as her powdered hand smacked against my ass, sending my spine into an unconscious curve as I tried to tuck myself away from her. My ribs throbbed furiously in response to the angle I’d put them under.

“There we are. Mustn’t go forgetting to powder that little tush.” She said, giving me one last smack there as she dropped the towel back into place. I spun about, genuinely a little shocked that she had done this and she grinned, obviously pleased that she had gotten a reaction out of me. “Ha! The look on your face, darl! Anyway, I’ll see you back up at the shack when you’re done. Good nights’ rest and you’ll be feeling right as rain again, sweetheart.”

She gave my arm a comforting squeeze as she made her way past, sipping from her glass as she stomped her way out of the shower block. Bemused, I waited until she had disappeared around the corner before turning my back towards the mirror and lifting the towel. I stared at the white handprint that she had left behind on my ass cheek; reconsidering everything that I thought to be true. 

My heart felt as warm as the place on my cheek where she had kissed me. I couldn’t have felt more alive than if I had just spent the last hour and a half pounding Belinda into the bedsheets and this was a hell of a thing for someone like me; a man who knew so little about love. Because that’s what it had to be, right? Not able to think of anyone else but her, feeling like a stupid awkward idiot every time I opened my mouth in her presence, unable to even fathom going off to bed with another woman… Feeling weak in the knees from one tiny kiss to the cheek and a friendly smack to the rump… I didn’t want to take my eyes off of her, just in case she slipped from my world before I could pin her down again. It _had_ to be love. That or my Chems had been cut with something far more potent than usual.

These feelings for her, these soft and tender thoughts were stronger even than my desire to make love to her. See, even _that._ ‘ _Make love to her’_. I never described sex like this, not in such a florid, wishy-washy way but the term at long last made sense to me. You didn’t fuck someone that you loved; you gave that love _to_ them with your own body. It was the instrument with which to transcribe the depth of your feelings upon the canvas of their flesh. Long, slow, sensual… It would be a whole other experience for me. I was a virgin when it came to matters of the heart and the more that I came to realize just how much I cared for Eve, the less confident I became in how to approach her with the clarity of my feelings.

But now… now I think she knew. Or in the very least, she acknowledged that I was prepared to keep myself firmly planted on the back burner until she was ready to bring me back to the heat. I might have gotten bored if it had been any other woman but _this_ one? Yeah, she was worth it.

**~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Phew, you all still with me? Thanks again for sticking around for this extremely long chapter guys. The next half will simply round off Hancock’s time in Goodneighbor and then after that addition, it’ll be the reunion. Good ‘effing grief, it’s taken a long time to get there, that much is for certain. But I appreciate all of you lovely people for your patience with this.
> 
> Okay, some notes for the above chapter:  
> 1.) The expansion of Goodneighbor: To me, this would be an inevitable and natural development if the world of Fallout 4 were to expand individually so far as each of the characters were concerned. After his time spent travelling with the Long Wanderer, I imagine that Hancock would have felt a great deal more compelled to push himself further to help provide for others. He has this very generous mindset as a character anyhow, so I can totally see him pulling shit together as he is now getting older and more settled. He is aiming for Goodneighbor to be a place that people now feel safe to come and be supported if they are particularly vulnerable. He is genuinely attempting to draw away from the towns reputation as a troublesome place; full of dirt, drugs and violence.
> 
> 2.) The Yao Guai attack: Just want to be clear that this is not the injury that resulted in Hancock returning to Goodneighbor to heal up. Complete separate thing.
> 
> 3.) Outpost Zimonja: The location for the flashback scene is one that I imagined in my mind but didn’t exactly see as one of the currently existing settlements. Outpost Zimonja is the closest geographically. I also imagine that by this stage, all these settlements are built similarly to small towns. Clearly, they would not at all be like any of the settlements that I roughly cobbled together in my own playthrough. ... Because that would be sad.
> 
> 4.) Deacon referring to Eve as 'Cherub': Not one of the options for the SS's Railroad codenames I know but I came up with this original after Glory (I think) referred to herself in game as the 'Angel of Death'. In comparison to Eve, who is seen as a bit of a la-la, I thought it would be humorous for Deacon to have chosen the name 'Cherub' for her; in reference to the fat little angels, which don't sound the least bit threatening of course. I just wanted something unique, since I see the other code names everywhere else.
> 
> 5.) The Vault-Tech Rep: Poor guy was what I would consider to be a more integral character but they never even bothered to give him a name! Well, whilst playing one day, the name 'Xavier' for some reason just drifted into my head. So, that became his name in this story. Xavier. 
> 
> I know there were more notes that I wanted to add but for the life of me I can’t remember what they are now and I’ve waited long enough to post this so, if they come to me, I’ll just add them to the end of the chapter later.
> 
> In the meantime, please feel free to comment, kudos, whatever. I welcome any and all questions, critiques or suggestions. I’ll be getting back to work on the last half of this chapter now and I hope it won’t be too long before I am back with more content for you wonderful folks!
> 
> Hoping that wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, you are happy and well my darlings! :) Until next time!
> 
> ~ Love MadamMortis ~ xxx ooo


	7. Wanderer's Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Eve paddled her way underneath the overhanging tree near the rock we had claimed, a ravaged arm suddenly dropped down from the branch above and locked around her neck. It happened so suddenly that I thought for a second I must have misconstrued what I had seen, because there was no way this could have been happening. We had poked around the lagoon before getting into the water and I’d checked the drop line and the shore itself religiously. How could someone have slipped in so easily? I’d let my guard down on a few occasions sure, but…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: The following is a work of fiction, based off of already existing work of fiction. These characters do not belong to me but to Bethesda gaming studios and all their affiliated persons. I do take full responsibility for the way that I manhandle them however.
> 
> A/N: Hello my gorgeous Fallout 4 loving darlings! I hope you are doing well and that life is treating you kindly. If not, I can only hope that maybe taking some time out to have a bit of a read may help to give you a break from things. Remember to always be kind and generous to yourself and take the time out to treat yourselves to things you enjoy! (Not suggesting that my writing is by definition enjoyable but… you know… chocolate and ice-cream and wine, all that other good stuff!)
> 
> Well, this chapter cut it very fine my lovely readers but I managed to scrape it in there just before the end of the month! And what a month it has been; crazy work and family stuff and a shite-load of sickness. As it stands, I finished writing this chapter today whilst recovering from either the flu or a very mean stomach bug. One or the other, it hasn’t quite made up its mind yet. God knows what the content is going to be like as a result, because I wrote a ton of stuff in an absolute pain killer induced delirium. Probably work out okay, since I’m writing from Hancock’s point of view but I digress.
> 
> This is also officially the longest chapter of the whole gosh darn story, beating out even the previous one I posted. The temptation to once again cut it in half was there but I promised it would only be one chapter more before the reunion scene and I was not going to go back on that!
> 
> Warnings for the chapter: Violence, gore, sexual content foul language, nudity… um, basically just about everything you can expect from me really. And lots of exposition. And Hancock being mopey.
> 
> Also, please keep in mind that there is some derogatory references in this chapter; made mostly by members of the Neighborhood Watch to each other or sometimes in regards to women. These are not views that I share myself, I feel that I must point out. This is just significant to the characters and their own individual preferences. I am very supportive of women obviously and also the LGBT community and well, most everyone really. Except for the obvious; assholes, murderers, rapists, paedophiles, people who commit bestiality, I’m sure I don’t need to go through them all for you to get an idea of what I disapprove of!
> 
> Well anyhow, I feel that I’ve blathered on quite long enough. Go on ahead and have a read, guys! I’ll see you on the other side of the chapter!

> _“Ego says, “Once everything falls into place, I’ll feel peace”_
> 
> _Spirit says, “Find your peace, and then everything will fall into place.” **~ Marianne Williamson ~**_

 

** John Hancock **

**_Goodneighbor – Current Day…_ **

The fact that Eve had seen far more of my naked body than most… _anyone_ had since I became a Ghoul, failed to make as much of an impression on Pattie as it had me. He stared blankly whilst I told the story of that night; his brows quirked diagonally across his face to form an expression I can only describe as complete and utter repugnance. By the time I had finished speaking, he didn’t appear any more convinced of my convictions than he had before I had started out. If anything, he looked more depressed. And kind of sick to his stomach.

“Oh… my… God… I think I _am_ gonna cry.” He finally said, turning slowly away from me and taking an even more belaboured drag from his cigarette. His face had drooped beneath his brows to the degree that he was now devoid of all expression. Much like a person struck numb by trauma. “And not even in a supposedly ‘manly’ way, like BC. Boss, you were like my frickin’ idol and now you’re some weird celibate gooseberry hangin’ out for some chick; who has obviously _friend zoned_ you! What the hell is going on in this town? Is there some new Chem going around which turns blokes into pussy whipped love fucked douches, or what?”

I heaved a sigh which seemed to come from the farthest reaches of my lungs, wondering whether I might dredge up any residual traces of tolerance I still had in me in the same breath. I was fast losing patience with the boys’ attitude towards monogamy. Once upon a time I suppose I hadn’t been much different. I had invited people into my life on my terms alone and I enforced a bold air so as to convince everyone around me that I was in control at all times. That’s what a man is like when he’s boy; terrified that if he lets his guard drop for a moment, something terrible might happen. Someone might see him as weak, or walked over or God forbid, at the mercy of the affections of a woman.

It was embarrassing now to think that I had ever worried about such ridiculous, childish apprehensions. I mean, if a guy lets a woman lead him around by the balls that’s one thing. _That’s_ the sort of a relationship which was emasculating and toxic. But a woman who made you feel both stronger _and_ weaker; who never stooped to undermining you but still respected you enough to allow you to continue being your own man… There was no shame in pining after someone like this. Sometimes I honestly felt like these younger lads lived with the constant fear of falling in love. As though it were something to be ashamed of; to grant the concession of your heart and your loyalty to one person alone. I had honestly never felt less ashamed in my entire life. This devotion was the purest thing that had ever graced my predominately filthy world and I was more fulfilled by it than I had ever been by the thousands of chemically derived substances that bolstered my mind and body into artificial contentment when I had forced them into my veins.

“Why does everyone freak the fuck out when they become chummy with a dame?” I murmured, quirking my own brow back in Pattie’s direction. “It’s like you think that there’s some kinda problem with getting to know someone and lettin’ ‘em get close to you. The best relationships come out of friendships, right?”

Pattie snorted, unconvinced. “How does that even work? What do you wanna have then? Some sort of weird… friends with benefits deal? Because I’ll tell ya right now; that shit NEVER works out! It just… ends with the girl who was apparently “all cool” about shit not being serious, trying to shoot you and the other girl she just caught you with.”

I laughed at this “not quite” metaphorical example. “Jesus and I thought _I_ was a handful when I was young… Besides, isn’t a monogamous relationship exactly the same as a friends with benefits deal?” I turned to the one person who I thought had relevant experience in the matter; hoping he might support me in this exchange. “Meyer; you and Meg were friends before you starting seeing each other, yeah?”

Meyer cocked his head from side to side; the way folks do when they are conceding but not quite agreeing with your point. “Well… yeah but the friendship was definitely more on her part than mine. I was always after something more.” He tilted his head towards me now, staring from under the brim of his heat in a meaningful manner. “And I think, if you’re being honest with yourself, that you have been too, _Capo_.”

“Gotta give you that one.” I answered with a chuckle, knowing it to be quite true. I had been fond of Eve from the moment I met her, there was nothing false in that. But I was initially interested in her as a woman, rather than as a person. It was after I had spent some time getting to know her that I found myself attracted to her personality as well; perhaps even more than her body.

But there had never been a time when I hadn’t been of the mind to have more from her than her conversation alone. If I was forever relegated to the role of her friend, I would simply shoulder my disappointment and deal with it but I couldn’t kid myself by pretending that this was _all_ I wanted. I was greedy, just as Meyer had been all those years ago. I wanted this woman clenched tight between both unyielding hands; in every way that a man could have a woman. … With the exception of a few personal preferences, of course.

Pattie made an impatient sounding grunt, tilting his head towards me as though suddenly commiserating with my situation. “Seriously though baby; you don’t start using it, you’re gonna be losin’ it. I hear that’s a serious thing with you Ghouls.” He shook the dwindling cigarette at me; or my specifically, at my groin. “I’m tellin’ ya now; if for no reason other than your health, you need to go down to the Third Rail, grab some piece of ass and just-” And here he made an obscene thrusting movement with his hips. “- fucking _rail_ her against the wall before you turn into one of those weird people with… hobbies. Like… making sculptures out of shit you find in the Wasteland, I don’t know.”

“Hey,” I snapped, giving him a cold look which I’m quite certain must have matched my feelings towards his recommendations. I mean, had the boy even _comprehended,_ let alone _listened_ to anything I had said about my feelings for Eve? “Did it maybe occur to you that I’m not interested in just… ‘ _nailing some piece of ass’_ right now, fuckwit?”

He dashed both hands into the air, his expression scrunching into a rictus of disbelief. “So you’re just gonna keep on holding out for Munch to, what? Drop her guard enough for ya ta slip ya dick in?”

“Fuckin’ right I am.” I growled, crossing my arms tight over my chest as I stared out over the still developing Eastern quadrant. “Some things are worth waiting around for, kid. A concept that is lost on an impatient little man slurry like you.”

Pattie scoffed and rolled his eyes up. “Havin’ patience is one thing boss but I’m tellin’ ya now, _NO_ pussy is worth waitin’ over a year for. Not unless it also doubles as a beer tap and has a vibrate function.”

“You know, you’re startin’ to sound the slightest bit down on your future Queen.” I said, which wrought another string of laughter from the boys. I waited until they were quiet again before adding; “And here I thought you were fond of my Munch.”

Adrian barked out a laugh. “‘ _Fond of_?’ That’s puttin’ it mildly. Kid was gonna try and bury a bone in her himself when she first came to town.”

“Ah,” I mused, giving Pattie a look which suggested that this was somehow news to me. This wasn’t the case of course, as I had been very aware of his intentions from the get go and I knew enough of his character to understand full well that wherever there was estrogen to be found, Pattie wouldn’t be too far behind whiffing the air like a Mutant Hound. “So the truth comes out in the wash, Pattie boy. Could it be that all this detraction is just a means of keeping the competition away so you can have your wicked way with my girl?”

Pattie sighed as he swung his eyes towards me impatiently, not looking the least impressed by my suggestion. “Please… I mean, the chick’s got a sweet ass and all but it’s a fucking blessing I didn’t commit myself to runnin’ _that_ marathon. Otherwise I’d be like _you_ ; gettin’ all fat and passive aggressive while the end of my dick scabs over.”

This hadn’t been the first time that the boys had made fun of me for gaining weight since I’d met Eve. You would think that being out in the Wasteland I would have been more likely to have trimmed down some but Eve was a prolific feeder and far too proficient a cook for anyone’s good. She always kept the food up to us regardless of what circumstances we found ourselves in and often wouldn’t stop shoving the spoons into our gobs until we were fit to busting.

I’d never been particularly good about feeding myself over the years and Fahrenheit wasn’t exactly what you would call a domestic sorta gal either. Not that it mattered really since my appetite was most often diminished by the Chems that I took. In the past I would make do with either tinned food, snacks or whatever Chuck could throw together for me down in the Third Rail. Sometimes Meyer’s missus would send a meal or two my way when she got concerned that I wasn’t eating enough.

In hindsight, I realize that I was more than a little on the scrawny side when I first met Eve. She had told me as much herself and had made it a personal mission to ‘whack some gristle on my bones’; a goal she had taken great pains in achieving this past year. I had thusly returned to Goodneighbor a good thirteen pounds heavier than when I had left her. Which wasn’t exactly a blistering amount of chunk; given that I think I had been in the mid seventy kilo range to start with. But the way the boys all laughed and carried on, you would think that I came back a hulking behemoth who had been eating nothing but Brahmin fed Deathclaws with whipped cream on top for the entire year.

I could give less of a shit about their teasing. For the first time in my life, I actually felt healthy and I’d gained a good appetite for solid ‘home’ cooked food whilst I’d been on the trail with Eve. A diet that I had grown accustomed to and was now missing. I’d actually _lost_ some of the weight I had acquired since then because I couldn’t cook worth a damn and hadn’t kept much of an appetite anyway. Too busy pining, huffing up and drinking myself stupid to try and block out the fact that I _was_ pining in the first place. God, I would have _killed_ for one of her Beef Salsa Burgers right now…

“This isn’t fat…” I said, poking at my sides and belly with my finger. “I’m just… working on some love handles. And just how the hell would you know what’s going on with my dick? You been watching me in the shower again, boy?”

Pattie burst out laughing and shot a wink in my direction. “You know it.”

“Well hey, looks like you may have a date to the party tomorrow after all, boss.” Adrian added cheerfully; once he and Meyer had finished laughing.

“Least you know there’s a good chance _I’ll_ put out.”

“Well all right.” I chuckled, making a show of straightening up my outfit and readjusting my hat. “I’ll make sure and wear somethin’ pretty.”

Pattie laughed as he flicked some ash from the diminishing end of his cigarette and took another drag. “Ya know I _would_ have gotten in there first if you hadn’t gone and decided you wanted the Muncher all to yourself. It’s a pretty shit mayor that uses his powers for evil, boss-man.”

I slipped another smoke from the packet in my pocket and took another moment to light up. After I’d taken a few puffs, I turned back to Pattie and said, “I consider it my civic duty to protect nice young ladies from villainous letches like yourself, Pattie-boy. My Munch is far too good to be poked and prodded by _you_ and your nasty, pimple covered little wang _._ ”

Pattie threw his hands up in the air, donning an expression of pure offense. “ _Me_ a villainous letch? _You’re_ old enough to be her _father,_ ya filthy old ped! At least she and I were born in the same decade!”

“She was born over two hundred years ago; that was hardly in the same decade.” I snapped, though smirking all the while to show that I wasn’t truly offended by his comments. This was our usual standard back and forth. Some people you just enjoy giving a hard time to and we were that to one another. And without Dipshit around to shoulder my frustrations, someone was going to have to fill the metaphorical void. “So technically _she’s_ the predator and I’m the wee vulnerable little cub.”

“Or _would_ be the cub if she ever lets you get within an inch of her drawers,” Meyer added, staring thoughtfully off into the distance. “You know, I wonder if it’s possible to actually go without sex so long that you turn back _into_ a virgin?”

I pulled a face, wondering as I did whether I had in fact gotten as soft as Finn had once fatally suggested I had. Might have been some truth to that, considering how little respect I now derived from the men who I had once led on a bloody yet courageous revolution. “Seriously? What the hell _is_ going on with this town? I fuck off for _one year_ and you’ve all gotten fricken cheeky. Can’t I trust you to be unsupervised?”

Pattie pointed a finger at me, laughing. “Hey, you left us to run wild, baby. And you can’t expect us not to make fun now the shoes on the other foot. Jesus, I bet _Kent_ is getting laid more than you right now.”

“Damn, now that _would_ be depressing…” Meyer mused, his brow ridge quirking up into the lines of his forehead. Adrian frowned over at the both of them, clearly disapproving of their comments.

“Poor Kenny. That’s not very nice, fellas.”

“Poor old Kent…” Pattie added, shaking his head sympathetically. “Now _that’s_ a guy in desperate need of pussy. Get him laid and I reckon he’d spend a lot less time in those fucking Memory pods.”

Meyer pressed a kiss to his curled thumb and raised both it and his eyes to the Heaven’s. “Amen to that, brother. Maybe we can introduce him to someone?”

“Nah, too much of a chance that he’d open his mouth and say somethin’ to put them off.” Pattie muttered, pecking the top of his cigarette with his finger so that ash broke away into small, segmented clouds. “We should ‘hire’ someone… you know, a real professional.”

“You’d have no short list of contacts I imagine, Pat.” I added, smiling charmingly as he in turn faked a laugh.

“Hardy ha… Hey Hancock; Methuselah called and she wants her hymen back. Anyhow, what I’m thinkin’ right, is we sneak this girl into the memory pod while he’s under. She can get all on top and you know…”

Meyer leant back, cupping a hand to his hat to prevent it from tipping off of his head as he burst out laughing. “Hot damn, _cugine._ That shit’s got a ring to it that don’t sound, now what’s the word I’m looking for? Um… _ethical?_ ”

Pattie waved a hand uncaringly. “Oh, it _will_ be once he wakes up, I guarantee it.” He perched a hand against his hip then; striking a feminine pose and affecting a breathy, high pitched woman’s voice as he wiggled his hips from side to side as though riding atop something vigorously moving. “Hey honey, bet you never stuffed a turkey like _this_ back in Thanksgiving 2071. Gobble gobble.”

This was enough to set us off again and we all bust for laughing; cupping our knees and or leaning against the wall behind us. Even Adrian gave in to a chuckle; though he looked ashamed of himself not two seconds later for submitting to his feelings. I respected more the fact that he didn’t grass Kent up and clue the other fellas in to the crush he was apparently nursing for Magnolia. Poor bastard would never hear the end of it if they got a hold of _that_ information.

“Say,” Pattie chortled, leaning over to smack the back of his hand against my arm. “Maybe old Kent’ll lend you one of his Silver Shroud cut outs to hump? You could bore a little hole in it or something.”

I waved his hand away. “Thanks but I don’t think I’m _that_ desperate just yet. And what the hell you mean by ‘ _little_ hole’?”

“Yeah man, be generous.” Meyer said, holding up his little finger and twisting it from side to side. “Give him a caps width at least.”

“I was thinkin’ you’d just need to poke a pencil through it…”

I smirked as I pushed myself up and away from the wall, conceding defeat in this exchange. Clearly the boys had a mind to tease me and knowing that I was in a weakened state, were taking full advantage of it. “Yeah, yeah all right. I don’t gotta stand around and listen to this shit all day, I could get this if I wandered over to Diamond City and poked my head in. Haven’t you guys got some patrollin’ to finish up?”

Pattie made a mock sympathetic noise. “Oh- _ho_ here we go; boss is gonna go and get all butt hurt because he’s copped a teasing for the first time in his life.” He then pretending to wipe his eyes with his fists, scrunching his face up like an irritated infant. “Boo-bee-boo-boo!”

Adrian, who was ever so clearly in my corner when it came to matters of the heart, frowned as he whipped the back of his hand firmly across the cuff of Pattie’s ear; knocking his fedora askew in the process. “Boy, would you knock it off already? The boss has obviously gone and fallen in love with this dame and he wants to try and do the right thing by her. It ain’t nothin’ worth given him shit about!”

Rather than admonishing them into silence, this statement only served to ramp Pattie and Meyer up all the more and they sighed in a very condescending over the top manner, twisting their hands beneath their jaws and fluttering their eyes at me as they breathed the word ‘Awww’ in my direction. Cheeky fucking cunts.

“Is that what’s happened, Hancock?” Pattie simpered, pretending to wipe an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. “Has our big bad boss finally fallen in _wuv_?”

“Maybe that’s why Munch hasn’t been putting out.” Meyer laughed, shooting a little wink in my direction. “She isn’t into other girls.”

I snapped a finger towards the ground and raised my eyes skyward, as though I had been well and truly trounced. “Ooh _ouch_. Calling me a girl ‘cause I got _feelings_. You got me good.” I made a big show then of dragging my jacket and waistcoat off of the ground and flinging them over my shoulder with a dramatic flourish. I spun on my heel, slapping the palm of my spare hand to my butt as I turned my back on the sniggering little group of detractors. “Well, _you_ my friends, can just kiss my big fat decrepit ass as I walk away.”

“Love to,” Pattie called out as I sashayed my way back up towards the Western Annex. “If you could just get Adrian’s lips off of it long enough to make room for mine.”

“What the fuck? Just go and turn on _me_ why don’t you?”

I turned my hand and waved at the whole bunch of them; cutting off what I’m sure was brewing up to be a veritable shit flinging competition. “All right kids, all right, settle petal. Seriously though, BC; what time you clocking off?”

Adrian gave a little roll of his shoulders as he raised his wrist to his face; checking his watch. One of the only people I knew who actually bothered to wear one, which might have explained just why he was so organized. “Now, actually. Figured I’d check back in with Mags and then go and do a bit more reno in the room, before I click back on at eight.”

“We’ll grab some grub later, round 6ish yeah? But seriously brother,” I pointed my finger at him firmly, making good and certain that he looked at me before I continued speaking. “Don’t go sitting up there in the room all alone makin’ yourself feel more upset. Why dontcha go get yourself involved with some of the stuff goin’ on down here first? Don’t think I didn’t see you eyein’ off that jumpin’ castle while we were talkin.’”

Adrian sighed in a moony, dreamy fashion as he glanced longingly towards the now fully inflated jumping castle. The New Vegas boys were currently in the midst of interring thick metal pins into the ground, around which they firmly looped and tied the stabilizing lines. One fella was carefully examining a patched area where a repair must have previously taken place and then flashed a thumbs up towards his supervisor. Looks like things were just about right to roll.

“It _does_ look damned good fun.” He confessed, though I hardly needed convincing of the fact myself. The bloody thing looked as though it was designed for children but I felt an almost irrepressible urge to fling myself onto it and bounce around. Spooky. “But that’s just the point, boss. Jumpin’ castle is all good feelings and shit. How am I supposed to bounce up high when my heart is feelin’ so darn low?”

Meyer evicted a moan from his lungs that sounded as though he were in genuine physical pain and despairing of life. “Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he’s turning into a fucking poet.” He reached across now and grabbed Adrian’s wrist with the force of a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin affecting a ‘cleansing’. “Nope, that’s well enough of that, BC, you are _definitely_ getting on that jumping castle _now._ ‘Fore you’ve got us all committing fucking _harakiri_ down here together.”

“Too right, dude, I’m gonna come and have a go as well.” Pattie enthused, though I can’t imagine his declaration came as a surprise to anyone. The man was locked in a perpetual state of childhood; possessing an almost Peter Pan like aversion to the concept of growing up. “That shit looks bangin’!”

“Hate to be a downer, kid but the two of you are still supposed to be on patrol.” I reminded them; part admonishing, part sour grapes because my own busted leg did not permit me to partake in the inflatable bouncy castle antics. Not that anyone needed to be aware that I had a secret desire to indulge in this. Mayor’s gotta try and be cool occasionally.

Pattie, who was already heading in the direction of the castle, turned and offered up a gratuitous shrug of his shoulders. “Hey, crime can strike on a jumping castle, just as easy as it can anywhere else in Goodneighbor.” He shot a wink in my direction and then threw a big, looping gesture of his arm towards Meyer and Adrian. “Let’s bounce, bitches!”

And with that he took off running towards the jumping castle like a big overexcited child, ignoring the flagrant, disapproving gestures of the Tops personnel who were still in the midst of reinforcing it. Pattie of course paid little to no attention; stopping only to hurl his gun off to the side, rip his jacket off and kick his shoes free with juvenile abandon.

“Why don’t you come and have a go as well, boss?” Adrian asked brightly, as in the background Pattie hurled himself star-fish style onto the jumping castle, where he was immediately tossed back into the air like an omelette being flipped over on itself. The Tops staff were veritably shitting themselves on account of his interference and were working doubly hard now to try and reinforce the jumping castle before it got knocked out of shape. “Could be a laugh, eh?”

I quirked my brow at him. “What? The town mayor and a bunch of his security personnel jumping around on an inflatable castle like a spattering of drunk toddlers? _That’s_ a sight which inspires confidence.” I laughed as I lifted my leg as much as I was able, tapping the back of my fist to the concealed brace beneath. “Besides, I think you’re forgetting about my little friend here…”

Adrian hissed from between his teeth, looking annoyed with himself all the more now. “Shit, I did too. Sorry boss.”

“He could bounce around on one leg?” Meyer suggested, miming in turn how this might have looked on the jumping castle. Kind of like a Psycho-fucked one legged Raider with an old spinal cord for his remaining leg and no sense of rhythm whatsoever. The image made me smile though.

“Meyer, buddy… you are a Ghoul in more than name.” I chuckled, brushing some of the dust from my waistcoat and jacket before fetching another drag in from my cigarette. And just to assuage Adrian, I added; “It’s all good, man, I gotta check in with Fahrenheit, see how numbers are going. Think I’ve abandoned her to the hard work for just long enough for her to appreciate me when I get back. You go have fun. But seriously,” And here he received another waggle from the finger. “ _Don’t_ just up and leave Mags in the lurch again, yeah? You know all these guys from Grant Lanta and she’s havin’ a hell of a time learnin’ some of them new songs. And whatever good intentions you got about lendin’ Kent a hand, ain’t helpin’ him much when ya put him on the spot to try and sing lines for Mags to copy, ya dig?”

“Nothin’ wrong with that, is there?” Adrian stated, looking astonished that I could come close to even suggesting such a thing. “Kent’s got himself a fine voice, ‘bout time he had a chance to show it off.”

I sighed, pressing my fingers to my temples and wondering if I would be able to get myself up and out of this heat without having to explain everything step by step to this guy. I think all the smoking might have had me a little dehydrated too. Beer would fix that up right quick.

“Yeah, he’s got a good voice and all but he’s near shittin’ himself with anxiety, BC. Bad enough he’s been put on the spot but Mags has got him all flustered to boot. Cheer up and lend a hand where it’s needed, yeah?”

Adrian gave a little smile and tilted his big head in my direction. “Yeah, I got ya boss. Sorry.”

“Ain’t nothing to be apologizin’ for. Just stop mopin’ around so much.”

Meyer gave me a shove in the shoulder that I took to be a kind of reprimand and sure enough his expression had a very typically ironic and superior look about it. The kind he always wore just before he handed down his little old and tried pearls of wisdom.

“Come on, now… that’s not entirely fair coming from _you_.” He said, which was a fair point but not one that I wanted to hear just then. Meyer must have read this from my expression because he raised both hands in a sign of surrender, holding the axe almost horizontally across the line of his head before gesturing to both Adrian and I with the blade. “Just… do yourselves a favour and take my advice the _both_ of ya’ll; if these dames are worth all this bother, quit your belly achin’ and just tell ‘em how you feel next time they’re in town. Then let the chips fall where they may.”

“But what if she says she ain’t interested and don’t ever wanna clap eyes on me again?” Adrian moaned, his large lower lip falling almost supine with his chin. He looked like an enormous kid on the verge of a whirlwind tantrum when he did that. “What then?”

Meyer flapped his hands through the air dismissively; looking annoyed at Adrian’s nerve in asking such a question. “Then you fucking move on and stop hanging your hopes on a thing that clearly wasn’t meant to be! Jesus Christ boys, it ain’t rocket science. If an ugly old prick like me can land a beautiful gal like Meaghan than there’s hope for all of us, ain’t there? And at the very least, the rest of us won’t have to keep looking at your miserable fucking faces every single day and _that’s_ got to be blessing, hasn’t it?”

“Ya know, you do make a point…” Adrian said, looking thoughtfully towards the ground. I could just about see the cogs whirring in his head; working to translate thoughts into what was likely to be physical action at some point down the track. And though I myself hadn’t asked the question, I too had been wondering and faltering on the ‘what if’ scenarios, which had so far kept me from ever progressing any further with Eve.

Perhaps Meyer was right and the time for playing it careful had long since come to pass. With Adrian and the Reporter however, this was a little more straightforward; Piper wasn’t mourning the loss of her romantic spouse. Eve had other barriers in place, _other_ considerations for me to take into account.

“You’re about as subtle as an axe to the side of the head.” I murmured, smirking as I said it but clearly not feeling it enough to have the forced emotion come to fruition around my eyes. Meyer looked at me thoughtfully for a moment and then sighed, swinging the axe around so that the blade pinioned against the ground. He crossed both arms one over the other and rested them atop the base of the handle, leaning forward dramatically so that a passer-by might make use of his perfectly straight back like a table.

“I was married once, before Meaghan.” He said softly and my eyes widened a little to hear of him referencing the past at all. He was usually so private about the earlier years of his life. “Back when I was a Smoothskin. Kerryn, her name was. Now she wasn’t the most beautiful gal but I loved her like a Bloatfly loves shit. And that’s a whole heck of a lot.” He gave a short, bitter laugh, though the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Figured I’d found my _vita mia…_ the love of my life, you know? Only gal I could imagine settling down with and I soon saw to that, right quick. But… life’s got a funny way of handin’ you stuff, Hancock. Thought that if anything was gonna take her away, it was gonna be somethin’ big… Deathclaw attack, Raiders, Gunners, Behemoth… and goddamn if I didn’t train my body up every single day so that regardless of whether I had a weapon in hand or not, I could sure as shit fight off any sonuvabitch that came for her.”

He paused a moment here, eyes on me and not so much as straying until he leaned back, used one foot to kick the blade of the axe off of the ground and swing it onto his shoulder as he straightened up again. His gaze strayed for a moment then; back through a past that neither Adrian nor I had the means to follow.

“She was havin’ our first wee _bambino_ … Shouldn’t have been nothin’. Well, nothin’ the doc couldn’t have dealt with, so I thought. But somethin’ went wrong and the little one was all twisted up… Doctor tried to set it straight but the damage it caused to Kerryn… bled her all out everywhere…” His face flinched a little now and he squeezed both eyes shut for a moment; a man caught in the pain of his memory. The very worst kind; the suffering of a person he loved and felt responsible in protecting. “ _Gesú Cristo_ , she cried… cried and cried and cried… I felt as useless as tits on a bull. All my muscle, all that training, all the different strokes I could cut with an axe and there was nothin’ in the world I could do to protect her from this… stupid, freak thing.”

He took a deep breath then. Sighed as his jaw turned almost perfectly square from the pull of his drooping lower lip. I could only imagine what that sort of pain would be like. It was the kind I now lived in perpetual terror of ever experiencing; what I knew it might be like if anything was to have happened to Eve right before my eyes. Of course I wasn’t married to Eve and I hadn’t shared a life with her the way that Meyer obviously had with this Kerryn but it was the love… and the dreadful, horrendous feeling of impotence that came with watching the woman you love suffer and not being able to fix the situation. Because that’s what a man wants to do and will always seek to do, regardless of gender equity and all that. Protect the woman that he loves; his _vita mia,_ as Meyer put it. His everything.

Meyer finally turned back to me and had admirably marshalled control of his emotions. Tough fucker that he was. He said, “Lost both her and the _piccolo_ that same night. My whole damn world – scratched out. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers; though I knew from the look on his face that it had not been nearly so quick and so easy as that motion had been. “And it absolutely gutted me, _Capo_. More than words can say. Ya can’t… _put_ words to a feeling like that. The resentment… the anger… the disbelief. I kept waiting for someone to fix it, make it all a dream, take the responsibility away for having to endure it, when I was _way_ past all ability to endure. But it didn’t happen. Cremated ‘em both… took to wandering. Got into some bad, bad stuff and did a lotta bad, bad things. Came outta it lookin’ like this.” He gestured now at his face; his Ghoulified features and gave a sad little smirk. “I just lived in a cloud for a good god damned while. ‘Til I came to this here town. Hated myself all the more by then. Sure, I could live for a hell of a long time but I wasn’t havin’ no more kids. I’d destroyed that part of my world forever. And I sure woulda liked a big old litter to my name, man, I tell ya that much. I wasn’t searchin’ for anything to make my world better. I figured I was far beyond the point of doing anything other than puttin’ one foot in front of the other.”

And just like that, his features peaked up tight and high on his cheeks and he was grinning his broad, trademark smile; the type that almost looked a little manic but was a simple indication of his pure, unfiltered and genuine happiness.

“Then I got myself roughed up by Vic’s wise guys and the only shirt I had to my name got torn straight down the back. Didn’t fancy walkin’ around half nud for the rest of me days and hadn’t a cap stored away for any new clothes, so some of the lads directed me towards the old Warehouse; where some gal’s set up shop repairing and making clothes and all that. So I go marchin’ on in there and this bloody cheeky dame comes struttin’ up. You might know her.” He emulated a very uptight feminine strut to the amusement of both myself and Adrian. “And says ‘If you’re lookin’ for a place to sleep off your chems, you can reverse your butt straight on out that door. I’m tryin’ to run a business here.’ So I apologize and tell her it was an easy mistake to make; given that her abode lacked all the charm of your Diamond City surplus and looked rather more like a love nest for rats with loose morals. Can’t remember what she said precisely after that, but she shot back a zinger, I gave her another and we both eventually ended up in hysterics. She stitched my shirt free of charge and I started visiting every time I needed even the smallest repair.”

He gave me a very meaningful look now. “I never stopped loving Kerryn. And I never will, because being in love doesn’t mean it’s the _same amore_ for every person. You don’t just have this one feeling in one form and transfer it directly to another. Falling in love is different each time it happens, _capisci_? That person may fill a similar role in your life, which may even overlap with a feeling you had before. But you can’t lay it across the first feeling. You can’t erase the old and replace it with the new.” He smiled, seeing that I was slowly coming to the understanding of his point. “I still felt guilty. For a long time. And it was _years_ mind you since Kerryn had died. But time is irrelevant. The world ain’t fair. Sometimes, it takes away those things you wanted to hold so tight to that it kills ya to even think you might not be able to keep them with you. And sometimes it gives back; gives you another chance. Maybe years from the love that you lost. Maybe _a_ year or a few months. Maybe even when you are with the person that you _thought_ you were supposed to be with forever. Love ain’t about time. It’s about the _person_ who enters your life. Time only makes the feelings that little bit more difficult to accept. And that’s what your young Eve is going through right now. And you? My man, you are feeling just what Meaghan was feeling. She watched me struggle and resent myself and pull away time and time again…”

Meyer’s eyes were intense on mine. “She would hate herself for feelin’ something for another fella; because the one that you marry – they’re supposed to be the _only_ one. Falling in love again makes it feel like, ‘Well, if I’m capable of having feelings for someone else, I couldn’t have loved them forever just like I said I would. This is tantamount to cheating on them’.” He clapped me hard on the shoulder. “I went through _all_ this shit and I dragged Meaghan through all this shit too, so I know of what I speak, boss. And what I can tell ya beyond doubt is that it comes down to the person. I loved Kerryn more than I could tell ya and I gotta different kinda _amore_ for Meaghan now. I see them now as two loves that I had and how lucky I am, that I was blessed enough to _have_ such wonderful women in my life. Meaghan though… I’ll love her long after she goes into the ground. And I can’t imagine now there could be anyone that I would love as much as I could love her.” His smile took on a soft, sentimental tone and his eyes nearly flinched shut in contented happiness. “She’s a saint of a woman… my _Tesoro mio_. Patient, tolerant, funny… we just get one another and fit together well. She accepted that I was wounded and self-doubting and hateful of my feelings for her… She loves me in spite of the fact that I’m old and ugly and a Ghoul… she loves me enough to accept that I can’t give her any kids and she wanted ‘em just as much as I did.”

“Hey, is this a ‘I married the greatest woman in the universe’ bragfest or were you actually going somewhere with this?” I teased, lifting my lip into a satisfied smirk as Meyer shook his head at me and sighed.

“Yes _Capo,_ there _is_ a point.” He said, his smile still preserving patience. “My point is; I know firsthand what it’s like to be Munch. Gotta be harder for her though, because I had _years_ between losing Kerryn and then meeting Meaghan. However, I can almost safely guarantee you this; that if I had met Meaghan less than a year after I had lost my _caro_ Kerryn, I most certainly would have fallen for her without having ever tried to do so.”

I flicked the butt of my cigarette aside and crossed my arms slowly over my chest, tucking my jacket and waistcoat up against the line of my body in turn. I felt more than a little self-conscious as I asked;

“So what you’re sayin’ is… it… might be possible then. For us to be together?”

He offered a supportive smile. “Hey… I’m guessin’ you’re only shyin’ at the gate because you’re tryin’ to be sensitive to her loss. And ya should be. Goin’ after a gal in mournin’, usin’ her vulnerability against her… it ain’t right. But you and Munch…” He smiled, holding up his spare hand and tucking in all his fingers except for the pinky and thumb. He waved this from side to side. “You got somethin’ a little special, yeah? Ya gotta connection; like me and Meaghan got. There ain’t no play in the world that can work in your favor when it comes to a gal you’ve got _that_ sorta relationship with. Best advice I can give is to have an honest to God conversation about what the hell is goin’ on between the two of you. Name it up and work it out. Be patient with the way her moods roll, cause she’ll do things and say things that won’t seem very rational at times. Things she’ll wish she hadn’t said and stuff she don’t mean. She’ll resent you at times for her own feelin’s… assumin’ she’s got ‘em of course. But that’s why ya gotta have yourself the talk, _Capo._ Ain’t no shame in bein’ honest with a dame. Especially not a soft touch like Munch. And who knows; all goes well you could end up as plump and disgusting and happy as me and my better half.” He glanced over at this point and then barked out a little laugh, shaking his head to himself in mirth. “Speak of the _comare_ , here she comes now.”

Sure enough, Meaghan Scalice was carving a path towards us, a wicker basket perched in the crook of one arm and a steely expression on her face which suggested that she was on a mission and no one had best cross her path.

She was a striking looking woman; chocolate colored hair fluffed up into dramatic bouncy curls, skin as dark as Adrian’s with big brown olive shaped eyes, pouted lips and gentle touches of makeup. She had a particular kind of walk that Meyer always tended to poke fun at her about, because she always wore high heels. Even during the day time, when no one particularly gave a shit about appearances. Her balance wasn’t especially good though, so she always tended to totter about and weave from side to side more than walking in a straight line. Meyer often compared her to an angry pre-menstrual Mirelurk.

Meaghan was not especially ill-tempered by nature however. More often she was quick witted, sassy and partial to a good verbal joust, which is no doubt why she and Meyer got along so well. She also had a feminist streak that was nearly as evident as the Reporters was and didn’t much suffer fools gladly, nor was so especially responsive to the flirtations of the majority of the men in Goodneighbor, even before she and Meyer had gotten together.

Having once worked out of the home that she and Meyer shared, Meaghan had since taken up shop in Bobbi No-Noses old residence; using the now repaired and re-sealed basement area as little factory floor, with a number of sewing and weaving machines set up for her work. She had even been able to hire a few more experienced hands to work with her; folks from outlying areas who wished to remain in the Commonwealth indefinitely and were more than happy to contribute their skills to Meaghan and her quickly developing business. At the moment, their wages were substantiated by myself and the town coughers; which would be slowly diminished and pulled back when Meaghan’s profits had expanded enough to self-manage her own staff. With the growing demand for new clothing, linen and repairs however, I was confident this wouldn’t take long and Meaghan was a shrewd and confident businesswoman; far more than the simple pretty face that she presented to the rest of the world. Not that knowing this stopped us from appreciating her looks all the same. Goodneighbor boys are nothing if not connoisseurs of the female form.

“Can’t walk for shit but ain’t she a sight?” Meyer said, only proving my point as he sighed with slightly hormonal admiration. I had to agree that she was a good looking dame; the type that would no doubt have made other women very self-conscious about their own appearance. Eve had told me as much whenever we came to town, though she and Meaghan got along like a house on fire. Meaghan was especially fond of Eve and often made her clothing for her trip, such as the puppy dog slippers that Eve cherished so much.

“She’s a lovely woman.” Adrian concurred, who as a true admirer of beauty, knew quite precisely what he was talking about. He had rather fancied Meaghan himself, way back before she and Meyer had become an item but quickly back stepped when he saw how close the two of them had become. A truly courteous gentleman; unlike the majority of blokes in Goodneighbor, who would responsively up the ante so as to try and undermine Meyer at every turn. Fortunately for him, she was a clever, genuine woman who wasn’t so easily seduced or enticed. I knew that from personal experience.

“Still not sure what she sees in me most days. Wake up wondering if I’ve just imagined it sometimes but to roll over and see her… _dio mio…_ ain’t nothin’ better in the world.” Meyer gave a little chuckle as Meaghan toddled closer, almost going over on her ankle on one of the more uneven paving stones. “She’s my everything, lads.”

“Oi, _you_!” Meaghan screeched, close enough now for her voice to clearly travel to its intended target. One of her feet wobbled uncertainly beneath her on the slight incline and she took a moment to right herself, looking all the more pissed off for the rest of us chuckling at her. “Yes, _you!_ The lazy fucking husband who didn’t put the garbage out even though I asked him to _twice!_ ”

“Ah shit, knew I had forgotten something…” Meyer muttered offhand to us and then, raising his voice to acknowledge Meaghan called out, “What the fuck do you want with me _now, Puttana_? Left some of my soul behind after your last feeding, or what?”

“ _Last feeding?_ ” She scoffed, seemingly unfazed by the clearly offensive name Meyer had just called her. “Please. I got your soul, along with both your balls the second we got married. All that’s left behind in you is dust and improbable perceptions about your penis size.”

“My penis only looks small because _you_ have giant Supermutant Behemoth hands.” Meyer shot back, with resulted in both Adrian and I glancing off to the side so that we could disguise our laughter. “Anything would look small against those fucking catchers mitts that you seem to think represent dainty women’s fingers, _Schifosa_.”

Meaghan pulled a face at him that seemed to represent nothing but stringent, undiluted hatred. “You’re lucky I even _bother_ to put my supposed Behemoth hands anywhere _near_ your crumpled up little scrote, _facia bruta_. Especially since you haven’t been able to locate my clitoris for the past five years. That’s long enough to declare it legally dead!”

“Well, perhaps if you trimmed your pubic hair every once in a decade, I might have more luck with finding it!” Meyer rebounded smartly, by which point Adrian and I had just conceded to no longer bothering to hide our laughter. They were never serious with their exchanges, so we weren’t concerned really with offending either of them by reacting. It was kind of like watching a stage show when the pair got going. “No one expected Hansel and fucking Gretel to make their way out of the forest without a trail of breadcrumbs to guide their way!”

“Should be easy in _our_ bed, since you keep bringing the fucking dinner plate into the bedroom and eating while you’re sitting up in bed!” Meaghan all but yelled, which I imagine was a genuine, valid complaint on her part. “Why can’t you just eat out at the table, instead of putting fucking crumbs all through the fucking bed?! It’s all right for you, since you’re not the one who changes the sheets! You just waddle on off to work, shoot the breeze with all your chums, huff some Jet, do some Chark and come home with the rabid munchies and just filthy up all the clean sheets again! God, you are the most horrible husband who ever walked this godforsaken earth!”

“Well you’re an evil shrew of a wife, who should have been burnt at the stake with all the other witches of Salem!” Meyer rebuked, his voice peaking in what others might feel was a flaring temper but what we knew from experience was genuine pleasure. He had a little sparkle in his eyes and a quirk to the corners of his lips which said quite plainly that he was enjoying himself. “Not that _that_ would have worked because you, _cara mia_ are so fucking frigid that any flame that got close to you would just turn to ice and fizzle away!”

Meaghan pursed her lips together, narrowed her eyes and muttered ‘oooh’ to herself. The sides of her mouth twitched a little as she tried to keep herself under control, her brain plainly flying about from corner to corner as she gathered her resources for a second assault. Then she went for the kill. “You know that the only reason I married you is so that I could get closer to Hancock?”

This was not the first time Meaghan had made this joke as a means to try and upset Meyer. And this was truly all that it was; funny talk and nothing more. Meaghan and I might have flirted back in the day but she had always been one hundred percent loyal and committed to Meyer; so far as my knowledge on the matter went. He used to get a little upset at the idea that she might have preferred me over him but years after the fact he was now so used to the threat and so secure in his relationship aside that it never made much of an impact.

Meyer snorted, unconcerned as was typical and said; “Fine then. Hancock is welcome to you. Feel free to take my wife, _Capo_ , she is _all_ yours.”

“Excellent.” I said cheerfully, flashing Meaghan a little wink. “You shall be Wife number two in the Hancock Harem.”

Meaghan tilted her head towards me, twisting her lower lip down at the sides and wrinkling her brow to form an expression not unlike a spurned dog beseeching a biscuit from its indifferent master. “Wife number _two?_ After all the years we’ve known each other, baby?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Sorry love, can’t help that. I got myself a prospective missus lined up for the lead role. If you wanna join the John Hancock Harem; you’re gonna have to deal with being second fiddle.”

“Be more fiddling than I get most days anyhow…” Meaghan muttered, raising her left brow and shooting Meyer a telling look. He turned and stuck his nasal cavity into the air, affecting a haughty unconcerned gesture.

“Is there something that you actually wanted, Meg? Other than, you know, reminding me of how much happier I was before we got hitched?”

Meaghan twisted her lips and rolled her eyes up, sighing as though praying for patience. “Far be it for me to visit my loving husband during the day…”

“Oh piss off you wanted to come and visit me; just tell me what you’re after. It’s always something with _you_.”

“Well, _apart_ from putting the garbage out like you _said_ you would-”

“I’LL GET TO IT AFTER MY SHIFT, QUIT YOUR BLOODY BELLYACHING WOMAN!!”

“- I need you to head outta the city center and pick me up some Hub flowers.” Meaghan finished, looking undeterred by Meyer’s outburst as she held the wicker basket out towards him. “You can put them in this.”

Meyer took one look at the basket and scrunched his face up in disgust. “Fuck off. I’m not walking through Goodneighbor carryin’ that faggoty-ass basket. You can shove it up your clack.”

Meagan dropped the basket down to her side and lunged forward, thrashing the palm of her hand hard across his upper arm. “Don’t be so bloody stupid, it’s just a basket!”

“Go get Ryan to carry the ‘effin’ thing,” Meyer sniffed, rolling his shoulder up and away from her as she went in for a backhand return on the aforementioned slap. “I’m sure he’d look _darling_ with that swinging about his elbow.”

“Ryan’s more manly than _you._ And your shifts about to finish up, so you got more time than he does.” She closed the remaining distance between them with an impatient little waddle and thrust the basket hard against Meyer’s chest, giving him a slap around the top of the head just to make up for the one he avoided earlier. “Just for _once_ can you do as you’re bloody well told?!”

Meyer didn’t so much as move his arms from where they were now lazily draped over the axe handle and simply allowed for the basket to drop from his chest and fall to the ground, where we all stopped to stare at it rolling in a sad semi-circle across the paving stones. Meaghan hissed and kicked the basket back up into her hands and thrust it towards Meyer’s defiant face again.

“I need to milk the flowers to get some blue dye, _Meyer_.” This was when we all knew that playtime was over; whenever she actually used his first name in an exchange. First name and surname was when shit had _really_ hit the fan and that’s when we all knew to clear on out because this was when a genuine, fair dinkum argument was about to erupt. “Stop being such a fucking dick! I’ve got a shit tonne of whole new clothes to make and with all these people rollin’ in one after another the pressure is fucking on! I really need your help with this.”

“Oh for fucks sake. Give it here then.” He snapped, yanking the basket from her hands petulantly and tossing it into the crook of his arm. I knew that he wouldn’t have been genuinely annoyed at the request and was simply goading her as a matter of both good humor and principle, which I’m sure would have been obvious to Meaghan as well.

“Thankyou.” Meaghan hissed, not sounding the least bit grateful as she twisted her arms over her chest. Meyer waved a hand at her dismissively as he started to march away.

“Whatever. I wish I’d died in the coup.”

“Oh would you just piss off already, so I can have some peace and quiet?”

“I will!” Meyer snapped, turning about and thrusting the wicker basket to his side in a campy gesture that I’m certain he intentionally put on, so as to resemble a tantrum throwing child on the losing end of an exchange. “And I hope I get eaten by a Yao Guai while I’m out there and you feel really bad for being so horrible to me!”

“I hope you get _raped_ by the Yao Guai before it eats you.”

Meyer spluttered with burbling indignation, whilst Adrian and I curled in on ourselves with laughter. “Well… _good_! It’ll be the most action I’ve gotten in a while! And at least the Yao Guai will eat me quickly, rather than staggering it out over a long, torturous ten years of soul sucking marriage!”

“Well, why don’t you just move into the Yao Guai’s cave with it and live the rest of your life as some bears bitch?” Meaghan yelled back; looking completely unconcerned with the prospect of this actually occurring. Perhaps a little hopeful, if truth be told. “It’ll sure as shit help me keep the bedsheets clean!”

“Right now, it sounds very fucking inviting! I bet the _bear_ lets me eat in bed!” Meyer snapped, turning on his heel with all the drama of a teenager who’d just been told she wasn’t allowed to go out with her boyfriend any more. Just before he marched disdainfully away however, Meaghan called out to him in a completely different tone of voice than the one she had been using previously.

“Wait, wait, wait – hold up a second, hon.” She said, trotting quickly to his side and reaching into the pocket of her jacket. She took out a rectangular shaped tinfoil package, which she passed over into his hand. “You left without grabbing your lunch again. Seriously, get your head on straight, huh? You’ll be gettin’ dizzy enough in all this heat, ya can’t be goin’ hungry on top of it.”

“Ah shit, I _am_ a dopy prick today… _grazie_ _dolcezza_.” He said, his tone humorously calm and affectionate now as he took the package from her and peeled back one of the sides. The corners of his mouth peaked into his usual broad smile. “Roast beef and pickle sandwich, huh? _Tesoro_ , you know what I like.”

“Yeah I do.” She laughed, leaning up on the tips of his toes to kiss him on the mouth. I felt a stirring tinge of jealousy, wishing that shit like this could have been as easy for Eve and I as it was for these two. Not that it sounded like a simple run of things to start with, based on what Meyer had told me but it was comforting all the same to see the end results of what could be; given time and perseverance.

Meaghan chuckled as she leaned back and slapped her hand hard to Meyer’s rump. “Go on with ya now. Eat while ya walk. And for the love of God, _don’t_ actually go getting yourself killed out there, huh?”

“And deprive _you_ of the satisfaction? Please.” Meyer chuckled as he unfurled half of the sandwich and took a big bite from the triangular slice. He tilted his head to the side, as though confused and added; “You couldn’t even cut the crusts off for me, ya lazy _cagna_?”

Meaghan laughed and cocked her head to the side. “Just tryin’ to get you a nice curly head of hair, baby.”

“I don’t want no curly hair. Not on my head, anyway.” Meyer laughed and winked at the rest of us as he turned, munching still on the sandwich as he went. He made a big show of swishing his hips femininely as he walked, holding one arm out parallel to the ground so that the basket hung in a rather dainty fashion from his wrist. Ryan happened to pass by him from his patrol path via the Western Annex and he stared perplexed at the sight of Meyer mincing along with a girly looking basket on his arm. Meyer immediately turned on him with a narrow eyed, reproachful air. “What the hell you lookin’ Faglurkf? Ya wanna date or somethin’?”

Ryan scoffed, clearly not the least bit offended by Meyer’s words. As the two main Enforcers of the town, they were well versed with working alongside each other throughout the many years the Neighborhood watch had been in effect. And Ryan was hardly your sensitive, effeminate gay man in the first instance; he had a hide thicker and tougher than damn near anyone I knew. He wasn’t the type that I would be entirely secure in hurling shit at, that’s for certain. But then again, I had never known Meyer to fall short in a beef these past eleven years and I couldn’t be certain who I would put odds on to survive if the two of them got into it.

“Don’t fucking flatter yourself. Rather stick in a dropped meat pie than anywhere near _your_ ugly mug,” Ryan shot back, continuing on down his designated patrol path with an unconcerned little smile at the rest of us. Adrian gave him an approving nod, gratified I think that at least one of the Neighborhood watch was taking their duties seriously.

Meyer simply laughed at the comeback as he took another bite of his sandwich, waving the remaining crust over his shoulder in farewell.

“Doesn’t know what he’s missin’ out on, poor mug. All that gay has done gone straight to his brain.” He laughed once more as Ryan flung his single remaining middle finger over his shoulder. “Well, seeya’s later, fellas. _Cia amore_.”

“Love you too.” I called back, which immediately resulted in Meyer turning his head over his shoulder to frown at me and jab a finger pointedly towards his wife. Meaghan laughed however and gave him a light wave.

“Be careful, hon. _Un bacione_!” She patted a couple of kisses to her fingertips and pretended to blow them towards Meyer, who in turn emulated catching them in his hand and then with a inciting smile, slapping his palm to his ass as though depositing the kisses there. Meaghan gasped and whipped her middle finger up instead, to which he laughed and mouthed ‘love you’ before turning and trotting back up the hill; axe bobbing lightly on the bridge of his shoulder. When he had disappeared over the rise into the Western annex, she crossed her arms back over her chest and turned to me with a small sigh.

“Why I thought I needed a man I’ll never know. Must have had a weak moment. Oh well…” She smiled affectionately as she reached over to give me a little pat on the side of the arm; an expression on her face which suggested she might have found me wandering blithe, dribbling, devoid of pants and talking to a sock puppet that I had tied around my wrist with an old shoelace. “And just how have you been, dear John? Feeling a little brighter these days?”

Jesus. Just how many of the good folks of Goodneighbor knew that I was mooning away? Little gossip mongerer’s must have been thriving on this shit behind my back. Mushrooms, through and through.

“Right as Rads, thankyou Meg.” I said, pushing my largest, most convincing smile across my face. And though I didn’t want to be rude, I’d had quite enough of people feeling sorry for me for one day and really didn’t much fancy the thought of unpacking all my feelings for a long protracted female interpretation besides, so I made a rotation of my feet towards the Western annex. “Plenty of shit that needs doing however, so if you’ll excuse me I reckon I’ve managed to dally long enough.” I offered a little tip of my hat towards Meaghan and then waved my arm towards Adrian. “Catch ya later. BC? Try not to blow the bloody castle up or the Tops fellas will have our asses in a sling. And I’m hobblin’ enough with this leg as is, ya feel me?”

Adrian chuckled a little and slashed his finger through the air towards me. “Gotcha, boss. I’ll try not to do too much damage. Ma’am.” He added, offering a tilt of his own hat towards Meaghan before turning and heading off towards the inflatable castle; where Pattie looked to be in the midst of performing mid-air flying splits. I gave him a wave too as I turned to wander off, ignoring his return farewell of _‘SEE YA, VIRGIN!!’_ Meaghan gave my arm a passing squeeze as she broke away to head back towards the shop; a sympathetic little smile broaching her lips. For fucks sake. It felt like half the town was treating me with kid gloves at the moment. It wasn’t _that_ obvious surely? I mean, I was hardly running through the streets, rending my garments and wailing “ _I MISS MY MUNCH!!”_ at the top of my lungs. I wasn’t used to folks treating me so sensitively and I didn’t much like it. A mayor couldn’t afford to look weak after all; I’d have the Raider’s trouncing my ass in a New Vegas minute if word of this shit got around.

On my way back to the Statehouse, I passed by the stage area where Mags and some of the live band from Grand Lanta were setting up and stopped to take a gander. The ‘stage’ itself was a construct made of a slightly raised wooden platform; barely five feet above the ground in fact, though carefully reinforced at the base with cross beams. The band performed with live instruments, which was always something special to see because we sure as hell didn’t get a lot of this kinda stuff in the Commonwealth. I gave a wave to some of the members of the troop who I recognized from their previous visits to the town. The main performer; a fella I knew quite well by the name of Saul, was nowhere to be seen at this moment, though he was definitely in town. We had caught up the previous night over a few drinks. Maybe he was still sleeping them off in the Hotel Rexford; we had gotten into the hard and heavy of it, that’s for sure.

Magnolia and Kent were both crouched over a number of music sheets that were spread out across the far right side of the stage. Both looked just about as equally as stressed as the other; which was a rare thing to see because Magnolia was usually so calm and collected. She hardly looked herself on this occasion either. Having taken temporary leave of her singing duties at the Third Rail, she was dressed down from her usual slinky, red sequin dress and wearing instead a casual pair of baggy slacks and a trim blue blouse; the collar of which she was fluttering against her neck as she and Kent poured over the paperwork.

She still looked beautiful in spite of it all. Then again, she had always been very easy on the eyes. Thick dark lashes, full sexy curves and a voice like a kittens purr. Her black hair was straight, with bangs cut dramatically across her forehead hanging down almost low enough to sway across her sultry, bedroom eyes.

This was a woman whose beauty and confidence could send the most self-assured of men into a dead faint when she turned that sensual red lipped smile in their direction. It was of little surprise that Kent was in such a state all things considered but especially so if what Adrian had told me had some truth to it. As I watched, he plucked his hat off of his head and flapped it distractedly at his face; which bore an expression not unlike an animal that had been cornered by a predator after a long chase through the Wasteland. I mean, it was a hot day and all but damn… shit should have been more obvious to me from the get go. But the guy was a fucking nervous Nellie anyway. He dithered as a point of a habit, let alone when he felt genuinely anxious.

They both seemed to come to a conclusion that a break was in order and Magnolia gave a tired smile as she brushed her hand along Kent’s shoulder; making for the stairs down off of the stage.

“Take five there, gorgeous. We’ll try again in a minute, just as soon as I wet my whistle.”

If Kent had been a flustered, nervous idiot before, than this touch to his shoulder had only rendered him all the more idiotic and he just about sent the music sheets flying in his haste to slam them all together into some semblance of order.

“Sure thing, Miss Magnolia. I’m s-so sorry I’m messing this up for you…”

Magnolia turned almost all the way back towards him and gave a smooth, imperial wave; her smile not falling so much as an inch from her face. “Nonsense, you’re doing me a huge favour. Did you want a bottle of water?”

Sure as hell looked like he needed one and Kent seemed very aware of the fact himself. He gave a jerking, puppet like nod of his head as he finally got the music sheets under control and tucked them haphazardly into a manila folder he’d had resting nearby.

“Um… yeah, that would be terrific, thanks.”

Magnolia turned and gave me a smile as she stepped over to the side of the stage, where I noticed now that the Drinking Buddy had been stationed. I was relieved to see that the Hotel Rexford had come through with their word that they would loan it out for the performers to use during the day; since dehydration was a hell of a risk in such warm weather as this.

Took a heck of a lot of lean to get them to come to bat though. Marowski considered the Drinking Buddy a valuable commodity which allowed him to compete with the Third Rail for profits; something which had caused us to butt heads more than a few times in the past couple of months. Eve had felt horribly guilty about it for a while too, as she had been the one to bring the Drinking Buddy to the Hotel Rexford and hadn’t considered the direct implications of what this might mean for business at the Third Rail. She hadn’t been to blame though. She and I weren’t even friends at that point in time and she certainly hadn’t the means to understand the ongoing difficulties that Marowski and I had with each other.

Would have made life a lot simpler if the stupid old shit swallowed his vastly diminished pride and just sold the Hotel Rexford to me but he stubbornly held onto the last bit of power he had in Goodneighbor with an iron fist. He even refused my continued offers of support to refurbish the place, so that the rooms could be brought up to an acceptable healthy and comfortable standard. Which was one of the main reasons I’d just thrown my arms up in the air, thought ‘fuck it’ and signed off on the Western Hub accommodation. This would inevitably end up competing with the Hotel Rexford of course but the stubborn bastard had had plenty of opportunities to come to bat and he had persisted instead with being belligerent. It wasn’t fair on his clientele to expect them to live in the threadbare conditions he was providing and if he wasn’t interested in improving them then I was damn well going to offer an alternative, rather than simply rely on him to pull his act together.

In case it wasn’t obvious by now, Marowski and I didn’t like each other very much. And we sure as shit didn’t like to make things easy on each other as a matter of principle. He had once been one of the big Chem Kingpin’s of the Commonwealth; a master standover man who thrived on the enterprise of others desperate need for survival. Back when I had first come to Goodneighbor, the Hotel Rexford had been a flourishing enterprise where the majority of parties, people and activity could be found. Naturally, this was the best place to prop yourself up if you were turning tricks for caps and Marowski was happy to accommodate us. So long as we paid him a tidy profit for the use of his establishment, so to speak. We would have to sign in upon arrival and most of our activities would be carefully scrutinized by one of Marowski’s little ‘triggermen’, who would ensure that we coughed up a neat twenty percent profit from each of our engagements of the night. Slipping away was near to impossible, because the triggermen were so prolific then and Marowski was much more powerful; able to squeeze damn near anyone and anything for what he felt he was entitled to. A thug and a bully, down to the measly marrow in his devious bones.

That was before the coup of course. Before I had implemented very stringent rules regarding prostitution in Goodneighbor; that it was permissible if a person wished to engage in this sort of work themselves but that it was to be a solitary occupation. I had assigned Neighborhood Watch to one or two women who had chosen to work in the industry at some point or another but they received a wage from me and were entitled to nothing from the working gal herself. There would be no extortion; no pimps, no profits and no exploitation.

This had sliced a major hole in Marowski’s monetary underbelly; one which he had been unable to staunch all these long years since. He had always been a dangerous person to have around however and with his persisting loyalty from his personal taskforce, the Triggermen, he would have power enough to attempt to seize control of Goodneighbor if he thought his precious commodities and privileges were being drained away.

I think he had come close to considering it as well and had attempted to flex his muscles at me a few times in those earlier days; trying to unnerve and undermine me where possible. But then Pattie of all people had caught wind of a little something; not two years following the coup, when he had snuck himself into a nook in the Hotel Rexford’s alleyway to shoot up after one of his shifts. It had only been gossip between some of the Triggermen, who had been turning over some poor drifter for their belongings and Pattie, rather than intervene and let on that he had heard their conversation, swallowed his feelings on the matter and hightailed it back to me instead. A narrow window of opportunity had presented itself and I had quickly made my dash for the Hotel Rexford, right past a very startled old Clair Hutchin’s and straight into Marowski’s personal bedroom. Could have turned out very bad for me if Pattie had gotten his wires crossed but sure as sure, he had been one hundred percent on the ball.

As had Marowski been when I burst in on him. And the fourteen year old daughter of one our regular traders who was in town on business. She had reportedly consented to the encounter but so far as I was concerned, she was a fucking child and vulnerable because of her physical immaturity alone. (This is irrespective of the fact that I myself had lost my virginity at the same age but it certainly hadn’t been to someone in their fucking _forties_ , for Christ’s sake).

The dirty old shit had trotted out most of the excuses you could expect and if I’d had any true concerns with decency at the time I should have just dispensed with the convenience of the discovery and beaten his legs out from underneath him. Instead, I rationalized that I could both make use of this little encounter to keep Marowski’s desire for ambitions firmly neutered, whilst also protecting the interests of the naïve and susceptible young girl he had lured in with a combination of pretty things and Chems.

You can be damn sure Marowski hated me for it as well. I never used the exact words of the discovery to remind him of it but I sure as hell liked to trot out a throwaway reference on occasion; all to keep him toeing the line whenever he looked on the verge of so much as giving lip, let alone inciting a full-fledged rebellion. The sting of being found out had firmly sucked all the wind from his sails and brutally emasculated him; to the point that he barely shifted from the Hotel Rexford on most days and barely threw so much as a party to celebrate a special occasion. He very rarely even engaged in the standard festive cheer that the rest of Goodneighbor regularly indulged in. I had trounced that big bad bully in a way that the spoilt, spoon fed brat had never been expecting and he had no resources or life experience in the matter to know how to deal with it. Other than resulting to a decade’s worth of sulking and petulance.

Marowski did however have a way of getting his displeasure towards me across by making life difficult for the fine folk of Goodneighbor; those who I felt responsible in delivering good service to. I, for one, didn’t see the point in dragging other folks into our disputes and it was in direct violation of my most intrinsic morals besides. Marowski just saw it as an opportunity to make me look stupid and lacking in authority by the little thumbs of the nose that he offered up occasionally. Passive aggressive spineless bullshit… but I digress. He had come through on the damn Drinking Buddy at least, which would save me a few good minutes of my life that I would have otherwise lost by having to march into his squeezy little office at the back of the hotel and argue the rub with him.

Magnolia sighed as she knelt down towards the Drinking Buddy and issued her order of two bottled waters into its speaker interface. Straightening up, she ran a hand through her hair, barely disturbing the thick black tresses as she did. A light speckling of sweat glimmered around the sides of her neck; just beneath the curve of her jaw. Not that this minor factor detracted in any way from her loveliness.

“How’s it all going?” I asked, resting my arm on top of the Drinking Buddy so that I could shake my left leg out. It was aching a bit from all the walking I had been doing and my hip had started rub and creak in the socket, in a way that made me think that the cartilage was wearing a bit thin in my older age. Never mind what the Ghoulification and my healing injury was subjecting my poor joints to.

Magnolia flicked her eyes toward me and offered one of her usual, thoughtful little smiles. “Oh about as well as you can imagine, John. I’m sure I’ll have these new songs down pat come tomorrow night but it’s just the tiniest bit stressful at the moment.”

“Would you like to… hear a… joke?” The Drinking Buddy interjected; its components still whirring as it searched about its internals for the bottled water that I could only suppose must have been stored in there somewhere. I could only hope the kids hadn’t gone too Gung-ho with the beers today because I was hankering like mad for one to take the edge off of my dry and ravaged mouth. The cigs may have been helping to keep the stress down but it sure as shit made my mouth feel as though I had been sucking on the end of a Mister Handy’s vacuum nozzle. ‘Specially on a hot day like this.

“No thankyou, sugar.” Magnolia replied, her smile looking the slightest bit strained now. Judging from the run of makeup around her eyes, I think she had been putting herself to work long and hard under the afternoon heat and was well overdue for a drink. “Just the water for now. Please.”

“Listen,” I said, tapping my finger atop the Drinking Buddy as it finally dispelled one of the bottles of water into Magnolia’s waiting hand. “I had a word with BC about nicking off on you. Kids a bit… preoccupied, case you couldn’t guess. Should be back to make amends in short order.”

Magnolia gave a tolerant little smile as she tucked the first water under her arm; flinching a little as the cold plastic of the bottle made contact with her bare flesh. “Hmm… matters of the heart and all that? Girl can relate.” She gave me a coy little smile as she caught the second bottle in her hand and straightened back up, twisting at the cap as she did. “But then… I imagine _you_ know all about that, don’t you?”

I smiled a little, knowing precisely where she was coming from and having the good grace to at least feel a little ashamed of myself. Of all the people in this town, it was Magnolia who had most rights to this conversation with me and who possessed the most relevant information besides.

“What; you gonna start in on me now, too?” I muttered, shuffling in my pocket for a couple of caps which I counted carefully before leaning over to shove them in the modified compartment of the Drinking Buddy; issuing a, “Gwinnet. Lager” into the speaker interface. Bottled water might have been free but the Hotel Rexford sure as shit wasn’t going to screw itself over by giving the grog away for free. Which is fair enough. I had lowered my prices in the Third Rail for the Christmas Fete and on the night, put five grands worth of caps over the bar to cover drinks for the start of the evening, which ultimately didn’t run me down in the pocket too much. But to give away any more than this for free in Goodneighbor? There was more to factor in than just cost and profit here. The streets would be paved in vomit for one.

Magnolia gave me a long, knowing look as she finally unscrewed the cap from the top of her water. “Oh… come now, Hancock. I know firsthand how bad you can be for a girl.” She tilted the now exposed top of the water bottle towards me, her gaze slightly admonishing. “I just hope you ain’t plannin’ on screwin’ around with this one’s feelings.”

I gave a long sigh as I dragged out my cold bottle of beer from the hatch of the Drinking Buddy and twisted off the cap; using my first gulp as an excuse for delaying my response. The malty liquid had a robust flavor, which I found held more of a kick than the Pale’s and Pilsner’s. Tasted like bloody Heaven on a hot day too and I found myself genuinely distracted in my desire to throw down a few more hearty gulps; enjoying both the taste and the soothing quality the cold beverage had on my dry and scorched mouth. It was a moment before I came back down to reality and forced myself to properly consider Magnolia’s scolding words and I felt a little flush of guilt rise up in my chest as though to counteract the comforting flow downward of the beer I had just imbibed.

I had never really had what you might consider a long term de-facto partner but Magnolia would certainly have been the closest out of all the women I’d been with. And the only one besides Eve whom I had allowed to get close enough so that we might eventually wound one another. Though I hadn’t been nearly so considerate, mature or beguiled with Magnolia as I had been with Eve; which would shock a great deal of men to hear I’m sure.

We had first met over eight years ago, when I had come across her wandering listlessly out in the Fens. She was… confident and vibrant and seemed so certain of her place in the world, regardless of the fact that she was out there meandering along without a destination. After hearing that she could sing, I invited her to perform in the Third Rail and see how things went. All things considered, it had been one of the better investments of my life.

Magnolia hadn’t been entirely squeamish about being with Ghoul’s either. I mean, I’d still had to keep most of my clothes on with her but she had been for all intents and purposes a very involved lover. We had seen each other, on and off for about three years. For one of those years, we had been exclusively involved; though I think it had always been doomed to fail unfortunately. I had always been physically attracted to her but she was and still remains an utterly inscrutable woman. Her walls were built too high, as were my own, I suppose. I felt as though I could never really get close and this prevented me from entirely warming to her in the way that it might take for me to have truly loved her. And me, well… I was a flippant, avoidant, commitment shy little prick. And I had cheated on her on more than a few occasions. Though in my defence, (poor as it is of me to even suppose one might be acceptable) we had never had a conversation about being exclusive to one another and I had not known how supposedly serious we had been that year until Magnolia had suggested we break up. Which had been news to me, given that I wasn’t aware we were in fact in a serious relationship. Which said more about where my head was at during that stage of my life than her own.

I had never been cruel to her intentionally and had not treated her badly; or so I had thought. My failing was that I had never taken her own feelings seriously enough. But then, I never took myself seriously enough either. I never imagined that a woman might actually develop genuine feelings for me, which was why to this day it still took me by surprise when it did in fact happen. I would always seek to attribute it to some other factor in play in my life; my position, my money, my… whatever. It had never truly been about Magnolia at all but about how genuinely… negligible I viewed myself as a person. It was not her that I thought to be disposable in the least; but myself.

It was a conversation we had eventually shared; barely a year or two ago, in fact and one I wished I had just had with her way back when. Would sure as shit have spared a lot of hurt. But we had an amicable relationship now, which was all one could really hope for and for more than I deserved. So if the least she wanted was to get a little shot in here and there, then she was more than entitled to it.

“Looks Mags…” I said, having finally lowered the bottle so I could offer her what I knew must be a stupid looking, nervous smile. An expression, I knew, that was not at all attractive for a man of my age but the only expression which would serve to show her how serious I had taken what she said; that I could be self-effacing and humbled before her for the way I had behaved in previous years. “I know it doesn’t fix nothin’ but… I was young and stupid… and… hopped up high as a Bloodbug on just about anything and everythin’ I could lay my hands on. You _know_ I’m sorry for how I treated you…”

Her own smile said in turn that she too had meant no harm and she tapped my arm with the bottle just to reinforce this before she took a sip from the open end. “Wasn’t anything wrong with how you treated me, sugar. Just that you didn’t wanna stick around to keep on doing it. Girl gets a little tired of waking up to a cold stretch of bed next to her.”

I sighed, annoyed with the thoughtlessness of my idiot younger self and gave Magnolia a humourless little smirk as I took another swig from my beer. “Well… might cheer you to know that I’m well and truly gettin’ a taste of my own medicine now, Mags. And she’s a bitter pill to swallow, I tell ya that much.”

Magnolia raised one carefully contoured brow at me; which was the near full extent of expression she might offer up in place of another person’s more outlandish responses. “Really? I didn’t get the impression that you’d whisked little Evie off of her feet and onto her back yet.” She shrugged nonchalantly, tilting the water bottle slightly off to the side so that the contents nearly splashed out onto the ground. “Though I might just be listening to the wrong rumours, of course…”

I shook my head, negating her thoughts on that matter entirely. “Nothing’s happened between us. Nothin’… physical anyway.”

“Ah… but you would like it to?”

My smile had now started to feel the slightest bit strained, but I kept it arched tightly at the corners as I tilted my head to the side, swirling the rapidly emptying beer bottle about in a semi-circle before bringing the opening back to my lips again. “See what I mean?”

Magnolia chuckled in her husky, low throated manner; though she didn’t sound as though she was genuinely pleased with what she had heard. Which I believe demonstrated a great deal of personal restraint on her part. “Wish I could derive some mean satisfaction from that, darlin’ but I’m not so cruel as to want to see you unhappy. One sided love isn’t much fun.” She took another sip from her water; her gaze directed off towards the mid distance. “I hope you’re not just building this up in your own mind to be bigger than Ben Hur, though.”

Fahrenheit had said something very similar to me not so long ago and I hadn’t much liked hearing it then either. But now that another person had brought it up, the connotations worried me just that little more and I couldn’t just dismiss it out of hand before hearing Magnolia’s reasoning.

“Meaning?” I asked, placing a little nuance to my voice that should suggest to Magnolia that she choose her next words very carefully. As was her standard, she didn’t take the bait, though she was certainly clever enough to have picked up on my thinly veiled suggestion.

“You got real feelings for the girl, then that’s terrific and best of luck to you.” She said, shaking the open end of the bottle at me like a teacher with a ruler dictating to a spring disturbed class of prepubescent children. “However, let’s just say I have some… valid concerns as to whether these feelings are… how do you say, _proportional_ to the duration of time you have spent desiring her? And whether they are going to swiftly abate once you’ve had what you want?”

I scoffed a little as I took another gulp from my beer, wincing a little as I threw the cold brew down into my throat too fast and sent a chilled flush up into my sinuses. “That’s a pretty fancy way of saying that I’ll lose interest once I’ve slept with her.”

Magnolia shrugged, her expression unchanging. “Thrill of the chase and all that. You always got bored with things so quickly once you got your hands on them, John. And then you’d simply gravitate onto the next thing that caught your interest. You can see why I would be a little concerned, can’t you?” She gave me a little look now that quite plainly said that though she had forgiven me for it, she hadn’t quite forgotten my little transgressions of the past. “This isn’t a person you should be screwing around with; emotionally and physically. She’s a nice girl, for one and she’s going through some messed up shit, which means she’s vulnerable. Not to mention she’s a big tough lady, who’s liable to kick your ass, you go and treat her badly.”

I acknowledged this with a now genuine laugh at my own expense. If for some unimaginable reason Eve and I ever got into a physical confrontation, I think experience and more bullets would be the only thing that would favor me in getting one up over her. As a male, I was naturally bigger than her but she was still a gutsy, muscular lady, who could probably give most men a good seeing to based on size and strength alone. She could even take a punch like a man and this wasn’t on account of the fact that she was tough and accustomed to having to tolerate such behavior. Quite simply; she was built sturdy and had once been athletic enough in her life to reinforce her strong statue. I imagine that if she got it in her mind to punch me in the face as hard as he was able, she would almost near knock me out. Possibly break my jaw, along with her own fist and shatter all my teeth in one sitting. There were men I would sooner take a crack from than her. In a fight, I mean.

“You ain’t kidding. She wouldn’t be the type of dame I’d go messin’ around on that’s for sure.”

Magnolia chuckled softly before offering a smile of the same gentle nature to me. “Well… I’ve got my fingers crossed she’s worked some of that flight out of you, gorgeous. You sure do look like a different man when you talk about her, which has got to count for something.”

“Could all be moot at the end of the day, anyhow.” I said, shrugging. “She probably doesn’t even have those sorts of feelings for me. Hell, she may not wanna have any sort of physical relationship with a Ghoul.”

“I don’t think she’s too squeamish, hun. I see her latching her arms around Kent whenever she comes to town.” She winked at me; teasing no doubt. “Maybe she’s fallen for our resident DJ?”

I looked over at Kent, who was flipping through the pages in the manila folder with a nervous, distracted air and shrugged, giving a little nod of approval. Hey, I could certainly handle _that_ development better than I would if she rocked up hand in hand with fucking _Xavier._ Fucking oath, I’d have to take a Pipe Pistol to my own dick if that were to happen. “Well, he _is_ adorable.”

Magnolia chuckled, looking fondly over at Kent as he almost invariably upended the folders contents once more over the stage. Though he hadn’t seen us, it was likely he knew that he was being watched somehow and was thusly undone by a bout of performance induced anxiety. “He is at that. Boys been an absolute darling to help me out at the last minute. Now that’s a fellow who knows how to make a lady feel good about herself.”

“Careful, now.” I teased, taking my weight off of the Drinking Buddy and swigging from my beer as in the background Kent made lunging mid-air dives for the flouncing, coyly sashaying pages which seemed almost purposeful in their efforts to evade him. “He hears you talkin’ him up like that, the boy’s likely to burst every capillary in his face.”

Magnolia gave a seductive little smile as she flicked the trails of her hair over her shoulder, which she rolled over towards her chin into a seductive pose. “Well, how else is a girl supposed to know when she’s doing something right?”

“Would you like to hear a joke?” The Drinking Buddy once more interjected and I fancied that I could hear it sounding just the slightest more desperate than it had earlier; though of course it had nothing in the way of emotions and shouldn’t have been feeling personally shirked by Magnolia’s denial.

“Oh, go on then.” Magnolia sighed, giving into the robot drink dispensary’s passive aggressive demands to be acknowledged.

The Drinking Buddy gave a little rock from side to side; seeming to be pleased by her concession and then launched directly into its joke:

“Today a man knocked on my door and asked for a small donation towards the local swimming pool. I gave him a glass of water.”

Magnolia and I both took a moment to work this one through in our heads before we simultaneously snorted with laughter.

“Oh, man…” I groaned, rubbing at the sore weary space between my eyes. “Sounds like one of Munch’s jokes. Wonder if this is where she’s been getting all of hers from?”

“You know, it’s kind of ironic as well, considering all the talk about the Bathhouse and all.” Magnolia stated, referring to one of the construction plans we had in place which would hopefully allow us to put a bathhouse or communal pool in the downstairs area of one of the Warehouses that Eve and the others had assisted me in ‘cleaning up’. “Do you suppose that’s even possible for a place like this?”

I gave Magnolia a very prudish look as I took my still damp handkerchief from my pocket and used it to wipe down my face again. The day seemed as though it was actually getting _hotter_ if that was possible, despite it being a few hours now past high noon. “Mags… over two hundred years ago, a man was legally declared to have committed suicide by getting into his bathtub, crawling inside of a bag half of his size, zipping it up and then locking it from the inside. If that shit is possible, than _anything_ is possible.”

Magnolia cocked her head at me; one brow raised in suspicion. “I’m not sure you’re being serious… how is something like that at _all_ possible?”

“According to Munch, the police stated at an inquest that it was ‘most likely accidental’.”

Magnolia gave a sad sounding little laugh. “Gee, and I thought things were fucked up here and now. Guess there was crazy stuff that went on in the past as well.”

“Um, excuse me? Miss Magnolia?” We both turned at the soft, submissive timber of Kent’s tone and his gaze was so perfectly apologetic that the last of my strength wilted at the side of it. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your conversation but the gentlemen here have just explained to me that they haven’t eaten yet and we still have one or two pieces to get through…?”

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart.” Magnolia murmured, flashing him a warm smile that immediately sent him to flustering with his collar again and I was forced to turn my own head away so that I could chuckle without offending him. Magnolia saw me however and I got a smack to my arm with the water bottle for my efforts. “I’ll talk to you later, bad boy.”

I gave a little wave as she slugged her way back up the stage, handing Kent the full bottle of water that she had tucked under her arm. Though he still looked embarrassed, they entered into conversation directly afterwards and he seemed to be holding his own well enough once had gulped so desperately from the water you would think he’d been found wandering aimlessly in the Mojave. Magnolia certainly didn’t seem to be bored with what she was hearing and wasn’t demonstrating so much as an iota of disrespect or wavering attention. Perhaps the notion of something occurring between these two wasn’t such a farfetched one after all. Especially if she’d had her fill of bad boys after being with me.

I had dallied long enough by this point and so I bit the metaphorical bullet, so to speak and finally dragged my sweaty, aching hide back up the steps into the Statehouse proper. It seemed crazy to me that only eleven years ago, I had been standing in this very place, staring down at the hunched and sobbing figure of Vic as Fahrenheit worked to rip his severed finger from his hand. It was no less the same place in which Thomas had lost his life… the one among us who had least deserved it and who had most earned the right to live.

I had walked this path many a time since then; the stairs which we had once hurled Vic up, so that we might plunge him ever downward into death with that bloodstained noose wrapped tight about his bulging neck. The Statehouse had of course been my home since that time; though not mine exclusively. The upper floors were open to those Drifters who came into town and were unable to secure fast and reasonable accommodation for themselves. Fahrenheit had once slept there too, though she now had her own room in one of the since cleared out Warehouses that the Triggermen had made use of. Didn’t blame her much for that. Girl needed her privacy and with the expansion having claimed more viable accommodation options, she was now entitled to it.

The Old Statehouse hadn’t changed much since the days of Vic; give or take a slap shot repair here and there. The broken railing on the stairwell for one. But since returning from my year abroad with Eve, I had taken to the ancient abode with the manner of unforgiving verve that a Mr Handy might otherwise exercise in its’ more manic of moments. It had been shaped as a means to serve as a more professional front in my continued role as Goodneighbor’s mayor but also to provide a warm and secure home to both myself and… well, to anyone that I might invite to share my life at some point.

It was a sign of the changing times; the fact that I both no longer considered myself to be a perpetual ‘drifter’ as it were. I didn’t want to run anymore, to live my life in a continuing, never ceasing state of uncertainty and flux. I wanted to settle finally and unpack those tightly taped emotional boxes in my mind and unload all the baggage I had been carrying with me for far too long. And like a male bird who so desperately wanted to draw in a lady friend, I had woven myself a nest that was designed to appeal to the more practical side of Eve’s mind; hoping against all evidence to the contrary that she might eventually choose me as the man who she might honor with her love and companionship.

All the boards had been taken off of the windows to allow for the light to come inside; even those windows in the sitting area, which faced out towards the city proper. I had arranged for the glass to be reinforced twice over here; so that light could penetrate but bullets might find it more difficult to do so. Rufus had guaranteed that it would take at least two to three shots from a solid vantage point to crack that glass and by that point, there would be ample warning to duck and cover. And if this was not sufficient, wooden shutters had been secured to either side of the windows themselves, so of a night, they could be closed over to provide some extra privacy. Or potentially during the day to keep the heat out or provide some relief to the weary eyes of the Chem affected within.

The floors were kept uncluttered now and well swept, which had involved the hiring of a few folks from Underworld in the DC area. This hadn’t been something I myself had considered at first but upon their arrival, three of these chaps wanted to make themselves useful somehow and suggested that they might provide cleaning services for the buildings of Goodneighbor in exchange for a reasonable fee and indefinite board in town; if I was agreeable to it. Seemed like a mighty fine exchange, considering that I was at that time pondering how I myself was going to muster the will and energy to run a broom across the floor every other day.

The sofas had also been reupholstered, thanks to Meaghan and a number of her little underlings. They could just about pass for brand new now; not that I had ever seen such a thing in my time. Not to mention that the haberdasher’s had gone so far as to restuff the interior of the sofa’s; so that the cushions were now plump and soft and bouncy, which was a heck of a treat when you were dumping your exhausted ass into them at the end of a long day. Sure beat having a spring poke up through the fabric and into your butt cheek.

Rufus had gone to ground helping me set up the sitting area as well, so that a functional stove and countertop area had been wired in for ongoing use. There was also a working refrigerator, which I think was the most favoured of all the Statehouse’s newer instalments; with Fahrenheit and the boys who were on shift in the stairwell storing their lunches, drinks (and various Chems) in there. I had thought about adding in a proper desk for facilitation purposes but figured this might be getting the slightest bit too poncy. I didn’t want to give folks the impression that they ever needed a sit down appointment with me and if this ever was required that there wasn’t a big pretentious desk plonked down as an establishing divide between us. This would naturally fly in the face of the norms we had established regarding the deinstitutionalization of social classes in Goodneighbor. It wouldn’t do to go trying to establish this shit now.

Though of course this was nothing compared to the changes I had made in my own bedroom. Before taking off with Eve, my sleeping arrangements consisted of little more than a mattress with a few sheets and a quilt flung over top. A quintessential bachelors’ nook. This was sufficient to my own needs at the time and wasn’t suggestive of me trying to live above the means that I expected or imagined other people to be living by. That was, of course, until I was required to start nesting myself. This shit would have to change if I wanted a chance at bringing Eve into my life. I mean, a single mattress was fine to share and could be fun in attempting to do so but it certainly didn’t serve as a sufficient lure in inviting a woman to stick around for any length of time. No self-respecting lady wanted to curl up night after night in the filthy, crumb filled sheets of an old bachelor’s ‘bed’; let alone an old _Ghoul_ bachelor who smoked like a chimney, drank like a fish and whose sweat stank of the toxic refuse of the Chems he laced his life with.

It had been my little project whilst I had been recouping and Adrian and Rufus had been instrumental in helping me bring my ideas to life. We had taken the withered, broken frame of an old Queen sized bed that had been stored in the Statehouse and used its dimensions and measurements to remake the structure in its entirety; using supplies that I had purchased from the repairmen currently working in the town. The headboard had been the most difficult thing to remake, but after a fair whack of effort and sanding, we were able to construct a series of vertical slats, upon which we screwed, glued and affixed the smooth timber frame which sealed off the top. I had dallied with the idea of constructing a baseboard as well but it hardly seemed worth the effort; given that I was most likely only going to trip over it when staggering to bed drunk and Chem fucked.

A number of Meaghan’s employees had directed their skills specifically towards constructing and repairing linen; to the result that my own bed wasn’t the only one to receive a good tarting up over the past few months. With the assistance of a few tradesman skilled in the area, they were now able to graft together mattresses; with the use of new clean linen which had come in through a supply chain I had established with the greater DC area. The trade’s people were responsible then for interring the supporting springs and the padding that would be required to make certain that the mattresses were safe to use.

I had purchased two of these myself (Queen mattresses are, unfortunately, a little more difficult to make and the good folks of the haberdashery still hadn’t quite gotten the knack of it) and placed them on the bed frame; which itself had been positioned on the right hand side of the room that I had now officially designated my personal ‘abode’. To counteract the firm, crooked nature of the mattresses, I placed a cotton stuffed down ‘protector’ over top and tied the affixed bands around the corners; cinching them tightly to one another in the process. And then, under Meaghan’s strict guidance of course, I dressed the bed with a fitted sheet, a big plush doona with blue cover and jammed some matching pillow covers onto the three brand new pillows I had purchased. Meaghan took it upon herself then to drape some sort of decorative woven blanket on the base of the bed and throw a few extra cushions on top. She insisted that girls loved this sort of thing. I wouldn’t know. Beds a bed as far as I’m concerned.

Though I gotta confess that the bed had certainly paid for itself thrice over since I had thrown the whole thing together. Which isn’t to suggest that I had smuggled anyone away to it yet; far from it. But it was by far the most comfortable thing I had ever slept in; including even my own childhood bed, which had been little more than a rickety old cot mind but had been comforting all the same.

As a result, I was finding it even harder now to get up in the morning and this was exempting the horrible pain from my leg and hip besides. I enjoyed the support of the mattresses; the soft clutch of the plump pillows beneath my head and the tight, cocooning warmth of the doona. Though with the heat the way that it had been, changing the sheets had been a routine I’d quickly grown accustomed to. And poor Fahrenheit had brought herself to grief on a few occasions by storming into the bedroom to wake me up, only to be met with the site of my bare ass body stretched out across the top of the bed where I had been attempting to cool off during the night. Serves her right for just storming in without knocking. Though I suppose I could have locked the door to keep her out, but where’s the fun in that? Ghoul’s gotta have some fun while he’s sitting around, being a pathetic lovelorn fuckwit.

It was a treat to myself in many ways but also a means of demonstrating to Eve that my priorities in life had changed. A mattress on the floor is temporary. Transient and apathetic. A big, hulking wooden bed covered in tucked sheets and fucking throw pillows? _This_ was permanency. This said in no uncertain terms that I was settled; that I had no plans to turn tail and take off to parts uncharted. That my life was here and here for the long run. And that she was welcome to _be_ a part of that life, if she so chose. A bed of this size was a luxury to roll around in when you were one person, true. But I had chosen a Queen sized frame so that it might be comfortably shared. With Eve, if I should be lucky enough to win her over finally.

It needed to be brand new as well. Not simply because I felt that she was worth it; though she most certainly was. But because if she _were_ to decide that she wanted to be with me, it would become _our_ bed and ours alone. No other woman had ever slept in it; not on the mattresses, not in the bed linen, not even on the fucking stupid woven blanket thingy. Fahrenheit had once collapsed on it after a long shift around town and _napped_ for a little while but I didn’t quite consider this the same thing as actually _taking_ a woman to the bed. The point was that I had not been intimate with anyone in it and had no plans to be. This bed I would only share with Eve; barring her turning me down and my eventually trying to move on with someone else, of course.

The whole room had taken place around this ideal; the windows stripped of their boards and streaming cracks of light in the early morning. A few throw rugs upon the floor and some pictures on the wall of the seaside; boats and lighthouses and that sort of thing. I’d flung up a bookshelf in the corner and stacked it high with tomes that Adrian had donated to my efforts; not to mention some various magazines and the like. There was a mirrored credenza; about half of the drawers stuffed with my own clothes and crowned by a number of my creams, colognes and other manly things.

The right hand corner of the bedroom had been shifted about to form a somewhat cosy little sitting nook; with two newly fluffed and repaired sofas facing each other and watched over by the light of a standing lamp. A coffee table sat between the sofas; free of dust and stains and adorned with a yellow ash tray and drink coasters. I’d hooked up a small bar fridge nearby; mainly for booze and chem storage of course but also to keep a couple of small food items and whatnot. Came in pretty handy those few nights I’d been dry as a nut and needing to hydrate myself.

There had been a number of other changes throughout of course; including the segregating of two of the upstairs areas into guest quarters. (With the Drifters having now secured their own accommodation, I was able to make use of this space for personal visitors to come and stay). And the downstairs showers and toilet block had been done up and were regularly cleaned by the support staff who worked so diligently now to keep all the buildings in Goodneighbor spruced and looking natty.

It had been a hell of an adjustment period and one which had raised a few eyebrows amongst the general populace. I’m sure quite a few of them thought I was a sell out and disliked the imposition of keeping both the streets and rooms reasonably tidy and in some semblance of order. And if that’s what they chose to believe, well it was their right and I couldn’t do much to change that. Things _were_ a little stricter than they had been, that much is for certain. But the changes in the Old Statehouse were the only ones I had made which in some way accommodated Eve. The rest… yes, I had done so because with her support, I had seen the glaring inadequacies in the way I had been doing things all these years. Because there were weaker, physically and mentally disabled people out there who required support and needed it a great deal more than just those misfits and no gooders who were able to claim it for themselves. The smallest imposition of structure would hopefully allow us all to live safer, happier, more fulfilling lives. In a town that with a little extra effort, could soon be giving Diamond City a run for its money. Sans the bigotry and interred pomp and parade, of course.

I made my way up the stairs, nodding hello to Jack and Rob who were stationed by the bedroom door and sitting area respectively. Rob gave me a little wink as I went to push the door in and whispered; “Better and be guardin’ yer loins there, boss. Betta’s gotta mighty head a steam worked up.”

I smiled and inclined my own head in gratitude before pushing on anyway. I had known that Fahrenheit was likely to be cheesed off with my absence. There was a lot of paperwork to get processed at a busy time like this; namely insurance registers for the Fete stalls, sales permits, profit taxation, that sort of thing. Not to mention that each trader was required to register with the mayors’ office first and foremost to ensure that what they were selling was permissible and was unlikely to incur major, catastrophic harm to the wider community. Furthermore, each provisioner, their staff and stalls would be searched so as to prevent instances of subterfuge or potential terrorism. Some of the stalls had been used in the past as a means for Gunners and Raiders to attempt either a kidnapping of yours truly or to assassinate me and my own. Never worked out well for them of course but it damn near ruined a perfectly wonderful Christmas Eve and scared the shit out of a lot of the townsfolk too. We had hardened up a bit with our security requirements since then; mainly for the wider publics’ sake.

Fahrenheit hated paperwork at the best of times and especially hated the increase of it we had incurred as a result of all the safety changes I had recently implemented. She certainly would not have been impressed to find out that instead of heading out to speak with and peruse the influx of traders’ stalls to the town and check on repairs, I had spent the better half of the morning perched up in the Memory Den, reliving some of my past travels with Eve and the others. Subsequently abandoning Fahrenheit to the ever increasing bundles of paperwork which had accumulated as a result of _my_ innovations; barely any of which she had approved of herself but had been forced to publically support as my second in command.

So I wasn’t at all surprised when I opened the door to see her hunched over the coffee table in the sitting room; scribbling with furious, unconditional rage at the base of a page that crowned a shambolic yet towering pile of paperwork. The moment I stepped inside, her face whipped towards me and her expression was how one might describe as borderline ‘thunderous’. To say that she was sublimely unimpressed would be putting it far too lightly.

“Hello there, darling. How are you?” I asked, taking a casual sip from the beer bottle in my hand and smiling in a bright, happy way that I knew would provoke her temper better than anything else could. I’d always had a bad habit of pushing people’s buttons and Fahrenheit in particular I was simply unable to resist from tormenting; though it certainly wasn’t in my best interests to do so. I don’t know what it is about me, but whenever I see a person getting cross, I find it almost impossible to resist from teasing them and pushing that anger up even further. Explains why I was such an asshole of a kid.

As expected, Fahrenheit wasn’t about to tolerate any of my shit. The paperwork must have been bad enough to frustrate the hell out of her, coupled with my nicking off the way that I had done and the almost intolerable heat which had infiltrated the wooden walls of the Old Statehouse and refused to shift. She shot violently to her feet, slamming down the pen that she had been stabbing the paper with only two seconds earlier and foisted up a heavily sheathed clipboard that had been resting nearby. She stormed towards me, wielding this ahead of her stride before slamming it hard and violently against my chest; almost knocking me off of my feet and straight back out the door again.

“Don’t you even _think_ of trying to ‘darling’ me, _darling!”_ She yelled; her voice tinged with latent, almost hysterical venom. Sweat had carved lines through the dirt marring her face and her pale skin beneath was flushed a mottled pink. Fahrenheit never did tolerate the heat well and despite having shed most of her armour, still looked tired and uncomfortable. “I’ve _told_ you before to stop leaving me with all your fucking bullshit work, you lazy cunt!! Now check these numbers before I go and shove this clipboard right up your ass!”

I whistled long and low, impressed by the severity of her tirade as she stormed away; tugging a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket irksomely.

“Good to see you too, Fahrenheit. Busy day in the office, I take it?” I drawled, affecting an air of nonchalance that I knew would only piss her off more as I trotted over towards the sofa, dumping my jacket and waistcoat over the top of it before then depositing myself heavily onto its swelling cushions. There was a packet of Mentats on the table; a few of the foil blisters cracked open from where Fahrenheit had no doubt been slinging ‘em back in an effort to make heads or tails of the paperwork. I plonked the beer bottle down on one of the coasters before reaching for the packet, tossing two into the recesses of my mouth. I chewed them both into a thick paste, eschewing my beer for the moment. Mentats were bitter, it’s true but I liked to get the full, fast hit against my gums and this could be impacted by the rush of liquid used to push the uncrushed tablet down your throat. Little junkies trick and all, that one.

Fahrenheit gave an exasperated sigh as she lit up her cigarette and took a long, belaboured drag; no doubt trying to calm her elevated state. “Look…” She started out aggressively and then took another moment to try and corral her temper. She grunted with frustration when this proved pointless. “Ugh, do _not_ even start with me, you have _no_ idea how crazy things have been! Is that your _thing_ now; pissing off out the door and leaving me holding the fucking bag every time you get a little whiff of responsibility?”

“Keep your fucking knickers on, I have been busy too, you know.” I growled, sliding one finger into my mouth and using it to rub some of the chewed paste of the Mentats against my upper gums. I could already feel the breezy fog around my brain start to lift and my senses sharpen so that every firing nuance almost registered as a parting ping through my skull. All the better to experience the full force of being yelled at, yay.

Fahrenheit slammed both hands on the back of the couch, her eyes narrowed into sharp, unappreciative slants. “Oh like _hell_ you have. I know exactly what you were doing. You fucked off to the Memory Den so you could re-live some of those fucking sexless vanilla nights you spent with that soft cock from the Vault.” She leaned back, still pacing with pent up energy as she shook her finger at me; almost dementedly. “Don’t _think_ I don’t know what you’re up to, you aren’t half as clever as you think you are, bucko.”

“Ah, I see my secret plans have been uncovered. Whatever is a Ghoul to do?” I murmured, genuinely unconcerned as I turned a page over on the clipboard and trained my eyes down the revealed checklist. I never much liked wasting my time with being told off; it was easier for all involved to move on as quickly as possible. Wasn’t like I was particularly open to learning much at my age, anyhow. “’The DC Experience’ hasn’t arrived yet? That’s strange, I figured they would have been one of the first to haul ass here. I mean they’re pretty much right around the corner from the Commonwealth.”

Fahrenheit calmed down the slightest bit, as I knew she would if I directed her attentions back towards work and away from her own emotions. “I think they might have run into Raider trouble on the road and re-diverted through the Tuckerford pass. Least that’s what I heard from some of the other Caravan’s that came in from the DC area.”

“Poor bastards.” I muttered. “That’s a hell of a road to take. Not to mention they still gotta set up shop when they get here.” A glanced over a few more pages; noting that most of the reserved caravans had been checked off for arrival and had passed their security clearances in conjunction. “Just a couple of stragglers but we’re pretty much right on target. Nice work.”

She gave an unappreciative snort from somewhere off behind me. “You bet your pockmarked ass it’s nice work. No thanks to _you_.” She leaned over then to whip the clipboard out of my hand and waved it from side to side in a threatening manner. “Honest to fucking Betsy; you and BC make me _sick_ , mooning around after that pair of princesses. If I thought I could have gotten away with it, I would have cut both your throats right now and put you out of your friggin’ misery.” She rounded this comforting thought off by first drawing a line across her throat with the clipboard before then delivering a smack to the top of my head with it, which knocked the brim of my hat down over my eyes. 

“I’m starting to think that you might be cross with me.” I muttered, pushing my hat back into place and crossing my arm behind my head, resting both feet casually up on the arm of the sofa as I took another gulp from my beer. This I knew would not win me any favors but I couldn’t help it. Fahrenheit was one of the few folks in all the world who wasn’t afraid to stand up to me and could sure as shit give as good back as she got but I wasn’t easily intimidated by her temper; even now. Not after having known her as long as I had.

She was hardly recognizable as the little red-headed Melanie that I had trolled the streets of Goodneighbor with over eleven years ago. Following the coup, I had figured that she would stay close whilst we re-established Goodneighbor but had shortly thereafter taken off from the town on her own little ‘journey of self-discovery’ as she had put it. Upon her return, she had hardened up to the point that I barely recognized her; red hair cropped and shaved on one side, face firm and unyielding and in possession of a stoic, inscrutable demeanour which belied the once emotional and somewhat disturbed young woman I’d known all those years ago.

I had guessed that she had either joined up with the Gunners or the Raider’s for a short stint and used the experience to mould herself into someone and potentially ‘some _thing’_ that could be of use in the changing tides of Goodneighbor. You could never imagine the woman before me now as being _anyone’s_ victim and I often found it near impossible to reconcile this fact in my own mind; having witnessed firsthand mind you, the terrible grief and trauma she had endured all those years ago.

I remembered fully and completely her rapes and assaults; varying and constant and remorseless. I had gone with her to see the local doctor the few times she had become pregnant and held her hand whilst they terminated the unwanted children of her countless tormenters. I had been with her the day she had been told that she would never be able to have children of her own; because her womb was too far beyond repair. Left eternally void and scarred from a particularly vicious assault with a foreign object, no less. I had held her when she had cried and curled herself up and against me; as though trying to shield herself within the curves of my own body, as though my lines and flesh and cowardly soul might repel the nights’ predators as they sought her out time and time again.

As she grieved for the loss of whatever future life she might have offered this world, she had sought comfort from me with her hands and lips and I had responded with as desperate a need for respite as she. We had made love, cloaked in little more than the tattered rag that hung between the sleeping areas of the Drifters quarters. Her hands had been wet and soaked by the blood that still welled from the injuries adorning my back and she whimpered when I had probed the still aching and healing caverns within her. She sobbed when I had made my mark inside of her and I shed my tears into the curve of her shoulder; resenting myself for the fear I felt, because I hadn’t put on a rubber and I knew how many men had used her. I wondered again if I might be diseased. She too might have pondered the same of me, because her fingers had found the still blistered, screaming wound of the brand on my lower back.

I had been the last man she had ever been with. And she, was the last woman I had been with before I sacrificed my humanity forever. We shared that bond and the memory of that night as a not quite so guilty secret; knowing full well that we had only been using one another to assuage the shared trauma of our situations. Sex had always been one of those things in Goodneighbor; a useful salve and a good time, so long as both partners were consenting of course. And Fahrenheit and I did love one another in our own funny way; more like a brother and sister than anything else. Which sounds a little sick I know, since we did fuck each other but regardless. I even referred to her as my ‘main squeeze’; a term which she did not appreciate, as she felt that it undermined her in a town full of tough men that she needed to stay on top of. Acting as my bodyguard and the head of security would be a tough enough gig without the thoughtless, sexist backchat by most of the Goodneighbor crew but Fahrenheit was tough and capable enough to pull the naysayers into line and once there, they usually didn’t bother putting a toe across it again. This was a dame who would quite happily set your face on fire if she thought you deserved it.

I’m not sure whether the fact that she now considered herself to be a gay woman had something to do with how the boys in the Neighborhood watch perceived her. Whether they took her that slightest bit more seriously because of her tomboyish attitude and shared love of cooch, I can’t say. I hope not, because women should be accorded respect in their role regardless of their sexual orientation but there were of course some fella’s out there that weren’t quite convinced of that fact. Mores the pity for ‘em.

And despite having been with men in the past, Fahrenheit quite openly expressed singular interest in women, so far as her preference went for sexual partners. Though she herself admitted that she wasn’t entirely sure this would be the case if she hadn’t gone through so much trauma with men in her youth. She found herself turned off by the idea of being with a male partner and confessed to enjoying the company of women more; if not in conversation, then in the bedroom especially. They were softer, she said. Safer usually and less likely to try to overpower or wound you. Being fucked by a man simply brought back too many memories and made her feel sick and frightened and out of control once more. A sentiment I could certainly agree with. Not that Fahrenheit and I shared the same taste in women, apparently.

“Cross?! _Cross_? Cross doesn’t begin to cover it!” She was yelling at me now, standing at the end of the sofa and slashing the clipboard back and across the top of my boots like an errant maid angrily dusting a credenza. “Somehow, _your_ unrequited hard on for this stupid chick is fucking _me_ in the ass! And I don’t appreciate it!” She rounded this off with such a hard smack that it now knocked my feet directly onto the floor. I went with the flow of it, swinging myself around on my ass so that I could lean over and place my now empty beer bottle onto the tabletop before leaning back and looping my arms up over the back of the couch. I gave her a long, telling look from beneath the peak of my hat.

“Fahrenheit, my dear girl… if you wanted me all to yourself, there were plenty of chances before now to have made your feelings known.” I murmured, using my most smooth and charming voice as I reached out to touch my fingertips to the back of her wrist. “Jealousy is a very unbecoming trait, you know…”

Fahrenheit clenched both fists, unleashing a growl of unbridled rage as she took a few steps forward, reaching out with claw shaped hands as though fully intending to strangle me. I ducked my head out of the way in time and shuffled to the other end of the sofa, laughing at the look on her face. Fahrenheit normally had everyone else on edge with her seemingly unflappable attitude but I and I alone could usually drive her to pointless, blithering hysterics simply by knowing what buttons to push. Let’s just say you learn these little tricks when you have a brother like McDonough.

“Get bent.” She snapped, settling for a lash to the top of the sofa as she turned and sank her weight against the benchtop nearby; sucking in another drag of her smoke. “Last thing I would ever want is _you_ or _anyone_ with a dick coming near me ever again. Rather jam a fork in my ear and give it a few hard twists.” She heaved out a puff of smoke and used the lit cigarette to gesture uncaringly about the room; sending a flurry of ash fluttering down towards the recently cleaned floorboards. “Seriously though, Hancock, what’s the go with all this shit, anyway?”

“What shit exactly – and I would thank you to have that cigarette on the balcony, please missy.” I scolded, reaching one arm up over my head, snapping my fingers and pointing off towards the balcony door which was located through my bedroom. Fahrenheit’s mouth predictably dropped open and quickly warped into an unconvinced snarl.

“See? That’s exactly what I mean! Since when did we ever smoke outside?”

I shot her a stern look over the back of the sofa, not appreciating the backchat. “Well it makes the rooms smell musty and tracks ash and butts and shit all over the floor. Jesus, it ain’t that far of a walk to get to the balcony, I’ll even come with you if that’ll help.” I made a big point of swinging myself up and off of the sofa, moving towards the open door with a flourish of my hips that wasn’t entirely necessary but made a good point of expressing my annoyance.

“I don’t need a bloomin’ escort, I can take myself!” Fahrenheit snapped spitefully from over my shoulder.

“Too late, I’m already on the move. Should have thought about that before you started arguing with me about the new house rules.” I called back, striding by Rob and giving a little wave now to Jack; the town’s only Glowing One, who was chilling out beside the bedroom door. Both of them looked amused by the exchange, as they most often were. Hey, the shifts in the Statehouse must have been as boring as shit, though Fahrenheit and Adrian insisted that it was necessary for security purposes. Least I could do was liven the poor blokes’ days up a little.

I stepped through the bedroom, pausing to swipe out a particularly large wrinkle in the doona cover on my bed before pushing open the door leading out to the balcony area. Shortly after the coup, we had replaced the double doors that Vic had installed to the outside with a single, swinging door and patched in the wall in around this. After my own little stunt with Geoff’s loaded head, it was easy to see how risky the double door scenario was. A single entry panel kept things that teensy bit tighter. Not to mention I kept it locked of a night; unless of course it was so hot that I needed to get a breeze in, which had been a bit of a necessity these past few weeks.

I stepped out onto the balcony and set to work rolling myself a joint; leaning both elbows on the concrete balustrade. The air was slightly cooler out here and much less stifling than the almost claustrophobic pinch of the rooms within. I gave a sigh of relief, pulling my shirt free from where it had been pinned to my stomach by the flag I wore around my waist as a sash. The skin felt particularly sweaty and hot beneath the band and I billowed the now loose shirt around myself, in an attempt to filter out the heat that was clinging to my flesh. It felt so good to get a bit of a breeze against my bare skin and I wished, not for the first time that I had the gumption to simply strip my shirt off and get around topless, like I might have done when I’d been human. Would have felt great in the stifling weather, though not quite as good as a swim would have been in the same circumstances.

My lips curled slightly, coinciding with my own indulgent little thoughts as a memory came flitting across my mind. A hot afternoon, not unlike this one… the cold splash of that supposedly secreted lake, a cheeky drink or two and a great deal of laughter…

And the little beads of water clinging iridescently to the tanned skin of Eve’s curves; backlit by the days dying light. Blinding my senses to the danger that the whole while had been watching, savouring as I had done… and intending all the while to take that which I had spent so long desiring for myself…

 

**_One month, three weeks ago – South of Poseidon Energy…_ **

 

It was perhaps a scant two weeks since we had departed the company of Archie and Dom and made our way further South-East; back towards Spectacle Island and the Mercer Safehouse. The weather had taken a strange twist during that time; roiling and near constant radiation storms suddenly lifting and clearing the path for creeping tendrils of unseasonal heat to wend itself across the land. The earth took on a particular smell; bright and fresh and not dissimilar to what Spring might otherwise emote. It made me restless, as the heat always did but with no current outlet for my repressed desires, I poured my accumulating energy into the task at hand. Supporting Eve in her search for the teleporter components and putting down any fucker who had the misfortunate to get in our way.

It was harder going than usual; given that the others were no longer accompanying us. There was a lot of follow up required after the trauma of the previous month and just about any and all available hands were required to make use of themselves in supporting the sixty or so people that we had rescued from that… evil rolling prison. Even Codsworth and Dogmeat, who I hadn’t thought would ever stray from Eve’s side had remained behind at her own behest. Codsworth had the skills and never faltering reserves of energy to provide care and domestic support with all the young people whom required it and Nick was making good use of Dogmeat in tracking down some of the family members; who reportedly came from outlying areas and further inland still. One family had travelled in from the farthest reaches of the DC area to be reunited with their daughter; which should give some indication of the degree of work required at that particularly delicate and emotional time.

Eve had gone so far as to encourage me to stay and assist the others but not a one of us agreed that she should set out into the Wasteland on her own; capable and determined though we knew her to be. She might have even stayed longer herself, given the alarming amount of vulnerable persons we had suddenly found ourselves responsible for but the situation was well in hand and her own child was and should always remain her number one priority. We respected and supported this but what we could not support was her going out into the Wasteland by herself without anyone to watch her back. One of us would be going with her regardless and it was almost unanimously decided that this person should be me. I say almost because Cait might have put up a bit more of a fight but she conceded much more quickly than I would have thought possible; given how adoring she was of Eve and how much I knew she would miss being apart from her. Turns out however that she (and most of the group, surprisingly) thought that Eve and I might benefit from some time to ourselves; even Nick, who I wouldn’t have imagined for a second would approve of a notorious scallywag like me being alone with the woman that he had assumed a nigh fatherly role over.

It was the most practical arrangement as well, especially whence considering that Eve and I operated in a complimentary partnership in combat situations. We had grown accustomed to rolling along beside each other in a fight, the way that smoothly oiled machinery clicks neatly together and pushes a dynamic further forward. We had learnt a long time ago how best to work together in such a way that our movements were near fluid and difficult to translate to another person; which would in turn involve an adjustment period that might prove fatal if a crisis situation were to occur.

It was a little sad to see the others go, I must admit. We had all bumbled along together quite contentedly on our journey and gotten into a ton of fun and trouble along the way. But I certainly didn’t mind the opportunity to spend some alone time with Eve. With only each other as a source of company and conversation, it was ever more likely that something might begin to flourish between us on the long road ahead. Especially without the others around to either impede progress or provide distractions.

In the little over two weeks we had been alone together, nothing had so far transpired… at least not directly. Something _had_ changed between us though; something far more subtle than the more obvious of dramatic romantic developments. I had kissed her forehead back at Archie and Dom’s and in her accepting that seemingly innocuous gesture we had in turn finally traversed that unspoken barrier which existed between us; one which had kept us that scant distance apart, even in our more tender and caring of moments. In the wake of that night, some of the natural restrictions that might exist between those who are simply ‘friends’ appeared to fall away and with it the need to apologize or acknowledge those little indulgences we shared. Every once in a while whilst sitting around the cooking fire, she might curl up under my arm or slip her hand into mine and simply keep it there in the clutch of a tight squeeze whilst we talked and shared our drinks. We were definitely touching a lot more than we used to and I think she was getting more and more comfortable with it. I was enjoying it too, though I continued to hold out hope that it might soon roll over into something else, of course.

But I was content. I was relaxed with the situation and unstressed by it; simply allowing things to transpire as menially as they did. I most honestly think that these few weeks we spent alone were some of the very happiest in my life. We were so perfectly at peace with one another. Wearing our limbs and joints out during the day with fighting, running and exploring and then drinking, smoking and laughing of an evening. Curling close to one another; enjoying the simple pleasure in human warmth and contact. I guarded her to sleep and she in turn watched over me when I needed my rest. I found I was taking Chems a lot less regularly, because I wasn’t needing to force myself to sleep, to block out the memories of the past when I was with her. I felt safe and secreted away, where I was judged by only her and her alone.

I felt no eyes on me; no expectations to grandstand or second guess my every decision or flourish the act of the ‘tough guy’ as a constant shield before my metaphorical person. And though Eve kept her own eyes firmly focused on the tasks that would allow her to track down her son and bring him home, I think she felt safe and assured enough at my side to both keep her calm and allow for some down time without feeling too guilty about it. It was kind of like a… little Honeymoon of sorts. A kind of blood soaked, tiring and often times stressful Honeymoon but a much needed break from reality all the same.

There were times when we were both grumpy as shit of course and growled and pissed each other off and then sulked our feelings away in short order but we never stayed mad for longer than an hour or two at most. We were two people who were very laid back and easy going and I think that she wanted to be kind to me, just as much as I wanted to care for and appreciate her. I fell more in love during those contented, peaceful weeks; desiring only more of the same and knowing it couldn’t go on like this forever. Not when she had the unenviable task of rushing from one factory to the next, seeking out those hard to find little components to serve in the Teleporter that even then was being flung up into the sky above Sanctuary Island; sparking and terrifying in all its promise and prospect.

Towards the end of those weeks, Eve’s face had started taking on a somewhat strained and exhausted look and she wasn’t sleeping nearly as much as she needed to be; unable to quiet her brain to a point that she could nod off, even with a few good glasses of grog down her gullet first. I took to massaging her feet and fingers when it was my turn to stay awake and keep watch; hoping it would relax her enough to pass out and this would work more often than not, but it took a damn long time. Neither of us was sleeping enough towards the end and rather than making us grumpier, I think we only stressed about each other the more. Eve looked teary a lot of the time and I was desperately sad for her; wishing I could just magic those parts she needed up out of the ground. Or failing that, magic her son up out of the Institute and drop a bomb back in his place, one or the other. Anything to give her some peace after this remorseless journey she had undertaken, without pause to really breathe or allow herself to heal from the murder of her husband. The poor sweetheart was simply running herself to ruin without even realizing it.

Which is why, after one particularly long and arduous struggle to retrieve another piece of select equipment for the teleporter, I thought I might treat her to a little break. There was a place nearby the factory that we had just muscled our way through to find the Military Circuit board and she allowed me to mark it on her Pipboy so that we could make our way there. With the hot sun beating down overhead, I prayed I hadn’t overshot my calculations because we certainly didn’t need to be dragging our sweaty asses all over sundry but after a few short minutes of poking around the general vicinity, we unearthed what I had been looking for.

A small, manmade lagoon named ‘Wanderer’s Respite’. Tucked away in heavily wooded area, where not many travellers were keen to venture but built at the base of a fairly steep and dangerous incline, which deterred most predators from using it as a watering hole. Those that did chance their luck, weren’t often able to survive the fall and needed to be fished out by a regularly dispatched maintenance team, who attended the lagoon about once a month or so from the DC region and a few affiliated settlements close by.

We were required to abseil our way down with equipment that had been provided in a nearby shack for precisely this purpose. This too must have been regularly replaced because I imagine that Raider’s often hooked it for their own nefarious reasons.

I had a great deal of fun at Eve’s expense with this. Poor lass was terrified of heights and even more terrified of ‘abseiling’ and rock climbing. She stood there, whining and whimpering as I tied her harness tight about her middle before hooking us both up the pulley nearby. Her shocked silence didn’t last long however and she started shrieking like a dismembered Mirelurk as I instructed her to simply ‘step backwards’ down the incline. Jesus, it wasn’t like it was a straight drop or anything… More of a sharp lean back and a gentle rappel until we reached the bottom. You would think from the way that she was carrying on that I had just asked her to jump off the top of Trinity Tower with a fucking handkerchief for a parachute.

Her reaction made it all the more difficult for me to provide a reassuring reference point, because in spite of my confidence in dealing with heights and well, just about… _anything_ dangerous really, I nearly let go of the rope on a few occasions simply because I was laughing so hard. Every time Eve took a little hop backwards, she let out a long, hysterical squeal and started beseeching God for help. I kept telling her to shut up, worried that her calls might attract Raiders or other unsavoury sorts but soon my own uncontrollable laughter was rendering that point moot as well. In one particularly memorable moment, the stupid woman managed to tip herself so far backward that her spine was nearly touching the incline, whilst her feet where left behind on a lip above her. She started immediately calling for help and I was forced to swing my way over to assist with freeing her trapped feet, upon which she arched her spine up and tiptoed her way carefully back into an upright position; clutching the rope so tightly I was certain she was giving herself burns in the process.

She called me a lot of foul things down that slope; demanding to know how this was in anyway a treat for her, questioning when the exact moment was that I had come to hate her, hoping I got random dysentery that was so severe there would be no Med-X available to still the inevitable cramps and ring burn that I was likely to endure as a result of the ensuing rectal explosions. Endearments, you know. She didn’t appreciate it much either when I swung back in towards her and bumped her hip with my own, sending her scattering all over the rock face like a spider on a hotplate, squealing bloody murder all the while. If she could have reached into her pack to pull her gun, I think she might have just shot me for that but she was too busy sobbing, calling me names that consisted of every swear word she had likely ever heard (and a few made up ones) and trying to get her balance back.

We needed to get down the ravine at a reasonable clip as well, in case someone thought to cut the lines up above and send us crashing to the floor below. I kept a firm grip on the rope of course, which would also allow me to sense anyone fiddle assing around with it up top but so far, I think we were the only ones in the general vicinity. Which was fortunate, because we were making enough collective noise to rouse a few graveyards worth of Feral Ghouls to our location. I couldn’t pretend I minded too much however; I was having a blast and in spite of all Eve’s caterwauling and carry on, I knew that she would have a good laugh about it when her feet were back on solid ground. I hoped so at least, because it would be a very awkward evening in a rather limited vicinity for her to have the shits on with me.

By the time we got to the bottom, Eve had in fact calmed down enough to allow for me to unclip her harness and from the expression blossoming on her face, I knew that she had swiftly changed her mind about how this whole affair was supposed to be a treat for her. The lagoon I imagined must have looked to her like a relic from times long past; surmounted by relatively lush, low hanging trees, a soft sandy shore and brimming with water that was about as close to crystalline as you could come to expect in the Commonwealth. A small shack nearby housed a filtering system, which churned the water and instilled chemicals at timed intervals. There was enough firm earth nearby as well to allow us to pitch our tent well away from the water and I pointed out that there was a secondary exit from the lagoon via a partial mounted pulley system; which would lift us just high enough up the face of the nearby cliff to then access a maintenance tunnel and return to above ground. The pulley was required to be lowered immediately after use and the exit hatch from the tunnel could only be accessed from within and not from the outside; unless of course it was propped open by people who had already rappelled their way down first. This was a measure designed to restrict access to the lagoon and allow people to use it discretely whilst limiting risk from predatory sorts like Raiders and other Wasteland animals aside.

Eve had told me that growing up, she used to go swimming all the time at the lakes and ponds in the reserve that her father had grown up in. She had also swum in school and been a contender for some sort of country wide competition when she’d been a teenager. Long story short she loved the water and missed being able to swim here in the Commonwealth, because most places were simply too irradiated. So I knew that this was something that she would love.

Sure enough, after staring around in wonder for a while, she turned to face me with her big eyes dewy and a smile that looked so purely grateful and seemingly touched by what I had done in bringing her here. She didn’t throw her arms around me in the manner of a squealing dramatic teenager; I suppose she would have been far too tired for an expression of this magnitude anyway, but instead walked slowly up to press against me, sliding her arms up around my neck and allowing me to bring my own down around her middle. She held me this way for a few tender moments, permitting me to circle my thumb against the deep sway of her back before then moving her face before my own. Cupping my cheek with one hand, she smiled again and softly whispered ‘Thankyou’ before kissing the side of my face slowly; after which she pressed her forehead to the same spot her lips had just left. I smiled, relieved that she was happy and we stood there a while longer; boots buried in the soft sand of the shore and rocking gently to the tuneless solace of the water lapping against the stones which made up the lagoons borders.

After helping to pitch the tent in a fairly covered area and setting up a few little perimeter defences (trip wires and tin can chimes mostly), I granted Eve some privacy as she and a toilet roll made their way behind one of the thicker shrubberies along the shoreline and instead made my break for the water. Though I didn’t much like drinking the stuff, (I’m more of a Vodka man myself) I enjoyed being able to take a splash when the weather was warm. I stood on a rock nearby and stripped off everything I had on, tossing them all into a pile nearby and setting my gun and a few other select items within easy reach. Wouldn’t do to get too complacent after all.

Once I had all my kit off, I stood for a moment, stretching all the aches and pains out of my muscles and enjoying in turn the feel of the warm sun against my naked skin. I wasn’t worried about anyone seeing me, let alone Eve who had by now seen more of me than I’m sure she cared for. (Though she was too nice to say so of course). The rocks beneath my feet were rather hot and I shifted from side to side to avoid the burn, thinking it would be wonderful to just stretch myself out and get a bit of the old Vitamin D while I had the opportunity. The feeling of being naked out in the wild was something else; there was always the risk of being seen, the feel of the air and water and sun on your bare skin, the possibility of all sorts of other sexy shenanigans that might transpire… I sighed a little, wishing for perhaps the hundredth time that Eve and I _were_ in fact intimate. There were so many things I would love to get up to at this lagoon; toasting naked on the rocks, swimming in that cool clean water, making love in the sandy shallows…

Well, it wouldn’t do to have too many of _those_ thoughts; especially when I didn’t have a lick of clothing on to hide what effects these fantasies were having on me. Besides, the longer I dallied the more of a chance something was likely to go wrong, so I set to work checking out the conditions for myself. I picked up a good, thick stick that I had already rustled up before taking my clothes off and used it to sweep along the bottom of the lagoon, closest to where I was crouched on the rock. In the past, I had known some unscrupulous sorts to leave all manner of unpleasant things at the base of supposedly safe bathing holes. A bear trap for instance; which hadn’t been so rusted that it couldn’t do a significant amount of damage to some poor bastards’ foot when he had accidentally stepped on it. My trailing stick didn’t come across anything however and the water was clear enough for me to see almost to the bottom anyway. I wasn’t too worried about being sniped from above either; the team who maintained the use of the lagoon had many years ago planted hanging trees around the shore, to provide some coverage for people using it. The branches were thick enough so that folks would only be in direct risk if they were to swim out directly to the center of the lagoon and stay there for some time. There was also little risk from beasties like Mirelurks as well; as the shack nearby also housed a Pulse sonar, which was undetectable to everything but Mirelurks and sent them skittering far and wide. I doubt that any of them would have been so stubborn as to try and lay their eggs here, just to spite the shit out of the Pulse Sonar. It was reasonably safe to assume that the thing was still working as well, as Mirelurks weren’t particularly subtle with where they dropped their egg clutches and by now the parents would have been up out of their burrows and all over my ass.

Satisfied that everything was on the up and up, I tossed the stick away and carefully lowered myself over the side of the rock and into the waiting water below. It wasn’t quite as cold as I had been expecting but then I guess it must have warmed some from the intensity of the sun that day. Still sent a cool shiver up through my legs; especially when it cupped around my balls and rose higher still to meet my stomach. I took a quick dive beneath to get myself used to the chill, digging the feel of the water as it embraced my face and cheeks, irritated slightly by the streams of bubbles that jetted up my unprotected nasal cavity. It chilled the still healing burn mark on my chest and cooled off the fierce, stinging lashes that had been lain against my back, thighs and buttocks. Everything seemed to go so silent when you were beneath the water as well; as though the world has been switched off for the briefest of moments.

When I resurfaced, I swept my hands back over my head, slashing away the remaining water that might otherwise drip down into my eyes. Had to be extra careful of shit like this when you don’t have any eyelashes. I cleared the residual water from my nasal cavities and then spent some time rubbing myself down, splashing water up underneath my arms and scrubbing at the pits to remove as much of the accumulated sweat as possible. On a hot day like this, the cool water felt amazing and I gave a long, deep contented sigh of relief as I splashed myself liberally. I must have looked like one of those little birds that gives itself a bath in a puddle and just as pleased with myself for it too.

Eve trundled up a few minutes later, looking far too hot and bothered even in just a pair of baggy ripped jeans and a white t-shirt. Her usual lovely face was marred by a series of black and blue bruises, the swelling particularly prevalent around her left eye, which was flinched a little more close together than the right and around her bottom lip; which had puffed up considerably from the aggravation. The rest of her body I knew also bore similar wounds, though not many of these were visible at the moment.

She must have still been in a lot of pain but she smiled affectionately as she saw me wallowing about in the water. With a few wobbly little hops she crossed over beneath one of the hanging trees to plonk herself down beside the pile of clothes I had left there. She started to fold them; something of an annoying, OCD habit of hers and then her face took on a strange perplexed look as she came upon my boxer shorts, which she held up and stretched out, seemingly unconvinced that they could be what she thought they were. She turned and looked over at me with a scandalized expression; mouth dropping open in shock.

“You’re naked!”

I paused long enough to stare down along the line of my body; as though to check this and gave a little nod of affirmation. “Yup.”

Instead of being offended, Eve simply burst out laughing, shaking her head in mirth as she carefully folded the boxers and set them aside. “God, you’re a fucking weapon. Aren’t you the least concerned that you’ll-” She paused and placed her fingertips to her chest, affecting a posh accent not dissimilar to Codsworths. “- _offend_ my delicate feminine sensibilities?”

“Nope.” I said, flashing her a little wink from under my dripping brow before then adding. “Hey; you wanna see my impression of the great white whale?”

She tossed a twig over in my direction; fighting back a little smile. “Is that where you do a duck dive so that your bum cheeks are just visible above the line of the water? Because if so, how _dare_ you assume that anything like that would be of interest to me. And yes, of course I want to see it!”

I laughed at the unsurprising turnabout and made a big show of coming over all coy, pressing my curled arms against my chest and turning shyly away, as though attempting to hide myself from her. Eve was a classy woman; in the sense that she treated people decently and never made anyone feel second rate. But she was definitely a little perverted at times and liked checking men and sometimes other women out. She definitely had an eye for the human form which almost matched my own. She often wasn’t ashamed to admit it either.

“Now I just feel dirty when you say it like that.” I called over my shoulder, smiling as I relaxed my arms and turned slightly so that I could drift back further in the water, so that it lapped to just around my upper chest. Eve watched, looking a little envious from under the shade of the overhanging tree.

“How’s the water?”

I sighed happily as I splashed another generous helping of the good wet stuff over my head, whipping it from side to side to send droplets spraying out everywhere. “Fucking premium. Why don’t you come on in? Didn’t bring ya here just for the view, you know.” I made a little pose in the water, stretching my arms up and pointed out like some sort of Buffout addicted He-man, which wrought a little chuckle from Eve in response.

“Can’t.” She said, looking disappointed as she stretched her legs out in front of her and brushed some dirt off of her knees. “Radiation. Look shit in a swimsuit. You know; reasons.”

“Ain’t no radiation, Munch. Whole things manmade.” I pointing over towards the shed; where we could both plainly hear the distant humming of the filter still hard at work. “See that? Coupla bright sparks from the Capital Wasteland rigged this whole thing up a few years back. Regularly filters the water and flushes it out with a synthesized RadAway compound or somethin’. Takes all the Rads outta the water, the rocks, the soil… damn near everythin’ in the lake. It’s all there on that little placard near ya. Go take a look.”

Eve glanced over to her right, spying the bronze placard which had been placed atop a number of artfully constructed stones near the trunk of the closest tree. She swung herself to her feet with a groan and ambled over, brushing dirt and debris off of her backside as she went.

“’Welcome to ‘The Wanderer’s Lagoon’. Blah blah blah, all the stuff you just said… Commissioned by the Project Purification Team from DC as a means of supporting outlying areas on having fun accessible resources of clean safe water… And a list of rules…” She chuckled to herself. “Heh… Rule number two: No running along the outside of the lake… Rule number five: Swimsuits must be worn in the lagoon at all times.” She peered over the placard at me, admonishing from beneath her brows. “And there _you_ are, breaking the rules, swimming about all bare butt. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

I glanced all around me, checking out every far reach of the surrounding shore before raising both arms above the water in a helpless shrug. “I don’t see any Nakidity Protectron’s patrollin’ around here, do you? Besides, you do know that the water actually gets _through_ the swimsuit anyway, don’t you? Still gonna touch all my private bits regardless of whether there’s cloth between it or not.”

“Fair point.” She conceded, making her way back over from the plaque and plonking down by my pile of clothes again. One of her brows was raised in a rather questionable angle as she leaned over her ankles, picking at a few strands of grass that were poking up between a crack in the rocks hot surface. “Seems like it would take a lot of power and RadAway to continually filter out a lake of this size… what does someone just come along from the DC area and restock it every so often or what?”

I shrugged, not actually having an answer for her on this one. “Hell, I don’t know, kid. Need a shit ton more Mentats in my system before I could take a run at explainin’ _that_ … I’m guessin’ it’s powered by something that’s self-replicating or some shit. Might even be nuclear, ironic enough. Makes enough noise for sure.” I gestured to her arm, where the clunky old Pip-boy was still holding tight about her wrist; no doubt sweating up the skin beneath something terrible. “Check with your Pip-Boy if you don’t believe me.”

I’m quite certain that Eve actually believed me, though curiosity I think compelled her to check anyway just to see for herself. She leaned over closer to the water, waving the Pip-boy back and forth across the surface, where it would have easily picked up the presence of radioactive particles in the air and ticked to inform her of this. When silence was her only return for the effort, her brows rose slightly into her forehead in response.

“Well, would you look at that… reading’s clear.” She went one further, actually dipping the side of the Pip-Boy into the water and still getting nothing in response. “Hmm. Whaddya know? Someone sure as hell knows their smarts.”

I shot her a look from over the in the water as I drifted back far enough that my feet left the soft stony floor of the lagoon, allowing me to drift and gently tread water. “Ain’t got no excuses now, Munch. Come on in, have a splash. Feels good on a hot day like this.”

“Still doesn’t change how I look in a swimsuit, hun.” She said, pulling a face as she leaned away from the water and wiped off the side of the Pip-Boy. “Bleuch. Vomitus.”

“Oh, shut your hole.” I snapped, genuinely irritated with her for the comment. I might have been talking out of my ass if I hadn’t already seen Eve in a swimsuit some months earlier and knew quite well what I was talking about. I think she was self-conscious about her stomach because she’d had a baby but honestly, it was a pointless waste of energy because she had a body _made_ for a swimsuit. “You bloody kill it in a swimsuit. Besides,” I gave her a little wink. “Ain’t no rule says you gotta wear one…”

Eve pointed with an exaggerated laugh towards the placard. “Yes there is, you big slut! _Right there,_ on the sign that you keep choosing to ignore!”

“Munch my dear, if I spent my whole life paying attention to little signs I would have never found a toilet before wetting myself.”

Eve looked at me quietly for a moment as I turned circles in the water, enjoying the brush of the currents against all those near perpetually concealed nooks of my body. She asked; “Don’t you feel a bit exposed being out there like that in broad daylight?”

I gave her a little look in return now, wondering. “Are you suggesting I ought to be more tasteful because I’m a Ghoul?”

Her look in return said once more that she didn’t much appreciate me trying to trap her in what she hadn’t intended to come off as a prejudiced comment. “ _No._ Because you’re _butt naked_ in a lagoon the middle of the Wasteland is why, darling. You don’t feel a bit… exposed?”

I smiled a little as I dunked my head again and whipped it around, spraying water. “Sure I do. Ain’t nothing more freeing on the face of the earth.” I made a big looping gesture towards her, spearing water into a semi-circle that just about reached her on the shore. “But why take my word for it, since you seemingly can’t do that much? Come on, fling off those duds and throw yourself in. No one watching except me.” I made a point then of cupping my hands around my eyes and leaning forwards as though spying googly eyed and demented.

Eve laughed as she tucked herself away from the spray of the water, running her hand back through the sweaty tangles of her hair. “You are _so_ bad.”

I grinned as I tossed my head back towards the water, tilting over so that I drifted a little further away. “ _Come on,_ darlin’… ain’t gonna be too many chances like this.”

She continued to smile as she shook her head at me, crossing her arms in a decidedly prudish fashion. “I ain’t doing no skinny-dipping.” Her smiled widened and she gave a self-mocking kind of laugh as she added; “Actually with _me_ , it’s more like a chunky-dunk.”

I laughed at the term, though I of course did not agree with her assessment of being overweight at all. Not that I wouldn’t play along with her of course. “Well, go and slap on your swimsuit then, chunky-butt. Daylight’s a-wasting.” Her expression was starting to waver a bit and I eased up on the humor long enough to be serious with her, just so that she would know that I genuinely cared. With a few strokes I closed the distance between us and hoisted my arms up onto the rock, folding them over and resting my chin on the bridge I’d made as I stared at her long and good. “Come on darlin’, you deserve a break. Last month was pretty rough and you celebrated a bit of victory today finding that military circuit board. You’re one step closer to gettin’ your boy back. Least you can do is treat yourself to a swim on a stinkin’ hot day.”

She sighed a little, smile fliting back onto her face as she stared over my shoulder at the stilling ripples of the water I had left in my wake. “It _does_ look bloody good.”

“That it bloody is.” I confirmed, reaching down to wet my hand before flicking some of the cold droplets onto her arm. She reached over to rub it across her flesh, causing the blonde hairs on her arm to glisten as the water clung to them.

“You haven’t pissed in the water or anything, have you?”

I quirked my brow at her. “… No but I _can_ if you’re worried about it being too cold.” She burst out laughing as I put on an expression of thoughtful concentration and relief; the kind I think most of us guys get when they’re relieving themselves and swatted at the top of my head.

“No, no – don’t bother thankyou.” She glanced around uncertainly, biting her bottom lip in that sweet, self-conscious way that she had, which made me just want to bundle her up against the world in a blanket and build a mighty tall fence around her. “You sure it’ll be okay though? What if someone comes along?”

“Munch, we are out in the literal middle of bumfuck _nowhere_. Only reason I know about this spot is because them Rivett city folks traipsed through Goodneighbor way back when. Don’t reckon many people would go outta their way to swing by anymore. Besides, got my knife and gun right on that rock there within easy reach.” I gestured with my head to the now carefully folded stack of clothes she had arranged; beside which my gun and knife were carefully laid out with the handles pointed towards the lake. “Only spot a person could sneak up on us is through them there bushes but…” I gave a careless little shrug. “That’s just a risk I’m prepared to take, sister. Can’t live your whole life runnin’ scared.”

“Amen to that.” Eve said, glancing around once more with a careful furtive glance before then looking back at me. Her face broke into an indulgent smile. “Fuck it, I’m in.”

“Atta girl.” I said, beaming both inside and out as I released my hold on the hot rock and dropped back down into the water with a little splash. The coolness enveloped my chest once more as I paddled away, watching as Eve struggled up ungainly onto her pins and brushed her rump off.

“I’ll just go whack my swimsuit on and I’ll be right there.” She said, turning and gingerly hopping across the rocks so as to make her way back towards the sandy lip of the shore.

“Cool. I’ll keep any eye out.”

And watch I did, doing little more besides treading water and floating menially about the lake as Eve made her way back over to the tent we had set up. She crouched down first and then dropped onto all fours so that she could crawl inside, where we had stored both our duffle bags once we had safely reinforced our temporary canvas accommodation. I kept my eyes firmly on the cliffs edge, watching the still hanging ropes and flicking back occasionally to check around the tent itself, ensuring that no one was sneaking up on it whilst Eve was in a state of undress. It didn’t take her as long as I thought to get organized and a few minutes later she remerged from the tents interior, a towel wrapped tightly about her body and pinched shut over her chest. What a spoilsport.

She glanced about like a frightened animal before then making a dash back over towards the water, hopping madly across the rocks as though afraid that if she stood still for one second, a bathing suit critic might pop out of some unforeseen crevice and start making fun of her or something. A little amenities bag swung about in the crook of her arm as she came bounding over, which she then set down on the rock near my clothes, along with a towel that I suppose she had brought over for me. Her arm was bare, so I guessed that she had left her Pip-Boy in the tent.

“What, you plannin’ on shavin’ your legs while you’re in here?” I asked, watching as she stood there, head tilted back, feet spaced apart trying to catch her breath. She kept a firm grip on the towel, the scraggly ends of which came down to brush against her tanned upper thighs. I could see the swell of her breasts pushing out against the knitted seams where the edges met beneath her clenched palm; each breath almost threatening to part the bobbly material entirely.

She gave a shrug, as she finally recovered. “Why not? Water’ll keep me from getting all itchy with ingrown hairs. I’ll have a bit of swim first though.”

“Then by all means.” I said, gesturing towards the water and doing my utmost to look as though I wasn’t simply hanging for her to drop that towel so I could take a good look at her. Only managed this much of a perve a few months ago and I sure as shit didn’t much mind the chance to do so again. Hey, just because this was a treat for her didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy a taste of it myself.

Eve apparently hadn’t noticed my anticipation or was doing a good job of pretending she hadn’t seen it and kept things her usual casual standard; unwinding the towel from around her middle without any sort of reverence or ceremony. She folded the material it into a nearly neat bundle that she dropped onto the ground by her bare feet.

I think she might have asked me how deep the water was or some such thing but I may have ceased being a gentleman at that juncture and drifted instead to that hormonally biased state where a fella’s hearing simply switches off to further enhance his sense of vision. Which was a sacrifice worth making because good God this woman could fill out a swimsuit. Not something that you got to see very often in the Commonwealth mind you but she and the others had managed to pick up some bathing cossies when we had stumbled upon the _Cragenshore Spa and Hotel_ whilst searching for another piece of technology to add to the teleporter. Another interesting, slightly disturbing anecdote but I digress…

The suit looked to be in even better nick on that occasion and I surmised that Meaghan must have dyed it with some Hub Flower ink when we had last been back in Goodneighbor. It was two piece, colored a dark blue and with straps that were thicker than the strings which had tied Cait’s own selection together; a tiny slip of a thing that caused most of the boys jaws to hit the floor when she strutted out wearing it. Eve’s was far more reserved; the thicker strap about her middle clasping to the sway of her spine, whilst the one around her neck tied in a soft little bow. The cups of the bikini top were round, fuller than Cait’s had been and pleated across the center; pushing her already full tits to meet high and pert in a way I’m sure that a normal bra wouldn’t have been able to achieve. A small bow could be found right beneath where the cups met. The bottoms also had thick sides but they sat high on her hips and stomach, creating a neat line along the curves of her round ass, allowing a glimpse of each full cheek.

All in all the swimsuit managed to dance a perfect line between being both classy and sexy. And in spite of Eve’s fears that she looked shit whilst wearing it, this was in fact very far from the truth. At least in my opinion, though I might be the slightest bit biased when it comes to her. Women are so ridiculously hard on themselves; much more than they needed to be because most men, myself included, were often just happy enough to lay eyes on a naked woman and certainly weren’t spending much time, if any, looking at all the tiny little supposed ‘faults’ that a woman sees in herself.

Sure Eve wasn’t long and lean and petite but she wasn’t morbidly fat or unappealing. Her stomach was a little softer than the rest of her to be certain but for fucks sake the girl had carried a baby inside of it for nine months and she drank a shitload of wine besides, which didn’t distribute so well about the body when you did it of a night time I guess. And she didn’t have especially long legs, (another complaint of hers) but what legs she did have were strong and toned and her copper colored skin always made her look sexy as far as I was concerned.

Not to mention those curves of hers; good Lord a man could die happy on a diet of just that for the rest of his life. The swimsuit allowed me to see the sexy little dip in her waist and back, which flared out then to further define the round cheeks of her ass and the wide flair of her hips. And her bust, which already looked substantial in her everyday clothes, looked plainly heavier to me now; sinking almost determinedly against the cups of the bikini top. I wondered if the broadness of her shoulders might have helped with distributing the weight of them somewhat, because I imagined that this could strain her upper back without adequate support…

“Hancock?”

I realized that I had been caught staring and quickly lifted my eyes back up to meet Eve’s own, twisting my expression into something hopefully innocent.

“Hmm?”

Rather than look offended, Eve gave a scolding little smile as she stared down at me, hands perched firmly on her hips.

“What? See something that you like?”

I cocked my head thoughtfully and with a purse of my lips, made a point of examining her figure with the air of a haughty upper stands Diamond City asshole. “Not sure.” I swivelled my finger. “Turn around.”

Eve burst out laughing, her cheeks flushing a little as she turned to the side, using one foot at a time to push off the little white sneakers that she was wearing. “Jesus, _don’t._ I’m so big, it’s horrible. My stomach’s all lumpy from being pregnant…”

“Hey, don’t even go there, sister.” I scolded, flashing her a smile before then waving my hand above the water; my thumb and index finger meeting in a perfect circle. “You look great. You’re shittin’ all over every other gal in the lake.”

“Yeah. Might have worked if I wasn’t the _only_ girl in the lake.” Eve chuckled, stumbling a little as her foot slipped off the back of her right sneaker; forcing her to bend down slightly to adjust the tongue. She twisted her ass off to the side so that it wasn’t facing towards me when she did this. Girl just couldn’t let a Ghoul have any fun.

“Could be a hundred girls in the lake right now and I bet you’d be shittin’ all over ‘em anyway.” I said, knowing beyond doubt that she would definitely have been the one I would have been looking at the most. “You look absolutely edible.”

Eve chuckled again and her flush went down into her neck, so I knew that she was secretly charmed by what I had said but still wasn’t quite sure how to take it.

“Oh my god, you’re gonna make my nose bleed sayin’ that sorta shit…”

I laughed as I nodded my head towards the water again as she finally managed to extricate herself from her shoes. “Stop stressin’ and hop on in. Water’s nice and deep here. Wouldn’t recommend a dive but knowing you…”

And know her well I did because Eve’s first natural response was to jump high and far off of the rock, tuck her arms around her knees and perform a bomb straight into the water just over my shoulder. I turned my head from the splash, laughing as she resurfaced nearby, raking the long, scraggly tendrils of wet hair away from her face.

“Yep. Shoulda called it.”

Eve laughed and whipped her face to the side, sending the errant strands of hair slapping free from the clutch of her long eyelashes and out from the corners of her lips. “How’s my form?”

I ‘hmmed’ uncertainly to myself, pulling a face as I waved my hand from side to side. “Good tuck and curl, little too much splash on entry. I give it an 8.5.”

She smiled as she swiped her fingers across her cheeks, looking down to examine the trails of black makeup that now adorned them. “Damn… makeup is running all over the place now. Shoulda sponged that shit off first.”

“Don’t stress.” I said, pinning my index finger back and then snapping it down into the water so that it splashed up towards her face teasingly. “I’m the only one here to see it.”

The sight of which was not lost on me at all. I watched, feeling the need to moisten my mouth a little as Eve tilted herself backward into the water, churning her arms about in smooth, calculated strokes that sped her away further into the center of the lake. She came cruising back a second later, before I could remind her to remain as close to the coverage of the trees as possible. Her blue clothed breasts peaked above the surface of the water as she floated along on her back; the smooth, tanned mounds pitted with smallest droplets of water from where they had been previously submerged.

“Feel good?” I asked, tilting my head in admiration as she swept past me; barely churning the water at all with the delicate, cutting motion of her arms.

She let out a groan which sounded all too much like she was being touched for the very first time. “Oh, _so_ damn good. Glad I jumped in quick though.” She swung forward in the water so that she could stare at me now; wide eyed and serious as she added; “Tryin’ to wade into this, I reckon my cooch woulda gone into shock.”

“Bit like your tits.” I said, chuckling as I gestured down to the front of her swimsuit. “Might wanna give ‘em a rub before you tear a coupla holes in your top there.”

Eve pulled a face and quickly glanced down, checking to see whether her nipples were showing or indeed peaking the material of her bikini top. They hadn’t been of course; the cloth was too thick to allow this much detail to be captured but I knew that it would freak her out all the same. When she saw that there wasn’t anything to worry about, she snarled at me and glanced her hands hard off of the water, dousing my face.

“Why don’t you give _your_ tits a rub, creep?” She snapped, her anger quickly turning to laughter as I made a big show of rubbing my hands over my pectorals, pulling a face as though it felt intensely amazing. “Big bloody perve. ‘Sides, you woulda had me in here in the nud, if you had your way.”

“Hey, there’s still time to change your mind.”

“I never actually went skinny dipping when I was younger, can you believe that?” She said, twisting her lower lip up with a look of disappointed bemusement. “One of those little things I always missed out on.”

I gave a little shrug as I lifted my feet off of the lagoon floor and drifted along gently towards her, turning so that the back of my neck was able to touch the water and cool off a little. “I managed a bit more of it when I finally became a Ghoul. Radiation in the water never bothered me then. Can’t lie: It’s a pretty awesome experience.”

Eve laughed and winked at me. “Yeah, well you look pretty pleased with yourself. Can’t imagine the cold water is doing you any favours right now.”

“Well, I’ve got enough to spare.” She burst for laughing at this and I can only hope it was because she found the comment funny and not because she doubted my claims on the matter. Would only need to take a more focused glance down through the water to validate but her eyes stayed firmly locked to the parts of my body that weren’t submerged. “Seriously though, gotcha a little somethin’ to celebrate the occasion.”

“What? Of us having a swim?” She asked, quirking her brow sceptically as she turned a few circles in the water, trailing her arms slowly through the peaking waves she left in her wake. “Not entirely sure that’s worth celebratin’ but then I don’t suppose we never really needed much of an excuse.”

I pulled a face over my shoulder at her before turning and paddling back towards the big rock where I had left a few of my belongings. “Not of us having a swim, dickhead, for finding that thing-mi-bob today. Just hold up a moment and I’ll grab it.”

I pushed through the water until I had returned to the side of the lagoon and then reached both arms up to grasp a hold of the heated surface of the rock. My clothes and other items were placed a little further back, forcing me to beach my torso half on the stony shelf and resulting in most of my ass coming up out of the water in the process. Eve naturally gave a loud wolf whistle and I responded by giving my rump a few little swishes from side to side as I went about my business.

I wasn’t at all concerned with her catching these occasional glimpses of me anymore. We knew each other well enough to not worry about the odd bit of bare skin and Eve was relatively mature enough (and perverted enough) to not come over all coy and silly whenever it happened. It made me feel even safer and freer around her than I might otherwise have been; knowing that she wasn’t cruelly judging or undermining but actually kind of applauding my cheekiness in these moments. (No pun intended).

I worried more about her seeing the brand in my lower back of course, though I knew for a fact that she had to have seen this when I’d railed up on her like an idiot in the shower block those couple of months earlier. She never drew attention to it; didn’t ask questions or try to touch it. I knew that here and now the thing that she most likely would have been concerning herself with was the state of my back; where the Wrangler’s had reopened the marks left on me those ten years earlier. Where I had felt the press of her arms and her soft warm tears streaming against me as she sobbed and apologized and wept for what had once more been done to me…

Whistling at my backside was not only about having some fun but also a means to keep our situation light and to prevent herself from becoming too upset. I think it had hurt her to see me tortured more than it had me. Of course, I too had been more fearful and angered by the innate level of risk that she was in and more furious to see what had become of her soft, lovely face. The bastards had beat her black and blue, just as surely as they had tried to strip what skin remained from my pitiful carcass. We had never held one another so tightly as we had that ugly, dreadful night… Not a one of us certain whether those we cared about would survive. Or worse still; be subjected to what we knew the others had been…

I pushed the thoughts aside, reminding myself that this was our break away from all this serious shit and took another more determined lunge towards the little bag I had set down beside my clothes. I managed to snag the pleated cord in my fingers and I pulled it towards me; balancing my elbows on the rock as I yanked the bags opening apart and pulled out two plastic cups and a cocktail shaker. I gave the latter a firm jiggle to whisk the contents within before placing both cups carefully down and pouring a good helping of the pre-prepared beverage into each. When I was sure they were relatively even, I capped the shaker, set it upright on the rock and then grabbed both cups up in my hands. I slid back into the water with all the grace of a beached sea creature and carefully splashed my way back over to where Eve was treading water nearby. Her eyes had lit up expectantly when she saw what I had been doing however and she let out a little gasp as I handed one of the brimming cups to her.

“Jesus, _of course_! We are _way_ overdue for happy hour. Normally my thirst is quick to let me know if I’ve fallen behind.” She held the cup up to her nose and gave the berry red contents a careful whiff. “Whatcha put together for us today, darling?”

“Little cocktail I keep meaning to make for ya.” I said, wondering if she could hear how proud I was to finally be presenting this to her. A drink I knew full well that she was likely to go mental over. “We got ourselves some vodka, some Tarberry juice, some Mutfruit juice, pinch of your boyfriends Moonshine – ” She gave me a little smack on the arm for this. “– Nuka Cherry, Rum and a Grape Mentats.”

Eve’s mouth dropped open slightly, though she didn’t look shocked so much as excited. “Hoo! Rocket-fuel, baby!” She gave me a little look as she sniffed the liquid’s surface again, almost dipping the tip of her nose in it as she did. “Did you just toss a whole heap of shit into a cocktail shaker and just go for it or what?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Hell no.  My ma used to make ‘em all the time. Called it a _Fruity Astute-y_.”

Eve burst out laughing and slapped the palm of her spare hand to the waters’ surface. “Fruity _Astute-y?_ As in _astute_? Oh my god, your Mom sounds like a fucking crack up!” She took another third, much more involved sniff of the drink and shut her eyes with a contented sigh, rolling her head from side to side. “Mmm, it smells bloody good. What does the Grape Mentats do though?”

I made a swirling motion with my finger above the top of the cup. “You let it marinate in the mix overnight. Bit of extra taste and it keeps your reflexes sharp so you can get a real strong hit of the flavour in the bevvy. Don’t drink it too fast though. Damn things’ll knock you on your ass.”

“Here’s hopin’.”

I laughed as I held my cup out towards her.  “That’s a girl. Congrats to you, Ms Eve Hallows-” A pause for the lady herself to foist her own cup and make a big deal out of looking pompous and celebrated. “You are hereby one step closer to kicking that big bad Institutes butt, getting your son back and savin’ the day. Here’s to the sexiest, most dangerous MILF in the Commonwealth. Cheers to you.”

“Uh-uh.” She said suddenly, shaking her head and pulling her own cup away from mine before hoisting it higher. “Cheers to _us,_ darl. Cause this MILF wouldn’t have gotten far without her _own_ sexy MILF in tow.”

I frowned a little, worming one brow high up into my forehead so that I’m certain it just about formed a perfect question mark; seamlessly matching my confusion in that moment.

“What the- How the fuck am _I_ a MILF?”

“Come on, you’re kidding?” Eve said, tilting her head towards me and raising her own brows in a way that invited comprehension on the matter. “ _MAYOR I’d like to fuck?_ ”

I burst out laughing at the obviousness of the acronym, thinking all the while that it must have been a good sign that she considered me to be in any way fuckable. Perhaps things were looking up after all.

“Holy shit, what a terrible, fear inspiring name for a duo.” I chuckled sarcastically, holding the top of my cup steady so that none of the cocktail sloshed out over the edges and into the water as I laughed. “The _MILF’S_. Sounds like a really bad Jazz band.”

Eve laughed herself and then pointedly extended her cup once more, waiting for me to offer up my own before speaking. “How about the Dangerous and Dynamic Duo?” She suggested, squaring up her shoulders and tilting her chin in a commiserating gesture. “Cutting a bloody swathe across the Commonwealth?”

“And breaking hearts too, don’t forget.” I added with a little smile. Eve sighed, glancing off over into the distance as though lamenting a long trail of broken and disturbed people left in our preoccupied and or disinterested wake.

“Ain’t _that_ the truth. Poor Belinda.”

“Poor _Vadim_.”

“And Amber.”

“And random Brotherhood guy who wanted to fuck you in exchange for information.”

Eve screwed up her face. “I hardly think that _his_ heart was broken. Wouldn’t have minded breaking my foot off in his ass though. What a schmuck.”

“You said it. And don’t forget Xavier. That dudes only been pining away for the past two-hundred or so years.”

Eve groaned sadly to herself, looking the slightest bit guilty as she stared over the top of her brimming cup at me. “Oh God… are we terrible people?”

“Nah.” I said, tilting my head dismissively. “We’re just too awesome for anyone else.”

“True.” She said, pouting her bruised lips and giving a thoughtful little nod. “We should do the world a favour and put our awesome genitalia together and make awesome babies.”

Now _there_ was a suggestion worth backing. Though not one that I could see through, sadly. “Would if I could, love. They could cure cancer.”

She slapped my arm excitedly. “Ooh! And build rocket ships!”

I laughed, holding my glass up towards the sky above as though laying out the cosmos with the palm of my hand. “And solve the mysteries of the Universe.”

“And the meaning of life as we know it.”

“While winning modelling competitions.”

“And having _tons_ of exotic lovers.”

“With whole Islands named after them. That they discovered after re-establishing transcontinental travel and setting out on a maiden voyage across the expanse of the ocean.”

“They could solve String theory!” Eve just about yelled, clutching my arm and staring into my eyes, almost manic in her excitement about what our future theoretical progeny could bestow upon the world.

I held up my spare hand and started raising and lowering my fingers one at a time as though working out sums in mid-air. “They could solve complex equations whilst giving to charity _and_ pleasing two lovers at once. With only their pinkie fingers.”

Eve gasped and rocked back in the water, placing her hand to her head and emulating an explosion outwards. “Holy _shit_ these kids sound amazing! I’m actually devastated that you’re sterile now! We could have saved the world with our amazing awesome children!”

I gave a long, melancholy sounding sigh, as though genuinely disappointed at my inability to bring the fruit of my loins into wailing, diaper soiling reality. Their ability to establish transcontinental travel whilst systematically pleasing a whole string of lovers notwithstanding.

“I _know_ , what an ass of a thing. If each child we had had this sort of potential, we’d have a sort of like universal moral obligation to keep pumping ‘em out, one after another.”

Eve now pulled a face, her bruised lower lip twisting so dramatically off to the side that it formed a big meaty blue hill that strayed almost over onto her cheek. “Ugh, no thanks. Once was enough for me. Maybe if _you_ gave birth to them, while I did all the fun rumpy pumpy stuff.”

I laughed and offered her a little wink. “No dice, my dear. Seems we’re at a stalemate then. How about we just drink to us and our stand alone awesomeness?”

“Guess I can deal with that.” Eve said, grinning as she held up her cup again. “To us, my darling. Whatever the fuck we are.”

I held my cup out towards hers. “Daring –”

“ - toilet diving-”

“- Yao Guai slaying –”

“- heart breaking –”

“- panty flinging –”

Eve started getting the giggles at this point but continued on with the unspoken little rhyming game we had suddenly established. “– skinny dipping –”

“- raider punching –”

“- Super Mutant trouncing –”

“- virgin enlightening –”

She burst out laughing at this now but kept determinedly plunging forward. “– buttock kicking –”

“- chem quaffing –”

“ – wine sloshing –”

“– partners in crime.” I rounded off, giving her a pointed little smile as our laughter fell away; a now more serious and tender silence falling still between us for just a moment.

Eve hiked her cup up once more from where it had momentarily drooped and smiled affectionately at me. “The Dangerous Duo.”

“And god help anyone who gets in our way.”

“Clink and sink.” She said, touching the lip of her cup to mine before we brought both receptacles back to our waiting mouths. The cocktail wasn’t nearly as cold as I might have otherwise liked, but it had a nice fruity bite to it, with a strong alcohol and Chem component that snapped your body and mind into place with each gulp you took. I saw Eve’s eyes widen as she took her first, always overzealous gulp and then dropped the cup down to stare at its contents in wonder.

“Holy shit, that’s awesome, darl! I mean, it could use some ice but that’s _awesome_!”

I rolled my eyes at her statement and affected a Mr Handy like accent. “Oh yes, so sorry your Imperial highness, I shall run henceforth and scrape some from the side of a passing glacier.”

She punched me hard in the side of the arm. “Oh shut up, I’m trying to give you a compliment. This is really bloody good!” She took another gulp and exclaimed loudly, sinking back into the water and floating with the cup pressed tight to the rise of her chest, staring up at the sky as though struck by something hovering just within the thin streaks of white cloud above. “Whoo… couple more of these and I’m anyone’s.”

“Must be time for a top up then.” I joked, splashing over and making an attempt to grab her cup away from her bosom but she quickly snatched it away over her shoulder and out of my reach.

“Get out of it.”

“Calm down ya little lush, I was gonna bring it back.” I laughed, using my fingers to emulate the lines of two fangs appearing from my upper lip as Eve gave me another splash for my efforts.

“This stuff sure ain’t gonna help my figure any…” She muttered, taking another sip anyway. “Feel like getting good and polluted tonight. Guess that’ll have to wait until we get back to Spectacle Island though.”

“Well, just consider tonight your little break away from everything.” I said, drifting back through the water so that we stood almost shoulder to shoulder. I leaned over to give her the smallest little peck to the temple. “Let me do most of the worrying about shit, yeah? You just relax. I got ya covered, sister.”

She smiled softly at me, eyes shut for a moment as she rested the side of her head into my kiss. “Thankyou, darling.” She whispered, her lashes parting just enough so that our eyes could meet; flush with a kind of expectation that made me think to wet my lips and drift them down to meet her own. This was not two seconds before she slid away from me, backwards through the water and kicked her foot up high so that water splashed all over my stupid looking face. Some naturally went into my drink, which would have thinned it. I wasn’t sure what made me madder; this or that I had let my guard down enough to think I might have gotten a snog out of her.

“Oh, so _that’s_ the thanks I get? It is fucking _on_ now, bitch!” I yelled, holding my drink up above my head and charging through the water to try and make a grab for her. She turned about, putting her feet back to the bottom of the lagoon and started thrashing her way in the opposite direction with a squeal of delighted laughter.

We spent the remaining afternoon this way; polishing off the bottle whilst we talked, played and flirted, keeping our minds off of the more serious things that were only likely to get us down. We had a couple of races back and forth across the lake, which Eve nearly always won. She was a strong swimmer and better acquainted with the water than I was, so she managed to pull ahead of me by pure skill alone. My stamina however was superior to hers and I might have cheated on a few occasions by grabbing her ankle and ducking her under the water, which gave me a chance to get in front of her.

By the time the sun was setting, our cups were just about running empty and we were both a little juiced and a lot breezier for it. Eve always got far more playful and cheeky when she was on the turps and had already jumped on my back on a few occasions and demanded that I launch her up out of the water so that she could come splashing down into the lake. Took a bit of effort to lift her up by the bottoms of her feet and hoist her through the air; with the end result being not dissimilar to a big old sea creature trying to hurl itself out of a wave in the ocean. But she laughed all the same, sweeping her hair and running makeup out of her eyes each time she emerged and begged for me to do it again. It was wonderful to see her laughing and carefree for once; indulging in such a simple pleasure. Her smile must have been the most beautiful thing in all the world before the war had ripped her life apart. I could easily understand why her husband had married her. A smart man to have taken her off of the shelf.

Having tired herself out from a few good solid hours of play, Eve returned to the nearby rock to grab her drink, which was for the most part completely empty. I watched as she twirled her tongue around the base of her cup, looking a little sad that the beverage was finally polished up. She smiled a little guiltily when she saw me watching her and waved the cup from side to side.

“Thanks for knocking that together, darling. Was a nice treat. Whole _afternoon_ has been a nice treat.”

I nodded, tilting my own cup back to drain the last few little drops into my throat. “No worries at all, kiddo. Was happy to do it. Even if it meant putting up with you screaming all the way down that hill.”

She pouted at me and tossed the cup at my arm. It bounced off of my bicep and splashed into the water where it started to float unconcernedly away. I snatched it back up before it got too far and shook out the little dredge of water that had accumulated in the base.

“Like you didn’t love every minute.” She chuckled a little before sighing and stretching her arms up high above her head, staring out towards where the sun was setting. “Man, I’d love to drag all the others out here… We could bring a grill and have us a good old fashioned BBQ. Make it a proper day at the beach… lagoon, whatever.”

Great. That’s _exactly_ what I was thinking as well. Dragging the whole merry gang along so that MacCready and Deacon could deride and snigger and poke fun at me every time I took the occasional peek at Eve in her swimsuit.

And as much as I enjoyed the others company, I wasn’t keen on this being anyone else’s place but mine and Eve’s. To remember _this_ shared moment; our happy, peaceful afternoon together, cooled by the water from below and warmed from above by the unremitting rays of the sun.

I looked at her; at the suns light breaking around the lines of her body, surmounting her curves with dark thrumming edges. Her copper skin glistened as the water dried upon it, the sway of her back dipping down before disappearing beneath the quickly darkening surface of the lake. The vibrant red and green of the rose shaped tattoo on her left shoulder; underpinned by the curlicue words: _Hope springs eternal._ A drop of water rolled across it and further still, dropping into the sway of her spine and travelling further; seeking out the body of water from which it had been disturbed in the first instance. I felt a little envious; wishing that my hands or mouth could trace that very path it had just taken. Better yet, to sup it from her skin entirely and drink it into my own body; to imbibe that very thing which had been granted such intimacy with her flesh.

Her short wavy hair had curled a little more from the water and the heat and pressed against her neck and temples like the golden tendrils of some undiscovered water reed. The little clasp that nestled just there below her shoulder blades looked so accessible now and I imagined how easy it would be to swim up behind her, reach my fingers beneath and flick those little plastic tabs apart.

The myriad of bruises adorning her body however, only reminded me of the unwanted hands that had wounded and attempted to brutalize her those few weeks ago and I knew I could never put such selfish, unpermitted desires against her. I had no rights to her of this nature and I couldn’t stomach the idea that I might have made her uncomfortable or harassed. I wanted her to trust in me; to invite me in when she was ready. If I gave her any reason to think that I was only being kind to her because I expected a physical return someday… she’d have every right to feel betrayed.

She was my friend; first and foremost. I hadn’t been interested in keeping other women’s friendships or even preserving their positive feelings towards me but I most definitely didn’t want Eve thinking that I only cared for her because I was hoping she would put out some day.

She turned away from the sun with a contented smile and saw me watching her, which gave her a little start, I think. She looked slightly embarrassed and glanced from side to side, realizing that I wasn’t staring at the sunset but at her instead.

“What?” She asked, certain though I’m sure she must have been of what my feelings were.

I had thought of saying something cool to ease her discomfort but the words rolled out of my mouth before I was able to both properly consider them and then stop them completely.

“Don’t mind me.” I murmured, smiling as I roved my eyes across her beautiful, dripping curves. “Just… admiring the view.”

And a hell of a view it was. Even with the bruises adorning her face and the smeared blotches of her eye makeup running down her cheeks and onto her chin, she was still a lovely young woman. Her soft, sensuous arches and gentle face made me feel like… I wanted to stop the world right in its tracks, here and now. Tear this moment out of the racing spool of universal negatives and pin it hard and firm to the wall out of time; where it could remain suspended and easily within reach for continued perusal until the damn thing was spotted and blurred by eager fingerprints.

So many things about her were imperfect I’m sure but I couldn’t begin to see them. Or more to the point, I didn’t see them _as_ imperfect, not in a truly negative sense. Every little thing that was a part of Eve was just that; a part of her. Her smeared makeup was disarming and down to earth. The little snort she made whenever she started laughing was charming. Her sometimes clumsy size and strength; her dopiness, her contented acceptance of herself whilst being able to having fun at her own expense… to make light of being supposedly big or chunky or whatever. She was such a breath of fresh air; decidedly at peace with who and _how_ she was and not getting resentful or envious.

Standing there in the water; she radiated peace and happiness and simple elegant beauty. Maybe the alcohol had gotten me a little more sentimental than usual but I challenge anyone to not be struck by an image such as that of the person you have grown to love, near naked and highlighted in the orange and amber hues of the setting sun.

It very nearly overwhelmed me; the urge to go to her, lift her out of the water and slam my lips against her own flushed and bruised ones. I thought of the way our wet, slippery skin would feel as it came together; sliding hot and cool all in the same gesture. I wanted to writhe with her in the freshness of the dimming day, feel the stirring lap of the water around our thighs as I eased the wet, clinging panels of fabric from her shining skin. Licked the tiny droplets from where they trailed and dripped and might otherwise hang suspended before pushing and parting, sliding my way deep inside with the water to guide and ease my desperate thrust…

Eve stared at me in return for a long time, wondering too I think whether I might have tried something. And perhaps I might have, if not for the tiny flicker of uncertainty I’m fairly sure I saw in her face. If there was anticipation there, it was marred still by fear, which was a very clear indication to me that she still wasn’t quite there yet. I tried to temper down the rush of disappointment I felt but it was growing more difficult with each subtle, unspoken deterrent. Especially in a setting like this; which was almost _too_ fucking sexy and romantic.

“John…” She started to say with a careful kind of deliberation that I knew I immediately needed to sand off. I offered up a smile and tilted my head towards shore; just over her shoulder.

“Hey, ya wanna bust on outta here? I don’t know about you, but I’m startin’ to get all pruney.”

She snorted out a laugh at this and her face immediately relaxed into her usual temperate smile. “Yeah, sure thing. Hey listen; what were you thinking for dinner? Got anything special ya want me to whip up?”

I gave a little shrug as I pushed one of the cups inside of the other, using my now spare hand to help propel my way through the water. “This is supposed to be a night off for you now Munch, don’t forget. I can just throw together a stew or somethin’ simple if ya like.”

She laughed over her shoulder as she swam ahead of me, the brilliant red and green of her tattoo looking even brighter above the line of water gently bobbing below it. “Won’t be much of a night off if I spend the whole time with my ass firmly wedged over a hole I’ve dug in the sand.” She quipped, ducking her head as I splashed some water towards her unappreciatively. “I’m only teasing, darl. That sounds lovely but I don’t mind helping whip it all together. Can we have a smoke before we get started though?”

“But of course.” I said grandiosely, thinking that I was quite overdue for a good roll of the old Chark. Maybe even a coupla huffs of Jet later in the evening to keep me sharp whilst Eve slept. I’d even put something special aside for her to help take the edge off and snooze right through the night; a little bottle of Daytripper pills. This was really the only Chem that Eve liked and she munched on these little tackers like I would my Mentats and with just as much relish. The dulled her mind, she said and took away all the pain and anxiety she was feeling so that she could simply ease back and chill. They’d been the first Chems that she had taken since waking up in the Wasteland and of course it was yours truly and his bad influence that had offered them to her. But she’d had a hell of a good night on them, despite Nick being a killjoy and trying to nip the whole thing in the bud. Fucking square.

The woman needed a good nights’ sleep though and I knew that for certain that she would have one after a solid meal, a few puffs of Chark and a couple of these little green beauties down her gullet. Sleep like a baby and god only help anyone that tried to disturb her rest. Because I planned to be hopped up higher than a Vertibird until morning rolled in, making good and certain that no one or nothing would get close enough to rouse her.

I was about twenty feet from Eve, rolling over my little plan for the evening in my head when everything suddenly and ironically turned to shit.

As Eve paddled her way underneath the overhanging tree near the rock we had claimed, a ravaged arm suddenly dropped down from the branch above and locked around her neck. It happened so suddenly that I thought for a second I must have misconstrued what I had seen, because there was no way this could have been happening. We had poked around the lagoon before getting into the water and I’d checked the drop line and the shore itself religiously. How could someone have slipped in so easily? I’d let my guard down on a few occasions sure, but…

Eve let out a yell and immediately started lashing and punching at the arm which encircled her as another appeared, the fingers of which sunk into her hair and yanked up hard and tight. Her voice keened upward into a higher pitch and she slammed her hand down on top of the attackers’ fingers, trying to force apart his grip so that she could free herself.

I could see the bastard, a fellow Ghoul of all things, perched in the crotch of the branch right above her head and he was moving backwards as he now dragged her by her hair; trying to immobilize her further by putting pressure on her throat and scalp. This strategy may have worked with other, more malnourished girls in the Wasteland but Eve’s size and muscle worked in her favor on this occasion and she was too heavy for him to pull up into the tree or drag her easily along to the lip of the shore where he could get a better hold of her.

Not to mention that he had me to contend with as well.

“LET HER GO _,_ YOU _CUNT_!!” I roared, hauling back and lobbing the tin cups in my hand as hard as I could towards the tree. They bounced off of the hanging leaves, spit firing off in two separate directions and splashing down into the water where they were promptly buffeted away in the currents created by Eve’s struggle.

The Ghoul glanced up at me briefly and then turned his attentions back to Eve, his arm sweeping down momentarily off of her neck so that he could squeeze one of her breasts in his hand. Eve shrieked, dropping both her hands down to grab his wrist and force his mauling digits away from her, screaming; “NO!!” in the same breath. Her eyes looked luminous in her fear; plainly obvious to me even through all the splashing going on around them.

So much fire burnt in my veins at the sight of it that it wouldn’t surprise me if I had evaporated every drop of water in the lake as I charged toward them. The fucking blatant disregard of that bastard; to pretty much look me right in the eye and then to grab her like that… almost like he was saying he could do whatever he wanted with her and I could do jack shit to stop it.

Well, I’d re-educate him on that one, nothing surer. And I sure as shit didn’t need a gun or a knife to make a mess of this fucker; only needed to get my hands on him and then I’d turn his dirty fucking hide inside out. In my fury, I went for whatever I had at hand however; reaching down through the water as soon as my feet made contact, searching for the first loose rock I could lay my fingers to. I got a hold of one, probably about the size of a baseball and wrenched it free; the slightly jagged edges dripping as I brought it back over my shoulder. I tensed every muscle in my arm and let fly, pitching the improvised projectile furiously towards the prick who was perched up in the tree. It crashed into the branch on which he was sitting, rocking the whole thing perilously from side to side. His eyes widened in alarm but he didn’t loosen his grip on Eve, which couldn’t have been an easy feat; given that she was scratching, thrashing and punching like a wildcat.

“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF HER!!!!” I roared, already scooping up another rock and pegging it with a ferocity that might have impressed a Behemoth. It jetted inches over his shoulder, nearly cleaving the ragged lobe off of his ear as it went. “I WILL _KILL_ YOU, YOU BASTARD!! _LET HER GO!!_ ”

There were not many people I had ever screamed at this way in my life and those who I had, were no longer around to tell the tale. My fury was compounded by my fear as well and my disbelief that this asshole had managed to sneak up on us. _He must have been waiting down here the whole time,_ I reasoned. _Maybe camped out of sight further back there in the undergrowth, just waiting for an opportunity like this… He must have been watching us the whole time, just_ waiting _for a chance to get his hands on Eve…_

It seemed strange to me that he would be working alone, especially given that not many folks would have ventured here by themselves. A bold grab like this was opportunistic, yes but the guy had to know that he wasn’t likely to get away with Eve before I caught up to them and beat his head into a thick paste. There had to be a secondary attacker around or even a third… at least one other person in place to fend off other members of the group, whilst the physically strongest claimed the prize for the rest of them.

Sure enough not two seconds after this thought had crossed my mind, the branch bowed and swayed dramatically as another person bounded on top of it and raced down to join his buddy at the far end. To my horror, it was another Ghoul and he took a moment to look right at me, gauging how fast I was approaching I think, before deciding that it was probably worth assisting with getting Eve out of the water before I reached them. He ducked down and grabbed for her struggling body, his hand managing to hook into the left hand strap of her bikini bottom. He used this to hoist her lower body up out of the water, where her legs kicked up and high to try and collect his face without any success. They held her horizontally now and by keeping her side submerged in the water, were able to drag her quickly away towards the bank; using the water itself to ease her transition.

Eve was having as little a bar of it as I was however. “BY JOVES, YOU’D BETTER PUT ME DOWN, YOU BASTARDS!!” She yelled and swung her right elbow back as hard and fast as I’m sure she was capable of doing at that angle. Her strong arms and shoulders would have made this a blow that not many men would like to wear and sure enough, the pointed bone collected the Ghoul holding her hair directly in the teeth.

He reeled back, loosening his arm from around her neck and releasing her hair entirely so that he could clutch at his now bleeding mouth. With a twist, Eve pulled herself free from his hold, which had the unfortunate added result of swinging her upper body down like a pendulum; submerging her head and shoulders beneath the surface of the water. Her hands lashed around desperately, trying I think to get her head free so she could take a breath but the asshole who had a hold of her bikini bottoms simply grabbed her other strap and continued dragging her along behind him.

I was about ten or so feet away and closing. Neither of the bastards had pulled a gun yet and I was getting the slightest bit freaked out by their adamant desire to get away with Eve, rather than deal with me first. True it gave me a chance to reach them before a fatal injury was dealt out, but it was almost desperate the way that they tugged and pulled at her. Like a starving dog, dragging a beef streaked bone halfway across a junkyard and into its kennel; dodging the other contentious beasts all the while. They seemed to actually think that they could get away with her before I intervened and whilst this was unlikely, it worried me all the more at the obvious irrationality of it.

Mathematically it didn’t add up but I don’t think this mattered to them in the slightest. The look in their eyes; like shining dinner plates as they stared at her, almost mentally incapable of factoring me into the equation at all. A kind of Brain Rot setting in, most likely… the first signs of deterioration represented by lack of impulse control and increased instinctual activity. To feed and breed.

Some Ghouls went so long without human touch that they definitely got a bit mad in the head from the physical deprivation alone. Coupled with a rapid increase of radiation and other contributory factors, they became little better than Ferals. Perhaps even more dangerous because they were still capable of planning and scheming and still compelled by sexual urges.

_A dog could rip a few good pieces of meat from the bone before the others started tearing into him… And for all the pain they might then cause him, his hunger would still be abated._

There was nothing laborious in this. They were gonna fuck her as soon as they got her on the shore. The delirious grasping of their hands said enough, let alone the hormonal, manic little glints in their shiny black eyes. One of them would probably succeed as well, if Eve was too weak from being submerged to fight them off. The other one would probably try and keep me at bay long enough for the first to have a few good go’s at her…

Blistering rage and horror burst through my chest and I went into a blind fury, splashing water wildly up all over the place as a distraction, screaming every threat under the sun and snagging up rocks from the lagoons floor that I hurled towards them time and time again. Most found their marks here and there, grazing off of the first Ghoul’s shoulders and preventing him from getting his grip on Eve when he went back in for the assist. The other was barely so much as distracted from his task, having nearly reached the thickest part of the branch and feeling secure enough to loosen his grip, he moved one hand along from her bikini strap to caress and pinch the space between her legs. His face pressed to the back of her thigh and I saw him close his teeth around the little crease where her ass met her leg and he sucked and licked and then bit… And it was a hard bite too; I saw her whole body twitch and shake with the shock of it.

Biting and sucking the skin of the girl I loved… hurting her… touching her most intimate places… thinking no doubt about jamming himself inside of her as she fought and screamed and tried to push him away, her fingernails scraping against the soft sand of the shore, crying for me, wondering why I hadn’t stopped this from happening, why I hadn’t protected her…

Blood roared in my ears until the entire world seemed to quake and crumble around me and I lobbed another stone towards him, my aim proving much better this time and knocking that arm away from her. “YOU ARE _DEAD!!_ YOU HEAR ME, MOTHER FUCKER?! YOU ARE FUCKING _DEAD!!!”_

The distraction had apparently been enough for Eve to use to her advantage because her hands suddenly lunged up, her thumbs diving under the sides of her bikini bottoms and she braced both feet against the bottom of the branch above her. She gave a few little pushes and wiggled her hips from side to side and then shoved downward hard and fast from the counterbalance. The Ghoul had still been recovering from where I had hit him and wasn’t able to grab her in time. The bikini bottoms were left behind, a loose dripping bundle in his hand as she wriggled free of them; pointed feet sliding almost daintily out through the leg holes as she slipped down into the water and out of sight.

 _Clever girl. Well done!_ I thought, halting my trajectory abruptly and reversing backwards now through the water to put some distance between myself and these bastards. Much as I planned on tearing them a new one, I needed to not walk my face directly into any gun fire they might now direct at me. Besides, Eve hadn’t emerged yet and knowing her like I did, she was most likely going to swim out and far away from the shore.

Sure enough, she popped up behind me with an enormous gasp, her head tilted back to clear her airways enough to let in sufficient air. Her head had been submerged for some time before she had gotten away and I put myself firmly between her and the two Ghouls in the tree branch so that she could recover properly. Her chest heaved up and down violently as she sucked air into her lungs; her chin bobbing up and then back in with the force of her intake. It was a moment before she was able to rake her hair away from her face and even then she had some difficulty. Her hands were trembling a whole hell of a lot.

“You okay, Munch?” I called over my shoulder, trying to keep both one eye on her as well as tracking the two cunts on the shore.

She gave a shaky little nod, her bruised lips pursed vulnerably. “Yeah… I-I’m okay… oh God, how embarrassment. You didn’t… s-see anything, did you?”

It was quite honestly the very last situation in which I would have been looking for a glimpse of anything and it almost made me laugh to think that _this_ of all things was her primary concern. Jesus, the poor woman had nearly been dragged up into a tree to be molested by a couple of Ghouls and she was more concerned with my having caught a glimpse of her bloody muff as she fought to free herself?

As it was, I had only caught the barest hint of hair as the bottoms had slithered off of her groin but she had moved so quickly that it was nothing more than a passing prevue. And it wasn’t as though I had been stopping to focus my attentions on her disrobement.

“Nothing to write home about.” I hissed over my shoulder, giving her a little smile as I stepped backwards enough to press against her body. I continued to push against her, encouraging her to walk backwards and drift further away from the shore until our feet could no longer touch the bottom. Eighty-five feet, approx. “And that should be the last fucking thing you oughta be worrying about…”

I heard her chuckle a little. “Looks like we’re _both_ breaking the rules now… God I hope a fish doesn’t come along and swim up my vagina.”

“Again, more pressing concerns, dear.”

“I dunno… caviar in my urethra ain’t somethin’ you should be sniffing at…”

“You!” One of the Ghouls yelled suddenly and with all the seeming eloquence of Grognak the fucking barbarian. He was standing up straight in the tree now, waving Eve’s swimsuit bottoms all over the place as though reprimanding her with them. “Girl! You get over here now!”

“Get fucked!” Eve yelled back, a slight waver to her voice which nonetheless sounded more unimpressed than frightened. I pushed her back further through the water with another solid stroke of my arms. Little over a hundred feet now. “And give me back my bikini bottoms, you dirty bastard!”

The other Ghoul reappeared on the branch, carrying something long and vaguely familiar in both hands. I groaned loudly to myself, recognizing my own shotgun. He must have picked it up off of the rock just moments after I’d disturbed his efforts with the stones I’d been throwing.

“You get over here, _now!_ ” This one yelled, drawing back the safety on the side by side with a loud _snickt_ and aiming the barrels more or less in my direction. “Or I blow your boyfriends fucking head off!”

“ _Don’t you move.”_ I whispered to Eve over my shoulder, holding my arm out to the side to prevent her from going anywhere, continuing to push her back all the while. One-hundred twenty-five feet.

“ _Wasn’t planning on it…”_ She hissed back, though she didn’t sound entirely certain about it. “ _But I don’t… I can’t let him shoot_ you. _”_

 _“He’s not gonna.”_ I made a slight indication towards him with my chin. “ _Too far away for one. Spray’ll scatter the water and not do so much as put a nick on us. And besides, I only loaded one barrel. He can only get off one shot.”_

 _“One shot’ll still be enough…”_ Eve murmured worriedly. I could feel the press of her right shoulder against my back and the soft push of her breasts against my upper arm. _“If he gets close enough to use it.”_

 _“He’ll fluff it.”_ I said confidently, almost a hundred percent certain of the fact. This was the same side by side that I had won the coup in Goodneighbor with and it was specially modified to resemble a much older style that wasn’t often seen in the Wasteland anymore. The Ghoul was already casting uncertain glances down at the trigger nook. _“See the way he’s looking at the trigger? That’s ‘cause there’s_ two. _One for the right barrel and one for the left. You try and pull both together and the whole thing’ll jam, tight and solid. He pulls the wrong trigger and he doesn’t get off a shot and we can do a bolt, nice and easy.”_

_“And if he pulls the correct trigger?”_

_“It still won’t kill us.”_ I hissed back, glancing slightly over my shoulder so that she could see the surety of my expression. Eve was a good study when it came to rifles and pistols; she had used these herself when hunting with her father back in the reserve. But she was the first to admit that shotgun’s were not exactly her forte. _“Spray will start to disperse at 75 yards… we’re almost at that now.”_ Well, one-eighty feet to be more precise.

Eve glanced around with a look of alarm on her face. _“We’re not 75 yards out!”_

“ _We’re around one-ninety feet, it’s close enough. You just need to stay behind me and do as I say, yeah?”_

“STOP WHISPERING!!” The Ghoul with the gun was yelling, waving the barrel as though this in itself was enough to frighten me into obeying. “And stop fucking moving! I told you to get back here _now,_ bitch!”

“If you’re gonna pull that trigger, pull it.” I yelled, affecting a tired, bored drawl to my voice which suggested I was just fed up with the two of them being here at all. “But I’ll tell ya now; you better make sure you kill me in one shot.” I flashed a dangerous little smile at him. “Because it’ll be my turn next.”

Something either about my self-assured tone, my smile or maybe even the words that I spoke seemed to suddenly resonate with the Ghoul who had been holding onto Eve’s bikini bottoms. His eyes widened so that they resembled black caverns and his mouth slowly winched back to reveal his bottom row of teeth in a purely anxious gesture.

“Fuck…” He moaned helplessly, taking two slow steps backward on the branch so that his feet found the shore again. “It’s… it’s Hancock…”

My smile widened as I was finally accorded the response that ought very well have been offered long before now. “In the flesh.”

I could see from the look on their torn and weathered faces that the gravity of what they had done was now sinking in. They must have known enough about me to understand that pissing me off in general was a bad enough idea. But they had just attempted to snatch and possibly rape a girl that for all they knew _was_ my girlfriend. It would have been a safer bet to have jumped into a Deathclaw’s nest, grab one of the eggs and take off with it held above your head for the angry Mama to see.

I had half been hoping that knowing who I was, the pair of deviants would simply choose to walk the other way, rather than run the risk of going up against me and potentially all of Goodneighbor. And any rational person; Ghoul or otherwise, would have been able to work this out. They would have to make absolutely sure, beyond all doubt that they could kill me and even with the shotgun on hand, there was no guarantee that they could do that. Eve and I were a solid match for just about anything that crossed our path; regardless of whether we were wearing pants or not. These two guys were clearly more opportunistic ambush predators, who hadn’t been counting on this much resistance.

Not to mention that the Brain Rot clearly prevented them from thinking things through in a meaningful manner. They could accept that they didn’t exactly want to tangle with John Hancock but John Hancock was standing between them and the woman they wanted their way with. In the end, their inert, base desires won out over rational thought and the Ghoul with the gun raised the twin barrels and squinted down the sight.

I watched his fingers carefully. Sure enough, like most right handed folks he went for the right trigger. This would have been fine, as it was the left that was loaded but the guy changed his mind at the last second and curled his finger about both triggers instead. Even fucking better.

 _“Put your hands on my shoulders, wrap your legs around me and hold on…”_ I whispered out of the corner of my mouth. Eve wasted no time in complying to my instructions and not a half second later, I felt her fingers clasp tight about both shoulders and her weight tipping me back a little as she wrapped her legs around my waist. She didn’t push up tight to my back, worried I think that I might feel the brush of her pubic hair against my skin or something. Which was not worth fucking worrying about; not when I needed to be able to manoeuvre her around quickly. I gave a little sigh as I lowered my hands through the water, cupped her under the knees and yanked her tighter against my body. She gave a little grunt of dissent but I ignored it. Now wasn’t the time to go getting all prudish.

There was a tiny _thunk_ of resistance as the Ghoul tried to squeeze both triggers off and I saw the resistance rock down his arm and possibly jar his finger in the attempt. I didn’t wait around to appreciate the confused look on his stupid face and quickly hissed to Eve; _“Hold your breath and fucking_ swim.”

I heard her take a big gasp of air and then thrust my legs up hard and fast through the water, submerging our heads and upper torsos beneath the surface. I angled myself so that my own face and chest now faced upward and Eve was pinned beneath me, her back towards the floor of the lagoon. I was hoping that she would push off from me and use the momentum to propel herself away through the water but I think the idiot girl was worried that she might push me back towards the surface where I would be at risk from the gunshot.

Instead, her hands came off of my shoulders, whilst keeping her legs pinned to either side of my chest and she gave long furious strokes that buffeted the water at my sides; pulling me down with her towards the bottom of the lake. When there was enough water between us and the surface, she released me and then quickly turned and dropped, grabbing a hold of the rocks, bracing her feet and then pushing forwards. I watched her spear away, blurry one second and then inscrutable the next and then turned and started swimming in the other direction.

The two Ghouls were most likely to go after Eve and with that in mind, I needed to try and circle around to get behind them. She would be serving as bait in a way, though I had no desire to put her in any danger whatsoever. It was simply a necessary distraction so as to overpower these two and protect her from further harm.

My lung capacity was absolutely shit house, however. Didn’t swim enough for a start and smoked and drank and huffed too much for another. But I held on for as long as I was able, prolonging my submersion by blowing out little streams of bubbles to ease the pressure on my lungs. I counted the approximate distance I had travelled as I conceded defeat and started to rise to the surface. A good thirty-two feet or so, I guessed, which should bring me reasonably close to the side of the lagoon closest to the two Ghouls.

I didn’t want to clue them on to where I was and I was counting on the dying sun throwing enough shadows on the water to keep us hidden whilst we swam. When I finally neared the surface, my lungs were screaming for air but I forced my body beyond to the extremes of patience and rotated about as much as I could, pushing only mouth and chin up out of the water and long enough only to take another breath. I tilted backward, using my arms to stir the currents around me and work my way back under the surface, twisting about when I was safe to do so and stroking forward toward where I knew the shore to be.

Being a better swimmer than me, Eve had no doubt travelled a great distance more but I was still concerned. When she saw I wasn’t with her, she might have gone into a panic; thinking I’d been shot whilst in the water and was now floating around somewhere dead as a doornail. I could only pray she knew enough of my character to guess what I was up to and wouldn’t put herself in further danger to try and get back to me.

A tall dark shadow loomed through the water ahead of me and I knew then that I had finally reached the shore. I resisted bursting my head up out of the water and gasping like a moron. No surer way to draw attention to where I was than that. Instead, I braced my hands to the smooth side of the rock and slowly brought my chest, lower torso and legs into alignment with it. A perfect Gecko, which might have spared me a few rounds in Kings Cup.

I slowly and carefully worked my head up and out of the water, easing my transition gradually so that the sound of disturbance wasn’t as loud. I took in as deep and as quiet a breath through my nasal cavity as possible; biting back the impulse to cough and clear it of the water which had shot up my sinuses whilst I’d been submerged.

I took another breath in through my nose, keeping my lips pinched shut as I glanced up, looking for any sign of the two Ghouls.

What I got instead, was the shiny barrel of my own gun pointed at my face.

“No, you fucking _don’t_.” The Ghoul said, which was a stupid, arrogant mistake on his part. He wanted to play the badass and speak to me before pulling the trigger; make certain that I realized what a stupid idiot I was for even sticking my head up in the first place.

Unfortunately for him, the second that he opened his mouth, I was already moving.

I grasped the barrel with both hands, bringing all my weight against it and twisting my head sharply off to the side of the chambers as I pushed my knees hard off of the rock wall I was pressed against. The force shocked him, even more so when I got my feet onto the stone and could use all my strength to lunge away, bringing the stupid idiot and the gun along for the ride. His fingers clumsily fumbled the shot; pulling back on the right trigger, as I anticipated he might. The gun jammed, he let out a yell and then they were both in the water with me.

And then it was fucking on.

My head and body were thrust beneath the surface as the idiot came crashing down beside me but I kept my hands firmly locked about the barrel of the gun, pushing back with my hips so that my feet eventually found traction on the lagoon floor. When they had, I lurched upwards, my head clearing the water with a loud splash. The Ghoul still had the gun but I was in the position of strength and when he finally resurfaced, he showed little resistance when I pushed the stock back hard against his face. The blow hurt him; split the side of his cheek wide open and turned the water around us red as blood gushed out. He released the gun reactively and then shrieked with shock as he tried to take it back. Keeping my hands firm on the barrels, I swung the stock straight back towards his face like it was a genuine Diamond city hickory swatter. It collected him hard, cutting his yell off short and turning him about dramatically in the water before he fell face down with a cacophonous splash.

Predatory though these assholes obviously were, they clearly weren’t made for fighting. Rookie mistakes through and through and no gumption; no forethought. The kind of short sighted bullying behavior that served Vic and his goons only so well until the rest of wised up enough to use our noggins and formulated strategies and plans.

I wasn’t certain if the Ghoul was dead but I certainly wasn’t taking any chances. Nor was I going to risk wasting the one shot I had in the gun simply to put him down. Instead, I grabbed his boot and pulled him in towards me. I slid the shotgun down through the water and held it between my thighs, using my now freed hands to pin one of his own back and up in the air and the other to keep his face submerged beneath the water.

I hadn’t forgotten what he had done to Eve’s breast. Or that he had tried to cut her breath off in almost the same manner I was now doing his. He gave a limp struggle, his head too injured from the strike I had made and all the blood he was swiftly losing. He gave it a good shot though and I quickly tired of his thrashing and wrapped my fingers around his own, wrenching back hard so that three cracked from the pressure. A burbling scream erupted from beneath the water.

“You’re lucky-” I hissed, knowing that he couldn’t hear me but wanting to say it anyway. “-that I don’t got the time to work you over like I wanna. Just need you to fucking die right here and now. Let your buddy take on what you shoulda got given, you piece of shit.”

I thrust my hand harder against the back of his head, bobbing it again and again like a fucking tato in a barrel. Four minutes seemed an awful long time when I was keeping my eye out for the other son of a bitch but I gathered that he had indeed broken away to pursue Eve; leaving this clown to try and clean me up. So much for the best laid plans of mice and fuckwits.

When the Ghoul had finally stopped struggling, I made doubly certain that he was likely to get up by smacking him once more in the back of the head with the stock of the shotgun. Then, after climbing back on shore and retrieving my knife, I hopped back in and slit his throat.

I felt a little sting of sadness; not on account of the man I had just slayed but for the dirtying of this beautiful clean water which Eve and I had so looked forward to returning to. Everything about this afternoon had been stained by what these pricks had done. Seemed fitting that the water itself was now tainted with their blood.

The sun had almost dropped down completely out of sight and the coverage was much better as a result. I didn’t bother with getting changed and simply dropped into a crouch behind the trees, staring around the borders of the lake to try and get a spot on Eve.

I soon found her bright blonde head of hair; perched above the water a good distance from the shore on the other side. A shadowy figure paced the stone wall in front of her, barely visible in the dying light.

I didn’t waste any more time and tucked the shotgun under my arm, slid the blade of the knife between my teeth and took off in their direction. My bare feet pounded the undergrowth beneath and occasionally encountered grief on a few sharp concealed rocks. I ignored the pain they ripped up through my leg, bit away the yell I might have otherwise emitted and plunged ahead.

I circled around right behind where I could now see the Ghoul standing on the platform of rocks and he was yelling out various demands at Eve, which she was responding to with her usual degree of sass. I clamped the stock of the shotgun to my shoulder, supported the chambers and stepped out through the cover of the trees; keeping the knife pinned tight between my teeth. The bloke was probably about twelve feet or so away from me when my toe jabbed into an outcrop I hadn’t been expecting and I stumbled, my bare foot slapping down and resonating in a moment of silence that fell between the pair.

The Ghoul shifted around and Eve was yelling in the distance; “ _HE’S GOT A GUN, JOHN!!”_ as the pipe pistol came around and into plain sight. He was faster than me and fired off a shot, which pierced through and mostly over the top of my left shoulder. I didn’t allow the pain to distract me from what I needed to do and my aim proved a lot better than his had been; not that this was a requirement when you’re practically sitting in the guy’s lap. The ricochet rocked the gun back in my hands as I squeezed off the left hand trigger; seeing the familiar bloom of red burst outwards from his chest as the force threw him back into the water.

Eve closed on him quickly then; groaning a little as she was forced to stray into the bloodied water which circled him like a grisly halo. But she stayed focused on what was needed and ensured that the pipe pistol was snatched safely out of his possession. She kept this focused firmly on him as she leaned over, dug her hand into his shirt pocket and retrieved her swimsuit bottoms.

“I’ll be taking those, _thankyou._ ” She growled, bouncing backward through the water and away from the spread of the blood. She reached the wall of stones, hurled the gun up on top of them and took a moment to tug her bottoms on. I reached down and offered her my hand.

“Here, Munch. I gotya.” I said, clasping her palm tightly and leaning back so that she could scramble herself up the side of the rock. She kept her eyes prudishly turned away from me all the while and once on shore, went straight to a nearby tree and broke off a small, flowery branch. She returned to my side, still looking away and then reached over to cover my groin with it.

“Best I can do on short notice. Given the available lack of Fig trees about the place.” She said, smiling a little as I dutifully reached down and took the branch out of her hand. I held it in place, thinking I really needn’t have bothered since there wasn’t that much foliage on the bloody thing anyway but it satisfied Eve enough so that she could turn back around and look at me without being embarrassed.

“Much better. But oh, you know…” Her face flushed about her bruising and smeared makeup as she looked to the ground and distributed an awkwardly kind of bro-punch to my shoulder. “Um… good for, uh… _you…_ and all that.”

I was confused for a moment and then of course realized that she was referring to my dick. So much for looking away in time.

“Whoof…” She murmured, putting her hands on her hips and staring away for a moment to gather herself. The base of her neck and curves of her collarbone were also flushed red, though this had nothing to do with the trails of blood which were still clinging to her skin. “Ain’t many secrets left between us _now._ ”

“Well no one said you had to look.” I said, pretending to scold but secretly kind of pleased by her reaction. She looked very flushed from the skirmish and was still trembling however, so I didn’t go ahead and get too caught up in the feeling. We needed to move on out.

“We should uh… pull up tent and move somewhere else. Not thinking it’s safe to stick around here any longer.” Eve stated, leaning over to pick up the pipe pistol and quickly checking it over. I retrieved my knife from where I had spat it onto the ground and handed this to her for transportation. She slid it neatly through the side of her bikini bottoms, so that the blade rested flush to the skin of her thigh.

“I hear ya, chicken.” I said, reaching out with my spare hand to wrap around the back of her head. I pulled her trembling body closer and gently kissed her hair, caressing the damp strands gently beneath my palm. “Let’s get this freak show on the road.”

There was a choking, raspy sound from the man in the water and Eve and I turned briefly back towards him. Surprisingly, the guy was still alive, though he wouldn’t be for much longer. Not with half of his stomach contents drizzling out into the water.

“ _I just… wanted to…_ ” Blood splattered down over his chin as he coughed; looking all the more pathetic in his efforts to say… something. _“ – to… touch you…”_

Eve’s lips curled up in disgust. “Try buying dinner first, asshole.” She sneered and then without a moment’s hesitation, raised the pistol and fired one clean shot into the Ghoul’s chest. Another small spurt of blood erupted from his lips as his body jerked from the blow. With a sigh, he expired finally and carried by a cloud of his own exhaust, drifted away from us and towards the center of the lagoon.

 

**~**

 

Not two hours later, we sat perched outside of our tent; having travelled as far as we were able before pain and exhaustion had forced us to set up camp.

We decided that it was too hot for a fire and we were both too tired and sore to bother with troubling ourselves for dinner. So we ate baked beans out of a can.

“This’ll be lovely in the tent tonight.” Eve joked and I was glad to see that she was maintaining her humor in spite of everything she had gone through. I agreed that it probably wasn’t the best option when sharing a small confined space but I had already decided that I would be staying up the entire night and keeping guard.

That is until Eve tried to seduce me.

She was cleaning the wound on my shoulder at the time and had progressed further then by rubbing some of my cream into the healing stripes on my back and the burn on my chest. I was smoking a cigarette with greater attention to detail than was usually required as her hands worked across my flesh; sending telepathic signals to my penis all the while which sounded suspiciously like a hold up: _‘Don’t. Fucking. Move’_.

I gathered that something was awry when, having already stuck a plaster to my miniscule gunshot wound and applied more than enough lotion to the burn, her hand continued to circle across the mound of my pectoral. Her breathing from close by to my ear, sounded a little more laboured than usual.

I glanced over at her, taking off my hat and using it to fan myself. The night had cooled down some but it was still ridiculously hot. Eve was wearing her boxers and shirt to bed tonight and even this looked far too heavy to me. The sleeves in particular looked wrinkled and constricting as they fluttered around her arms.

“What are you up to?” I asked, because naturally, I’m my own fucking cock block. If I had any common sense, I would have just given a little moan, an approving sort of sigh and said that it felt nice, or something along those lines. Instead, it came out like a sort of amused reprimand. Like a kid who was trying to not so stealthily stick their hand in the fucking cookie jar.

Eve didn’t make eye contact; I think that this might have just broken her confidence if she allowed herself to look directly at me. Instead she stared down towards my collarbone, her eyeballs flicking in their sockets as she traced the movement of her own hand. My skin felt slippery beneath her touch and not only from the cream itself. Sweat had started to run down my neck from the heat… and the excitement.

“What does it feel like?” She whispered rhetorically, the fingers of her other hand coming to light against my knee. My breath hitched in my throat and waited there, my lungs tightening with the need for release as Eve’s hand slid down and then further still. She cupped my inside thigh and then pulled her palm back with a push against the muscle, returning the stroke with interest. Caressing. I felt her lips press to the skin behind my ear and my eyes shut of their own accord; the smallest little moan escaping from my mouth before I was able to stop it.

Eve had already been tipsy when we had left the lake and had since downed a few more glasses of wine and two of the Day Trippers at the same time. This combination was intended to help her sleep but she was instead using it to abandon her common sense it seemed.

I wanted to pretend like this was all her and that nothing else was contributing to her desire to suddenly seduce me. My penis was already more than convinced and was pushing hard against the seam of my trousers, so that I was required to shift my sash across to cover the bulge.

Her hands felt wonderful; especially the one on my inside thigh, a place I hadn’t felt such a sensual touch in so long. I groaned, tilting my head back as she grew bolder with her administrations; pushing her fingers down lower and deeper, grazing the seam of my pants in the process. She slowly and softly kissed a line along the side of my neck, her warm lips coming to rest on the point where my pulse was situated. She gently sucked; her tongue and teeth scraping me.

I wanted to fuck her so bad. Pull her down right there on the ground, rip her boxers clean off her legs and press my lips flush to her intimate folds. Kiss and lick and strum until she hit a point of release and then press myself down right on top of her and slide on in.

I could do it… it would be easy and casual and probably wouldn’t have to mean anything in the morning. Just the old Goodneighbor salve; a fuck between friends.

Problem was… I didn’t _want_ it to be easy. And I definitely didn’t want it to not mean anything.

“Well, I know how it _feels_ …” I managed to finally choke out, reaching down to clasp the back of her hand. All my desires and instincts as a male screamed at me, wondering just what the ever loving fuck I was doing. The moment that I had been waiting for and here I was going and throwing a spanner in the works instead. “But I also know what nearly happened to you today, Munch. And I think you're ridin’ high on the fear of that; not to mention a few other choice substances. A good night’s sleep is what you need more than a poking and a prodding from me.”

She stared at me for a moment, her expression void but eyes silent questioning. A hint of confusion flittered across her brow and her bottom lip sloughed slightly.

“I… I thought…” She stopped, shook her head as though deterring an errant bug and then struggled quickly up onto her feet, looking suddenly mortified. “Jesus… I’m sorry… I’m so… sorry…”

“Eve…” I called but she ignored me, intent on leaving the situation as quickly as possible. She practically speared herself through the opening of the tent and might have even zipped it shut if she thought she might survive the scorcher of a night without any ventilation.

I felt dreadful for hurting her feelings and a little angry with myself for denying her desires in the first instance. Here I’d been, wanting her for so goddamn long and when opportunity came and practically rubbed me off, I’d taken opportunity and chucked it out the window.

 _This could have been what got you together!_ An angry, horny little voice screamed in my head. _Holding her and comforting her and making her feel better! For fucks sake, you’re both adults, she was consenting and she cares about you! It would have been okay!!_

I had myself almost entirely convinced of this fact before another more sensible sounding voice added its two caps worth. _No,_ it said, offering a metaphoric and wise shake of the head. _She had the shit scared out of her today. She’s drunk, high on pills and not thinking straight. This is not an intimacy and she’s not seeking you out simply because she wants to be with you. She wants to feel better. You would simply be the tool that she is using to achieve this end._

It sounded harsh, but I didn’t resent her for this. How could I? I’d been no better in the past. Hell, I’d nearly used Belinda to work out my repressed desires for Eve. We’re all… human, so to speak. And even someone as caring as Eve would have moments where she was weak enough to shelve her morals and use someone to have her needs met.

Which was no doubt part of why she had retreated into the tent so quickly in the first place. Realization as to what she was doing and clarity into her own intentions besides. She would have felt guilty and embarrassed no doubt and I hated to think of her in there, curled up and alone after that horrible thing that happened today.

I gave her about ten or so minutes, finishing up my cigarette and then stamping it out onto the ground before taking a deep breath and kneeling down to push my way inside of the tent. Eve was facing away from the entrance, curled on her side with a novel in one hand that she was reading by the light of her Pip-Boy. She was squinting, so I knew that she was having a rough time of it as usual.

She didn’t stir as I sat down on the other side of the tent, using my hat once more to fan my chest and neck. I looked over at her; the way her white shirt pulled tight over her shoulder blades, creating a taught series of lines between the two points on her back. She had tensed up when I’d entered; that much I could tell.

“I’m sorry…” I whispered, wishing that I could reach out and touch her. Help ease her feelings like I might have done in any other situation.

She hefted a long, annoyed sounding sigh and the lines on her shirt suddenly slumped downward as her shoulders relaxed.

“You don’t have to be sorry.” She said. “ _I’m_ the one who acted like a perfect idiot.”

Any other time I might have made a joke like ‘You’re not perfect’ and gotten a laugh out of her but this was not going to be helpful in this situation. She clearly felt like shit and was angry with herself and needed nothing except reassurance and compassion.

“You’re not an idiot.”

She gave a bitter sounding chuckle as she placed the open book down on the bedroll in front of her. “Just a whore. And a user.”

Now it was my turn to chuckle but there was no bitterness in it. “As far from both as a person can be, Munch.” I took a chance and reached down to rub my hand over her shoulder. She didn’t stiffen up but her upper body immediately started to jerk and she gave a few tearful sounding little huffs. Jesus, the poor darling really _was_ at breaking point. “You just… wanted to feel better, yeah?”

Her shoulder rolled beneath my hand as I continued to circle my palm. When she spoke, I could hear the weight of her tears in her voice. “I just keep… feeling their hands on me. Those… fingers between my legs.” She sighed impatiently, one arm reaching up to wipe at her eyes. “It’s so stupid… you’ve been through so much worse. I suppose… most people have.”

I felt my brows crease in across my forehead, devastated by her lack of lenience towards herself. Especially when she was so accommodating of everybody else when they had gone through shit. “No degree of assault is tolerable, Munch. And you shouldn’t feel guilty about feeling bad. It upset _me_ too.” I moved my hand up to stroke her ruffled hair and this was when she started to sob in earnest, her legs curling up to press tightly underneath her body, arms closing into her chest. A posture I knew all too well; the unconscious means of barring off a past offenders access to those parts of your body that could be used for their own pleasure. “It’s okay to have a cry if you need to. Just don’t blame yourself, okay? Ain’t your fault those two assholes got it in their heads to do what they did.”

She snuffled loudly and made a little hiccupping sound; which might have been funny if she hadn’t been feeling so horrible.

“I know. I don’t… blame myself. I just feel…”

I nodded, understanding all too well. “Dirty.”

She bowed her head a little, chin jerking up and down. The eye closest to me was clamped shut and her cheek was dappled with tears. “God I’m so stupid…” Her fingers wiped tersely at her face, trying to dash away the evidence of her pain and fear. “And it wasn’t… it wasn’t because they were Ghouls. I think it just maybe… upsets me more because I thought… I just… didn’t imagine…”

I knew what she meant and why she struggled to even say it in the first place. That she couldn’t have imagined Ghouls ever trying to hurt anyone that way because we were a marginalized group who faced a great deal of persecution and prejudice. Eve would be a little naïve at this, or perhaps a little biased having been bullied a lot in her own teenage years. That people who are hurt by others are naturally more tolerant and caring, because they know what it’s like to be treated poorly. Whilst this might have been true for someone like her, it certainly wasn’t the case with everyone. Some victims went on to become abusers instead. And there was one very obvious factor that she had failed to take into account.

“Just because they suffer prejudice doesn’t mean they don’t have the same desires and weaknesses as any other man, Munch. Underneath, they’re still human. Not to mention that they were in the transition phase of Brain Rot from the looks of it. Ghouls who isolate themselves and don’t practice proper safety around Radiation put themselves on the fast track for Feral status in fairly short order.” I dropped myself down onto my elbow, bracing the palm of my hand to my head so that I could lie beside her, stroking my fingers over her hair and then down across her forehead; trying to soothe out the angry lines that looked permanently etched there. “I just hope you know that I would _never_ … _never_ , hurt you like that.”

Eve finally looked over her shoulder at and gave a little smile; her large eyes shining ruminant from her tears. The light from the Pip-Boy made the far side of her face look strange; wash in that vibrant green glow that seemed to highlight every line and crease in a person’s face. It made her look a little alien-like, though I’m sure she didn’t need to be hearing this at that point in time.

“I know.” She said in response to my words and it was a relief for me to hear the absolute surety in her tone. Despite what two members of my own race _and_ sex had done to her today, she didn’t associate this in any way with me. “And I think… that’s why I…” She paused to swallow; her face going a little red in the cheek closest to me. “I mean… I thought… since we… nearly kinda… you know…”

“Last month, you mean?” I asked, referring back to the night we had stayed in Bunker Hill, following the incident with all the children. The night where just about everyone got blind drunk and tried crawling into each other’s pants, with varying degrees of success.

Eve nodded a little, turning her face away from me and pushing her cheek back against her pillow. “Not to mention what you told me way back when… about having those… impure… thoughts…”

I hadn’t forgotten this conversation, though I certainly no longer ascribed any special significance to it. This was another occasion where Eve had been injured and hopped up on painkillers and drink. My feelings for her were starting to develop at this stage but they weren’t so impacted by blind delirious love that I couldn’t risk taking a crack here and there for the fun of it. Now, I would barely risk such a thing just in case I scared her away or made her uncomfortable.

It did surprise me that she had remembered this little flirtation we had, however. We hadn’t talked about it the following day and I simply put it down to her being too Med-X affected to remember what had been said. Goes to show just how sneaky and astute women can be with concealing or avoiding things they just aren’t interested in dealing with.

“Didn’t think you remembered me saying that.” I said, with a small self-mocking little chuckle. “Can’t have hopped you up high enough on the booze and painkillers.”

Eve laughed softly at this, though it died quickly and her shoulder hunched up, into a self-conscious sort of pose. “I just… wanted to stop feeling _their_ hands… I wanted to feel the touch of someone who… who _cares_ about me.”

I felt a warm little flutter in my heart at her words; realizing that her feelings had been a lot more sincere and loving than I had initially thought. Yes, she had still wanted to feel better and had probably been using the pills and the drink to give herself a bit of push towards initiating something but her desire was mainly to be held and cherished by someone who she knew was safe. Whose hands wouldn’t hurt her or take what hadn’t been permitted but touch and caress and hold with tenderness. The same way she must have felt just that short year ago with her husband. The man who she was really, _truly_ missing. I was simply the closest approximate.

“And I _do_ care about you. You know that. More than anyone. But you don’t need to crank ‘em apart for me to show ya that I care.” I whispered, smiling as I rubbed my hand back over her forehead and down the side of her face. “I’m here, darlin’. And I ain’t gonna go all crazy and try and make my wicked way with you like those bastards did. Thinkin’ I might be getting laid a little more than they were from the looks of things.” She chuckled a little at this, her eyes creasing up to show that she was starting to get her cheer back I think. “I’ll hold ya. And protect ya… and…”

That little catch came slamming together inside of my throat again and my own eyes blurred with tears that I hadn’t the least been anticipating. I felt so terribly accountable for what had happened and intensely cross with myself for my uselessness in regards to the whole thing.

I pursed my lips together, looking off to the side and trying to regain control of my emotions. Eve looked over her shoulder at me, sensing my upset I think and her brows immediately flattened down on either side of her eyes in sadness.

“And I’m sorry…” I finally managed, though my voice sounded absolutely fucking pathetic. I took a deep breath to try and work the emotion out of it but it didn’t seem to want to come without a fight. “I didn’t get over there fast enough today. I let my guard down and I… it’s _my_ fault you’re feeling like this. I just… wanted to give you a break away from all the shit and all I did was let you be hurt by those… those fucking assholes!”

“Oh sweetheart, no, no, no… _shhh._ ” She murmured soothingly, rolling over and sliding right up against me. Her arms twined around my neck and her lips pressed to first my cheek, my temple, my damp right eye before her chin nuzzled into the crook of my shoulder. Her hands caressed my back comfortingly. “They didn’t ruin _any_ of that. I had an absolutely wonderful afternoon. The _best._ Those bastards aren’t gonna take that away from us, I won’t let them. It’s just… a little feeling I’ve gotta get over, that’s all. But I had so much fun today.” She leaned back and smiled at me; her face taking on that bright, loving tone I had seen down in the lake earlier that day. The one I had been starting to miss these past few weeks. “And I can’t wait to go back there again someday and do it all over again.” She curled her lip and gave a little shrug. “You know; sans the molestation and murder.”

I gave a little chuckle. “Maybe the DC crew should add _that_ to their rule list?”

“Yeah.” Eve laughed, running her fingers back through her tangled hair as she rolled her eyes up towards the roof of the tent. “Because running by the lagoon _really_ doesn’t quite measure up to manhandling the other guests.”

“Or swimming naked.”

She winked at me. “Maybe that’s what I’ll try doing myself next time.”

I gave her a long look; kind of impressed by her moxie and asked; “After everything that happened today, you’re still willing to get out there butt naked?”

Eve gave me a fierce look; the very same as the one on her face when she had pumped that bullet into the bastard down by the lake. The one that set that little stirring of lust and adoration in my gut. “Only way the bastards win is if you let them change the way you live your life.” She said, frowning seriously as she gave a determined thrust of her fist into the air. “And by bloody oath, it is now my personal mission to return to that pool and have good old fashioned nudie-rudie time!”

I snorted out loud and burst into laughter; mostly out of compressed nerves but also just from shear surprise at having heard a term such as this. “ _Nudie-rudie_ time? Now _that’s_ one that old Dipshit would love.”

Eve laughed as she unfurled her fist and rubbed my arm with her fingers again. “Right up there with vomitty and ‘rumpy-pumpy’ I’m sure. Now, do me a favor while you’re here… a _non_ sexual one.” She clarified as I pretended to untie my sash. She passed me over the book and then snuggled down against the bedroll. “Could you read me the last chapter, darl? Eyes are bad enough without my reading glasses and now they’re all fuzzy ‘cause of the… well, everything.”

I smiled as I took the book, fluffing up a pillow behind my back so that I could be comfortable while I read. It didn’t take long for Eve to nod off and I spent a little time stroking my hand over her hair, down over her face and her neck. She finally looked peaceful. And with a few Daytripper’s and all that grog in her system, she sure as shit would be feeling it too.

It was too hot to stay in the tent with her all night, so I perched myself outside in the cool night air; huffing back on a little canister of Jet to help keep me pinging.

I was relieved that we hadn’t succumbed to temptation; though it would have been the easy thing to do given the circumstances. My feelings for Eve were almost irrepressible; to the degree that all she would need to do was crook her little finger and I’d haul myself naked and unprotected across broken glass, barbed wire and through a Mirelurk infested vat of sulfuric acid just so I could pitch myself on top of her. Whether she was aware just how much power she had over me I couldn’t say but I honestly didn’t think she truly appreciated the depth of my feelings.

Despite having a casual approach to sex and relationships in the past; I didn’t wish for Eve to be a part of this life in any way shape or form. She had been confused, I think, because she knew that I didn’t necessarily place any special emphasis on sex and if I cared for her as much as I supposedly did, why would I turn her away? Was she somehow less desirable than the other women that I had been with? Did I perhaps see her more as a little sister than as a woman?

This was far from the truth of course. I did in fact see her as the _only_ woman. A woman I respected, admired and loved in equal measure. And there was nothing casual about this. And if we did ever come together physically, it wouldn’t be meaningless. Especially not for me. There was simply no way now that it ever _could_ be.

It was a long night with such thoughts and by the time dawn eventually rolled around my adrenal levels were shot through the roof from exhaustion and the constant rush of amphetamines I had imbibed just to keep myself awake. I nearly blew the head off of what I thought was a Raider in the bushes nearby before I realized that it was the trader Trashcan Carla; who was also en-route to Spectacle Island.

We did some business whilst Eve slept on and as I was counting out the correct amount of caps to pass over, Carla blew out a puff of smoke from her cigarette and looked to me with a tired, yet somewhat concerned expression.

“Word to the wise if you’re heading West,” She said, flicking ash from her smoke before pulling back another drag. “Got word from the last settlement I was at that there’ve been a number of attacks at that old watering hole the DC crew set up. Wanderer’s Respite? Number of girls raped and left for dead; their fellas all shot up in the attack. Apparently it’s a pair of Ghouls done doin’ the attacks. Wouldn’t know that much but the last girl they went for managed to drag herself back home and tell the tale.” She waved a hand at me, dismissing whatever I might have been about to say. “Know it ain’t you, John Hancock. Recognize you in a sandstorm, I would. Know you’re travellin’ with that dopy Vault girl, just thought I’d be given ya the heads up. Coupla fella’s are gonna head on in there sometime today and take these two fuckers out. Put some security measures in place for the future.”

I glanced back towards the tent; my heart heavy. How long had this been going on for before Eve and I had made our way to the lagoon? How many girls and their loved ones had been brutalized and murdered by these couple of sick, wayward Ghouls?

“Thanks for the heads up.” I said, smiling as I handed over the required caps and took the shotgun ammo and the washing powder I had purchased at Eve’s behest. Carla counted the offered amount carefully before bagging it up, her eyes straying over to the tent with a questioning little air. I think she may have been wondering if anything untoward might have been going on (given that some Smoothskins couldn’t tell us Ghoul’s apart except by clothing) but Eve thankfully spared me any further scrutiny by sticking her head out through the flap at just that moment; yawning until her jaw just about unhinged.

This seemed to assuage Carla and she smirked then, calling out a little greeting before grabbing the strap on the left hand head of her pack Brahmin and pulling it back along the path ahead. Eve wandered up groggily, rubbing her eyes and dragging her feet.

“Carla’s out and about early…” She muttered, dabbing at her mouth once more with her hand as another yawn escaped. Her eyes lit up a little as she saw the plastic bag of wash powder in my fist and she quickly took it off of me. “Oh, thankyou darl, I was just down to my last pair of clean panties. Starting to think I’d have to start wearing them inside out. Or failing that, just free ball like you.”

She started heading back towards the tent but paused when she saw the thoughtful look on my face. “What is it?”

I shook the thoughts away, reasoning to myself that despite what we had gone through in visiting that lake, we had dealt out some good old fashioned justice that sounded like it sure as shit needed doing. And once Eve was fully awake and chowing down on a good solid breakfast, I would make her aware of this. And this, I’m certain, would have made her feel all the better. Knowing that she had helped take revenge for all those poor girls who hadn’t made it out of the lagoon alive.

“Nothing at all, chicken. Let’s see what we can pull together for breakfast, eh? Got a full day of skid mark scrubbing ahead and we don’t wanna be facing that on an empty stomach.”

**~**

While travelling further East in the afternoon, we stopped in at a settlement that must have been affiliated with the town further West that Carla was talking about. I know because whilst Eve and I were cooking dinner for ourselves in the main hall, a group of blokes nearby were talking loudly and wildly about the two bodies that had been found in the Wanderer’s lagoon.

“Looks like they finally picked the wrong couple to fuck with,” One of the guys said, flipping the cap off of a bottle of beer before slugging back greedily on the contents.

Eve flashed me a secretive little smile as she ladled Deathclaw curry into a bowl, which she then passed over into my hands. She tapped hers to mine, just the way we had with our cups down at the lake the previous day; right before everything had gone to shit.

“Yeah… the Dangerous fucking duo.” She whispered conspiratorially before picking up her spoon and digging into the hot contents of her bowl. I smiled as I reached forward to bump fists with her; taking a few slurps from my own bowl. It seemed fitting for us to chow down on some Deathclaw after everything we had gone through. After a year of all sorts of shit, Eve and I were still kicking and more to the point, _still_ kicking ass. As we slurped our Deathclaw curry, warm and safe in the heated environment of the settlement hall, surrounded by the relieved and grateful talk of the gathered settlers, I felt like there was nothing that could ever overcome or drive us apart.

That was until three weeks later. Until the Museum of Witchcraft in Salem.

When that Deathclaw curry came back to well and truly bite us in the ass.

 

**_Goodneighbor – Current Day…_ **

 

I left the memories behind as Fahrenheit finally joined me on the balcony; looking petulant still but respecting me enough to adhere to my instructions about smoking inside. Regardless of hers and the others complaints, they would still do as they were told when I asked. I might have been a dopey, love sick old bastard at the moment but I could still rip the legs out from just about any of them if the mood took me and they all remained fairly aware of the fact.

It didn’t stop her taking a dig however and as she pulled the door shut behind her, she rolled her eyes and snipped; “Oh my God, you are _so_ pussy whipped. Which I’d find funny ordinarily but seeing it happen to you is just tragic.”

“Well that’s a bit rich coming from _you._ ” I shot back, thinking I did indeed sound a little bitchy to my own ears. Fuck it; it’d been a long day of people picking on me and my patience was starting to wear the slightest bit thin.

“And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, don’t give me that. You all up to Doc Amari’s with a little scratch that just _happened_ to be on the back of your thigh.” I leant further over the railing of the balcony, continuing to roll my joint together as I sashayed my ass from side to side, emulating a high pitched girly voice. “’ _Oooh doctor… I came to grief on a piece of glass down in the Third Rail. Won’t you please tug down my pants and take a lookie-loo? Don’t mind my ass while you’re there.’_ Please, you think you’re being clever with any of that? You’re full of shit, you are.”

Fahrenheit leaned back and struck her foot hard into my backside, causing me to tuck away from the force of her strike. Didn’t mind it apart from that; getting a crack in the rump from the Betta wolf was a regular occurrence for me.

“Shut your ugly fucking face, Hancock.”

“My town, my Statehouse, my big boy hat, I’ll do and say whatever I damn well please.” I said, licking the sides of my rollie and slicking the paper together. I tossed it up towards my mouth, caught the little cylinder between my lips and used a match to light the end. Seemed a bad mix with the Mentats still swirling about my system but fuck it; I’d done worse. “Seriously. Fucking nerve of you girl; given’ me a lecture when you haven’t got the balls to go and have an honest talk to the dame you’ve got the hots for either. You’re a fucking hypocrite, you are.”

“Hypocri-“ She flailed her arms in the air in a desperate sign of losing control before jabbing her finger hard into the wall of my chest. “In case it suits you to forget, John _Cockhead_ , _I’m_ too fucking tied up with all the stupid judicial shit you keep dumping on me every time you fuck off somewhere with your little blonde headed twat to so much as take a shot at a love life of my own!”

I rolled my eyes towards her; tired and unimpressed. “Well, that’s a convenient excuse for being a goddamned gutless wonder.”

“Gutless?!” She spluttered furiously. “Are you serious, given that you’ve spent an entire _year_ fucking pissing around after that stupid chick and you have the balls to say-”

“One fucking year,” I interjected, holding my finger up before her red and flustered face, though she continued to scream her point at me, undeterred as I made my own. “-compared to the _several_ you’ve spent living across the _street_ from the broad you like! You can’t be so fucking busy you can’t just stroll across the public square and poke your head in the door-”

“– with the moral fibre of a chem dependent molerat!” Fahrenheit shouted, rounding up on some point she had apparently been making in the midst of my own tirade. “So take _that_ into your back hole and sit on it – you fucking raison faced _asshole_!”

“ - so I’m thinkin’ _you’re_ the one who’s either lazy or scared – you… ginger headed… _minge gobbler!!_ ”

We both fell silent and somewhat exhausted after this exchange, chests slightly heaving in the aftermath and with a few concerned citizens pausing below to stare up at us, wondering just what in the name of all hell was going on. They relaxed a few scant moments later, when Fahrenheit and I burst out laughing, all our previous tension evaporating as easily as the smoke from our swiftly diminishing cigarettes.

“‘Ginger-headed _minge gobbler_?’” Fahrenheit recited, shaking her head with bemusement. “Was that seriously the best you could come up with?”

“Well what about you? Shove a ‘something’ in my… what did you call it? Back hole?” I said with a chuckle, taking a deep drag in from my rollie and holding the fumes snug in my lungs before exhuming them again. The relaxed cloud which had been firmly foisted from my brain by the Mentats was slowly starting to seep in again and take hold.

“Whatever man, I was flying by the seat of my pants there, didn’t know _what_ I was going to come out with.”

I laughed as I leant sideways a little, knocking my shoulder against hers affectionately. “Hey. Sorry about lumping you with all the crap.”

She gave a dismissive wave of her hand; unsmiling but not unforgiving. “Forget it. I’ve had my little whinge now, I’m all good for a while.”

I angled my head down towards her, trying to meet her eyes which were firmly directed out towards the middle distance. I decided to ask her now; the first time I had really fronted up with the question in over a year. All her little jabs and put down’s were typically Fahrenheit to a T but her actual genuine feelings on anything could often be a little hard to construe. And this was something that I truly hoped that I could have her blessing on. It was perhaps the one thing in recent times that I sincerely cared about.  

“You really don’t dislike Eve that… much do you?” I asked, wishing I didn’t place so much emphasis on Fahrenheit’s approval. It was a different story with the boys; most of them approved because Eve was female and friendly to them and she had a nice rack. Box ticked. But Fahrenheit herself was female. And fickle. And sometimes… overprotective. “She’s a cool chick; I reckon you’d get along if you had a proper conversation with her. You’re actually both a lot alike.”

Fahrenheit tilted her head towards me, clearly displeased by the comparison. “Oh please, I ain’t nothing like that blithering space case.” She stayed firm on the point for a little and then, for the first time that afternoon, cracked the smallest smile. “Ah… she’s all right. I suppose. Ain’t nothing personal, I was just a bit blown away when you walked on out with her way you did. I mean, I’ve seen you do some shit just to get laid but that was unexpected, even by your standards. She seems like she’s smart enough… you know, for a dumb broad. And yeah, she ain’t half bad on the eye but that was never enough to hold your interest for so long.” She gave a long suffering sort of sigh. “And she’s such a freakin’ holier than thou little goody-gum drops. Wouldn’t figure _that_ would ever be your type.”

I frowned a little, turning my head so I could blow a ring of smoke out over the milling heads of the Goodneighbor populace. “She ain’t really a goody-goody, Mel. She just puts on a nice enough front when she meets new folks. Totally chill and normal when you get to know her. Funny as fuck, too.”

“Well, whatever.” She muttered disinterestedly, flicking ash from her cigarette over the side of the balcony before sticking the filter roughly back between her lips. “I just hope you get around to fucking her soon, so you work all this shit outta your system and life goes back to normal around here.”

I gave her a little look, thinking to myself that this felt much too similar to Magnolia’s ‘near lecture’ only a few minutes earlier. “The hell are you tryin’ to suggest with _that_ , Fahrenheit?”

She flashed me a look, one brow falling down low over her left eye. “Oh don’t even bother with that nonsense, Hancock. We both know you know what I mean.” She took another puff from her smoke, though not to stall for time in the least. Simply because she had no concerns about this conversation and was relaxed enough to continue with the usual routine without pause. “You are fucking _infatuated_ because you’ve finally met a chick who likes you, gets along with you but hasn’t let you slip it in there. You’ve built this all up in your head because you’ve had to hold off and it’s gotten you all horny and delirious and… putting _way_ too much emphasis on stuff that you, _you_ Hancock – wouldn’t normally give the time of day!”

It was a point I didn’t like but a point that I had at least considered in my own time. Just why precisely I found myself so utterly beguiled by Eve; why, when she was merely pretty but not beautiful, that I found her to be the most astonishing looking woman I had ever laid eyes on. Why I thought of her near constantly; when so many other things required my time and attentions. Why, if she was so ordinary, did I find her to be exemplary?

But I had answered these questions many times over in my own ponderings; why she was a standout to me, above and beyond all other women, indeed _people_ I had ever met in my life. Being from a different world to my own, she had a way of speaking that was so amusing and yet so charming that it always made me smile to hear it. And whilst she was dopey and dorky at times, she was never naïve or unworldly; even in a world that was wholly unfamiliar to her. She was a patient judge of human character and so accommodating of other people’s shortcomings. She never placed unfair expectations on a person and waited simply for them to reveal themselves, piece by piece to her until she could assess them in their entirety, for whatever they were.

But she was also fierce. Much fiercer than most anyone had ever been able to see and uncompromising when it came to defending herself and those she cared about. Like a sleeping Yao Guai; whose claws came out only when its cubs were encroached and then she was fearless and combative. And I had seen her do astonishing things. Things I could not imagine many people would be capable of doing and she handled it with bravery and class and constant care and love to those that she put herself in service to. Her practicality allowed her to persevere and overcome where others might fall flat on their face.

And what she had gone through in such short order; her own suffering, placed secondary to what she needed to do an indeed what she provided to others, even in just gentle, patient conversation. She never lashed out or distilled her confused anger or sadness onto others and she would certainly have been forgiven for doing so. It was this that caught my attention first and foremost; her near inability to direct her own feelings negatively against others. Sure she ranted and raved and got angry. She wasn’t _that_ much of a goody-gum drops, not matter what Fahrenheit suggested. But she certainly had enough poise and compassion to not take out her own issues on innocent people.

And most of all, she had the guts and the determination to punish those who did set out to victimize the innocent and she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty to do so. This was when she changed in my eyes; when her true feelings about evil and justice came to the forefront. Eve wasn’t much of an apologetic, ‘Oh, I can’t believe I just did that. I wish it hadn’t come to that’ sort. When evil walked across her path, she shouldered her gun, marshalled her nerves and gave evil what for. And I loved her for that.

I loved her for all of it. I loved that she touched me; could rub and caress and be close to me without being disgusted or even worse, preoccupied by pity. I loved her company and that she in turn enjoyed mine; because you sure as shit cannot fake the kind of chemistry that she and I have. I loved that she gave me all that, when for so long I had contented myself with the scant brush of it; had grown accustomed to the wall that I inadvertently constructed between myself and everyone else around me. From the first moment that she had, without hesitation, reached out and wrapped her hand around mine; touched my inside arm so casually and yet with such care. There had been no push with her; no indication that she had needed to propel herself forward with any of these things. It all came so naturally. Her empathy, her warmth… her own need at times. Repressed and corralled but there all the same. Denied through her own need to restrict what might have otherwise been more carnal and expressive but there still. Lingering beneath the surface… warbling like the aftershock of an earth tremor.

She looked at me like I was a man. Her friend. And someone she cared for. And she hadn’t shared my trauma but knew now nearly all of it; almost all my shameful secrets and wasn’t disgusted, or repelled or uncertain about any of that which I had told her. Her feelings towards me seemed almost… unconditional.

And yes, perhaps this had all been exacerbated by the fact that she hadn’t given into me at word go. That perhaps my curiosity had been piqued when, after she and Bobbi had tried unsuccessfully to rob me, I had made up my mind to help her have a good time; with me or with potentially whoever might have taken her fancy. And when this looked to have been Pattie; in all his swaggering, good looking-ness, I felt a little twinge of possessiveness flair up in my chest that had forced me to act before anything had transpired. Though this in itself is hardly a flattering confession, I must admit. To see other guys wanting her and that she was receptive in the, uh ‘state’ she had been in that night… it had spiked my desire higher than it might otherwise had been.

I got a kick out of it. Watching Pattie and a few of the others, bringing her in close, thinking they were onto a sure thing and just waiting then until he was about to attempt to lure her away before stepping in and taking her back into my fold. The boy was right, that I used my power to have my way in those situations. Which was something I was adamantly against, except when it came to women. All’s fair in love and war, as they say. And I liked the feeling of knowing I could do that when I wanted. That I could let the other boys rev a girl up, but I would be the one to drive her if I gave a sign that they were to back off.

It hadn’t happened though. Not that night and not for ever subsequent night for the following year. Instead, we shared a different kind of closeness. A kind that I valued, though not necessarily to the exclusion of the other, I must say. But the desire had built up over time; the strengthening of our friendship as much a boon to me as it filled me with frustration. Would I perhaps have been doing what I was doing, drawn to such flagrant lengths to change my life and change my world if Eve had simply conceded to my advances that night over a year ago in the Third Rail?

Perhaps not. But then, I also most likely would not have had the chance to have shared this time with her. This journey, this… mission to save her boy. I wouldn’t have then calmed and stilled the way that I had. Learned to value the permanence of things and the length of which a good person will go to save someone that they love.

I wouldn’t have gotten to know Eve properly; to appreciate her gentleness and warmth and impenetrable determination. To be challenged by her but never disrespected or devalued. To always be approached from a place of caring. To be her safe person and her mine.

To miss her like this and to know absolutely and without question that yes. Yes, I was infatuated with her. Truly and deeply and ridiculously so. To the degree that it seemed to split my chest and drive me absolutely raving bonkers to not even know now whether she was alive or even safe.

But I was not infatuated wholly with her as a woman; but as a person. I loved her in each and every aspect that you might appreciate another and it was for this very reason that I knew, beyond doubt that I would never ‘get her out of my system’.

When I reiterated this in abridged, point form to Fahrenheit, she responded typically with a snort of disdain.

“Yeah, well, isn’t that just _gorgeous_ and all.” She sniffed, looking completely unswayed as she took another puff of her cigarette. “Tell me then; you and your little soulmate so beautifully in sync you could tell her just about anything, yeah?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.” I said with some confidence. Hadn’t seen Eve balk at much I had told her about my life and I had told her some pretty cringe worthy shit at times.

“She know that you and I fucked way back when?”

I shook my head. “Hadn’t given her the knowledge, no. But I know she wouldn’t worry about it, none. Girl doesn’t judge shit like that.”

Fahrenheit huffed again, still unconvinced it seemed. “Well… isn’t _she_ the enlightened one. All right; does she know that you and I had a threesome with a client when we worked as whores? Or haven’t you even told her that you used to turn tricks for caps back in the day?”

She was getting the slightest bit mean now and I gave her a small look from the corner of my eyes; suggesting that she not bite off more than she could chew with this exchange. “I told her I used to be a whore, yeah. And that I slept with men as well and had a few double up appointments here and there. Didn’t throw your name in though, no. Figured you mighta wanted me to preserve your privacy a little.”

“You sure it wasn’t about tryin’ to make yourself look better for little Miss Perfect?”

I took another drag from my rollie, sighing with genuine irritation now. “Yeah, yeah all right Fahrenheit, _fine._ I get it. You ain’t a fan. Can’t see why, considering she’s a perfectly lovely person and all but I ain’t gonna spend any more time tryin’ to convince ya if you ain’t wanting to be convinced.”

“It’s not about wanting or not wanting to be convinced, Hancock.” Fahrenheit groaned, tilting her head towards me with an irritated expression on her face. “I ain’t interested in sharing your fucking godlike worship of the chick, is all. I just… can’t get my head around what you see in her. She’s glib and… wimpy and…”

“She reminds me of Thomas.”

That cut her off short and she was quiet for a moment then, taking a good long time to stare at me, waiting to see if I would perhaps retract this comment or make a joke out of it. When she saw that I was serious, she snorted derisively.

“Thomas? Oh, give me a fucking break…”

“What, you can’t see any similarities?”

“Thomas was a smart-mouthed little bitch who wasn’t afraid to go toe to toe with anyone. Not to mention he was part fucking _Chinese_.” She swirled her finger towards her temple, clearly mocking my mentality at having made this comparison. “He had four times the balls that your little miss has… god rest his soul, poor kid.”

It was true that the comparison between Eve and Thomas was somewhat a stretch. Whilst Eve was a sensitive, people pleasing, straight woman, Thomas had been a sassy, smart talking and no shits given gay man. He had been much louder than Eve. More verbose, more combative and much less concerned with what others thought about him. On the surface they could have not been any less alike than chalk and cheese.

And yet they were both, indisputably at their core, nurturing and loving of others and readily prepared to put themselves on the line to protect those that they felt responsible for. Neither could stand victimization and despised bullies and thugs.

“You put Eve in any situation that Thomas was in and she would have chested up just the same way.” I insisted, pulling in another drag from my rollie. I kept hoping it would calm me more than it was but Fahrenheit’s mood kept heightening my adrenal levels. “She’s a lot like him when it comes to the people that she cares about… and it’s… weird, you know? Her married name was _Thomson._ Eve _Thomson._ ”

“Yeah, so what? It’s a coincidence.”

“Well of course it’s a coincidence, Fahrenheit, I’m just saying that it’s weird is all.”

“You’re the one who’s being weird. I mean, just _look_ at all this shit.” She gestured broadly towards the interior of the Statehouse; her expression just as disgusted as if she had inadvertently stumbled across a Raider dumping ground.

“You hate it.” I stated. Oh brilliant, Hancock. With observational skills like that, I should be up and joining Valentine’s Detective Agency.

“I don’t hate it.” She said, not sounding the least bit convincing. “I just don’t see why you’ve gotta go and become some fucking woosy nester. Ain’t half obvious who you did all this shit for. You’ve practically gone and put a skirt on the place and painted its nails.”

“Yeah well, maybe I have but you know what? I actually do prefer it like this.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Oh please…”

“No, I’m serious-”

“You are having yourself on, John.” She growled impatiently. “If you genuinely preferred things this way, you had over ten fucking years to make these changes! Instead, you start making them the minute you get back from your year abroad with this girl you’ve been out tarting about with. Now I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it; just don’t kid yourself about how you feel.”

I took a long deep breath and slowly brought both hands down to rest on the balustrade; taking a moment to marshal my patience before speaking. It wasn’t as though I _needed_ to bring Fahrenheit around to my way of thinking but the damn girl could be so fucking bull-headed sometimes that she would refuse to pull the positive from any situation simply because she wanted to spite someone.

“Mel... I know how it all sounds, believe you me but… I feel like for the first time in my life, things are beginning to make sense to me.” I let my guard down a little, giving her a soft, genuine look that I hoped accurately conveyed my feelings on the matter. “I don’t wanna just keep on growing old and being pathetic and lonely.”

Fahrenheit stared at me a moment, lip curled with disdain before with a huff, she turned her face away, showing mercy I think. “Well, let’s face it, you’re always going to be pathetic, no matter what you do.”

We both chuckled a little at this and I reached over to poke the side of her arm, rocking her on the balls of her feet a little.

“Come on kid, you must know what I’m talking about, you ain’t no spring chicken anymo-”

“Fucking careful there son…” She hissed, pointing her cigarette laden hand at me threateningly. At only thirty years of age, Fahrenheit was hardly old but it was the one thing that she did happen to be quite sensitive about. For whatever reason.

“Okay, well, you’re getting _older_ now. Ain’t there a part of you that wants to belong to just one person?”

She snorted at me unappreciatively. “Come on, don’t play me for a goddamned fool. You know damn well there is.”

I smiled up at her, leaning over again to push my shoulder against her hip. “She asked after you, you know?”

“Worried about that little stab wound that _you_ seem to think I gave myself just so I could wiggle my ass in her face?”

“You got it.” I said, my smile widening so that I must have looked positively mean. I flicked some ash off of the side of the balcony and added; “The stab wound which you didn’t bother mentioning to _me_ , I might add.”

“It did actually happen, ya stupid prick. Just couldn’t see the point in telling you about the fight; way your heads been up in the clouds lately.” She took another drag from her cigarette, glancing subtly around my head to look off towards the Memory Den. Her expression didn’t give much away but the smoothness of her forehead and the straight line of her mouth meant that she was most likely touched. “Nice that she asked though…”

“She did seem worried.” I clarified. “You know, in her usual exasperated kinda fashion. Get your ass back over and see the old girl; have your self-inflicted injury patched up.” I copped the kick that she delivered to the side of my leg. “Who knows; might get the nerve up one of these days to let her know what’s going on in that little heart of yours.”

I straightened up and leaned over, twisting my arm around her middle and tugging her to my side, planting a loud kiss on the side of her temple. She absolutely fucking _hated_ when I did this and now was no exception. She struggled like an angry fish caught in a net.

“Oh, get the hell off, you idiot!” She yelled, using both arms to finally push me away and straighten out her shirt with an offended huff. It looked as though she was about to reprimand me further but a flurry of activity had currently broken out below us and she was distracted by her need to attend to her duties. A number of the Neighborhood Watch fellas and a spattering of random folks aside were all flocking beneath the balcony and around the corner; heading for the front gate as far as I could tell.

“What the fuck?” I questioned, quirking my brow up curiously. “Don’t tell me I forgot to pay the bastards last week… Fahrenheit, is this one of them… what you call ‘em… union strikes or something?”

“Oh come on, be serious.” She snapped, leaning her upper torso over the railing and calling out towards Ryan, who was lingering down below; looking slightly less interested in what was occurring but still remaining on point. “Oi! Accardo! Mind explainin’ why the boys are all abandoning their posts?”

Ryan glanced up and gave an ironic little scoff. “Eh, why ya reckon, Fahrenheit? Fireman just called in over the walkie; said he got caught up in some Raider trouble just outsida town. Sounds like they bailed up the group your little lady friend runs with, boss.”

I just about toppled off of the balcony, cursing at myself for not keeping a walkie on me during the day. They had only been implemented shortly as a way for the Neighborhood Watch to keep in contact with one another whilst on shifts and both Fahrenheit and myself were also meant to be carrying one for security reasons. Looks like we both needed a boot in the ass for this one.

“Wait… did he say if Eve is with them? Is she okay?!”

Ryan took one look at my face and started laughing, shaking his head in mirth. “Never mind the others, ay boss? Said everyone’s fine, including _her._ Just called to say they’re all heading in now and could we make sure’in the gates are unlocked. Boys are just creamin’ their pants at a chance to jump on the chicks.”

My ears had gone a little numb so that every sound now proceeded to fade into silence. After this last month of hoping… waiting and pining… she was _here_. She was finally here!

And I’d as much as promised Meyer that I was going to chest up and tell her how I felt this time around. Shit. I was hoping to have a little more time to prepare than this but oh well.

I wanted to see her so badly that I nearly did something very foolish and hooked my good leg up over the side of the balcony rail so that I could jump the twenty feet to the ground below. Fahrenheit luckily still had her wits about her and was able to grab me in time and pull me back.

“NO! Use the _stairs,_ you fucking idiot – you’ll end up breaking your leg all over again!!”

“Oh… yeah. Course, the stairs. Gotcha.” I clasped the other side of her face, gave her a big kiss on the cheek, which she retched at and then ripped the balcony door open, flicking the end of my rollie away to some unknown location. I lurched inside, my brain flying out in all different directions, trying to think of what I should do first.

I buzzed around in the room in a desperate flurry; pulling the bed together as neatly as possible and straightening out the blankets on the sofas, before throwing open the two shutters which I had closed to try and keep the heat out. Sunlight bathed the room and I gasped in horror as it in turn illuminated the layer of dust on all the surfaces. I grabbed up my sleeve in my hand and quickly raced around, wiping everything down as best I could and then smacking at my sleeve to try and remove the dust from it. As I was doing this, I got a good whiff from under my arms. Jesus Christ, I smelt like a musky old Molerat that had been left for dead in the sun for a week. Not to mention my shirt had pit stains underneath it. Good god, why don’t people bother saying anything? Had I been walking around smelling like this all _day?_

I groaned with desperate annoyance, ripping off my shirt just as Fahrenheit walked back into the room from the balcony. Her return groan was one of disgust and she held both hands up to cover her face as she edged past me and back towards the stairwell.

“Oh for fucks sake, you’re not going down to meet her shirtless are you?” She asked, ignoring my return growl as I ripped open the middle drawer of my credenza and started hurling clothing liberally and indiscriminately. “Hate to burst your bubble Hancock, but you’re actually prettier the more clothes that you put _on._ And the more distance you put between yourself and a functioning pair of eyes.”

“Thanks Mel. That’s just the boost of self-confidence that I needed at a delicate time like this.” I said sarcastically as I finally unearthed a clean shirt; same in design as the one I had just shed. I slid it loosely onto my arms and then quickly shoved all the clothing I had unearthed back into the drawer until it was bulging and refusing to close. I reshuffled a few items and managed to force it shut finally before foisting up the dirty shirt and throwing it into the laundry hamper.

Fahrenheit shook her head and sighed sadly as she took her leave, very thoughtfully allowing the doors to remain open so that the guys outside could have gotten a look at me changing if they were masochistic enough to look. Fortunately for all of us however, Rob and Jack were nowhere to be seen; clearly having abandoned their posts to go and perve on the girls when they got into town. Too bad if the Raider’s ever got wind of the guys little weakness and used it as a tactic next time they took a swing at the town.

I grabbed up my underarm spray from the top of the credenza and delivered a few good bursts of the antiperspirant under my arms. It felt cold and tingled against my sensitive flesh but it was the best I was going to manage in the time I had available. I would have preferred a shower but this was going to take too long and I really wanted to be waiting at the gate for when Eve actually arrived.

I capped the deodorant and dumped it back on the shelf, picking up one of my many colognes. Being an olfactory sort of guy, this was one of the little luxuries that I did like to purchase for myself and as a Ghoul it really did help to make yourself smell nicer than you might otherwise have done. I also knew for a fact that Eve loved the smell of cologne on a guy and this one in particular she had commented on more than a few times. I splashed some wildly onto my hands and dabbed it around my neck, up behind my ears and over my cheeks. I added a tiny amount to my chest but that was about it. Too much and I was gonna smell like a frightened teenager on his first date.

Having dealt with the smell, I buttoned the shirt up to the rise of my pectorals; leaving the top few buttons undone as I usually did. I thought about going and fetching my waistcoat and jacket, which would help Eve to pick me out of the crowd of other slathering, desperate idiots hounding the front gate but I figured my hat would be distinguishable enough. Besides, it was way too hot to go throwing all that shit on again.

The mirror had a credenza on it and I ducked a little to look into it. I stared for a few moments before pulling a face and scoffing at myself.

“For fucks sake… what am I doing _? Nothing’s_ fixing that shit.” I grumbled, straightening my hat and turning away from the mirror with a snort at my own stupidity. If Eve didn’t know I was ugly by now, then she had spent the last year or so with her head up her ass. And there wasn’t jack shit I could do to my face to make it any more or less presentable. Thank God she had bad eyesight.

I glanced around the room as I tucked my shirt in and retied my sash about my waist. Everything was as much in order as it was likely to be and I didn’t think I could hold myself back a second longer to adjust so much as a floor rug anyway. I tucked out my sleeves, straightening them as best I could and then pushed my limping old body out through the door and towards the stairs. My heart thudded in conjunction with the falling of my feet and my chest welled with such emotion that I knew I wasn’t suppressing it near well enough when it hit my face.

I missed her so much it ached to think of her being just outside of these walls, right here and right now. The spiral in the stairwell seemed to almost mock me by turning me away twice before depositing me mercifully on the ground floor. Reggie was standing in the doorway leading out towards the entry courtyard, keeping one foot inside I think so that he couldn’t be accused of abandoning his duties entirely. When he saw me coming, he held the door open wider and whispered; “Hey, good luck, boss”.

I thanked him as I brushed past; nearly tripping down the steps leading out of the Statehouse in my hurry to see Eve. I managed to right myself at the last second and descended the last two at a much slower and more refined pace; trying to pretend as though I wasn’t as excited as a little boy on Christmas morning.

I wasn’t able to see Eve, or indeed any of the others right away because every male in Goodneighbor, with the exception of those who were gay of course, had crowded themselves into the entry courtyard for a gander at the lady folk in the group. I could see Vincent, who was on Entry Security, standing on the dividing wall and raising one gun up to place down on the stall counter top. He was trying to check the guys’ weapons but the crawling, schmoozing crowd was making it next to impossible.

It was Valentine I caught sight of first; being the tallest and most distinguished looking of the group. I thought about waving to him but he looked very distracted himself, trying to get the weapons passed along to Vinnie, whilst shooting unappreciative looks at the horny watchmen. I moved a little closer to the crowd, standing on the tips of my toes to try and peer over the waving, bobbing heads.

Meyer suddenly appeared at my side; the wicker basket still swinging on his arm, with a few good helpings of Hub flowers perched within. He smirked at the no doubt keening expression on my face and then turned to gesture through the crowd; as though he were pointing out something to a feeble old woman.

“She’s just there, _Capo._ Try and be cool, eh?”

I followed the line of Meyer’s arm and felt my heart stampede even more wildly as she finally came into view. She looked a little tired but was smiling still as she accepted a hug from Carmine; who held on just that slightest bit too long to make it look appropriately friendly. She tolerated it as per usual, though I saw her eyes trail over to glance pointedly at someone off to the side, who was no doubt commiserating with her situation.

I let out a breath that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Her skin was darker; tanning up from running about in the warmer weather I imagined but everything else remained the same. Her face wasn’t nearly as bruised as last time and she still had all her limbs, which was a relief. Her lipstick and makeup looked very fresh, as though she had only just done it before walking in the gate. I wondered if I wasn’t the only one worried with freshening up for the reunion.

I watched her, admiring simply and waiting for her to catch sight of me rather than push my way through the crowd like an emotional idiot. After releasing Carmine, she gave him a small parting smile which quickly fell into a straight line as she glanced back and forth through the crowd, distracted and searching. I wondered if she was looking for me and I stood smiling with my arms crossed, waiting until her eyes swung back in my direction before giving a casual wave of my hand.

Her mouth opened slightly and then pressed shut again, the corners lifting up to form an almost moronic looking smile. Her eyes fluttered to half-mast; an expression not unlike the one she wore when looking at Dogmeat or some other cute animal. I think she might have been welling up.

There was too much talk and hustle going on for me to hear but I saw her mouth form my name. _“John…_ ” She said and the look on her face made me feel weak; dropped the smile from my own mouth and sent a thrashing shiver down through my body. The idea that she and I could simply pick up where we left off I knew now was ridiculous. The expression on her face plainly said that she was feeling much the same way I was. I knew this now beyond a sliver of a doubt.

Just as I knew that something was about to happen. At long last, we had reached that point in our journey where our paths were destined to cut across one another’s and collide. All that was needed now was for one of us to put our hands to the throttle.

**~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey everybody! Well done for making it and hope that you enjoyed! I know I keep saying next chapter will be out relatively soon and all but most honestly this next one shouldn’t take very long at all as it was originally supposed to be the first chapter way back when! With the exception of changing a few things here and there, it shouldn’t be too much work. Fingers crossed!
> 
> As usual, a few notes for this chapter: 
> 
> 1.) Meyer and Ryan: These are the two guys that you see with the synth who had been swapped with Sammy. I put them in a kind of partnership with each other; similar to what you see with the ‘Bash Brothers’ from the old Mighty Ducks movies. Big Enforcers who shoulder the towns dirty work first and foremost. They are the first port of call in a fight and are usually sent out first to deal with shit. To elaborate further, Ryan lost three fingers on his right hand to Vic’s goons, simply because he was gay. He now only has his thumb and index finger remaining, which makes his grip resemble a kind of claw shape. This is why the boys very meanly refer to him sometimes as ‘Faglurk’.
> 
> 2.) Statehouse shower and toilet area: Again, we never actually see anything like this in the Statehouse in the game but screw it, I think it’s a pretty important and necessary thing to have around. In this story it is located in the downstairs area; in the room on the other side of the stairwell from the cell block. I imagine it being a long tiled room, concrete wall right through the middle with the shower nozzles all lined up on the other side; with the wall providing privacy from people entering the door. Toilets would be in stalls along the very right hand side with sinks opposite it. I imagine there would be a sliding sign on the outside to show whether the shower room is occupied by male or female people.
> 
> 3.) Fahrenheit and her relationship with Hancock: I know canon now seems to suggest that Fahrenheit is in fact Hancock’s ‘main squeeze’ so I wanted a way to try to incorporate this without changing too much to the dynamic I had already created in this story. I imagine that some folks might have thought that I was being lazy and looking for an easy way out by making Fahrenheit a gay woman in this story; to try and remove her as competition for Eve but this is actually very far from the fact. I actually thought it was far too easy for her to be sleeping with Hancock, simply because she is a woman who is in close contact with him every day. As it stands, Fahrenheit does still stand as main competition to Eve for Hancock’s attentions. Fahrenheit has a long, complicated and emotional history with Hancock. She is very protective of him and vice versa and he is the only male that she does actually love. She cannot however physically love him because of the trauma from her past. Fahrenheit views Eve as a Johnny-come lately who is undermining her own connection with Hancock and she in doesn’t like this. Just wanted to clear that up in case folks thought I wasn’t being true enough to the subject matter.
> 
> 4.) Daytripper: I imagine it is kind of like taking Diazepam and probably just about as addictive. Being an alcoholic already, Eve enjoys things that just numb her anxiety at times and allow her to be able to relax and be at peace. I imagine that if Daytripper was more readily available; she would be already addicted to it by that stage in her journey.
> 
>  5.) Hancock and numbers: Hancock is a bit of a savant when it comes to guesstimating distances and almost accurately predict how two objects might come together in a certain way, based on the velocity and distance they are from each other. He demonstrated this in the first chapter, when he said that the display case would have been positioned in such a way that it would impact on the stairwell; preventing from pushing the street door open. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed everyone! Please feel free to comment, kudos, drop an email, whatever. It all helps keep me motivated to keep on going! I hope that you are all safe and happy wherever you find yourselves in the world right now and I look forward to speaking with you all in the next chapter! Now, I simply must return control of the computer to my very patient husband, who has been fighting me for control of it so that he can play Ark Survivor – The DinoRider game or whatever the fuck it’s called, I don’t know. All I know is that some of his dinosaurs make stupid fucking noises and his character can defecate whilst standing up. So glad my Sole Survivor doesn’t do this, can you imagine? Valentine hated that.  
> Take care my lovelies and I will see you again soon! 
> 
> All my love  
> ~ MadamMortis~


	8. Dispensation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He left my embrace and turned and propelled himself down the hill; moving like a yellow lighted bat out of hell. I never imagined I would ever see Xavier again. I couldn’t see how it would be possible mind and in all honesty, in light of everything that followed in the hell that was Vault 111; I barely gave him another passing thought. The world that he was a part of was gone forever and so too was the brief time that he had shared that world with me. I bestowed my memories to that bygone age and allowed it to drift away; as words inscribed upon a letter within the confines of a bottle. A thing you might never expect to see returned to your own shore, having cast it adrift so long ago.
> 
> That was until one month… no… two-hundred and ten years and one month later. In the town of Goodneighbor; respite of the down and out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fallout 4 or any of its characters as featured in this work of fiction. I don’t even own rights to some of the conversations had in this chapter, because they are plucked directly from the game itself. I’m sure you can figure out which. Hey, you guys are here because you love the game, right?
> 
> A/N: Welcome back my lovely Fallout 4 loving darlings! I hope as usual that you are all doing well and that life is treating you kindly. If things seem a little hard at the moment, I would like you to take a moment to consider the fact that there are actual devices out there that you can buy which specifically slice bananas. Not just any sort of slicer, mind you. But a banana slicer. When I see things like this, it gives me hope in an otherwise desolate world at times. Vault Tec rep could probably have used one of these to cheer himself up in the two centuries of misery he endured. If, you know, there were banana’s around to slice.
> 
> I was hoping, as usual, to have this chapter out faster than expected but then I went and scrapped most of the previously written material and put in a whole bunch of new crap instead. And now I’m distracted because my husband is showing me pictures of miniature ponies. Another reason to smile if you needed one, I’m certain. They are adorables!
> 
> So I apologize again for the delay and hope that the content in some way makes up for it! Things are really gonna take off nicely in the next chapter, so I’m looking forward to writing that one in particular.
> 
> Warnings are as follows: Gratuitous language, lots of angst, long involved conversations and some mature themes. And Eve being mopey this time around. And putting on makeup.
> 
> I hope that you enjoy and as usual, I shall see you on the other side!

>  " _You’re my favorite place to visit, when my mind searches for peace.”_ **_~ Unknown ~_**

 

** Eve Hallows **

**_Sanctuary Hills – October 23 rd, 2077…_ **

I couldn’t believe it. He’d just come right up and knocked on the front door.

Just what the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t be pulling this shit, not now! Not with Nate standing _right there_ reading the newspaper!

The bell went again. _Ding-dong._ I dithered with my cup of coffee, (173.5 degrees Fahrenheit) tried without success to look more intensely absorbed in a copy of _Grognak the Barbarian_ than Nate was with the newspaper. I attempted to quash the desperate urge to throw myself to the floor and belly crawl back into the hallway and hide in the pantry cupboard. There was no way he hadn’t already seen me through the transom above the door though and if there’s one thing I couldn’t manage it was being deliberately rude to people. Even people that really just needed _to shove the hell off_!

“Can you get that, hon?” Nate asked, clearly not paying the slightest attention to the fact that I was doing my utmost to _avoid_ going to the door. “It’s probably that salesman again. Whenever I answer, he just asks for you over and over.”

 _Of course…_ I thought, giving a long, internal sigh of defeat. I only had myself to blame though… should have nipped this whole thing in the bud way back when it first started. Or better yet; had the stones to not _let_ it get started in the first place.

I kept my coffee in hand, hoping it would send off a very firm signal that I was in the midst of eating breakfast and keen to get back to it and slowly eased myself off of the barstool. I walked to the door with all the enthusiasm of a lamb to the slaughter. I could see the brim of his hat perched above a pair of startlingly bright green eyes; both of which lit up as I approached. Oh _God_ this was awkward. How did someone as dull and unassuming as me end up in a situation like this?

I would simply have to be firm with the guy. No more of this mooning around, no more carry on. It was one thing to catch me at a disadvantage when I was struggling to get out of the car with several overloaded bags of groceries, it was another matter entirely to brazenly march up to the front door of my house and ring the bell. Right under poor Nate’s nose and everything! This _had_ to stop – I just… I couldn’t _believe_ he had the audacity to _do_ this to me!

I took a deep breath, steeled myself and swung the door open. The stupid smile on his face immediately triggered off my temper and I felt my brows axe in and my own expression grow dangerous.

“Good morning!” He said, doffing his hat all politely as he stepped right up onto the ‘Welcome to our home’ mat. “Vault Tec calling!”

Despite my earlier assurances to myself that I was going to remain polite, the sight of him standing there, ever so casually on the metaphorical bib of our family home, pushed my temper beyond the point that I was able to control it. My intended civil response of, ‘Good morning’ no longer felt adequate; not for the way that the veins in my neck were straining to explode from underneath my skin.  It actually took great restraint on my part not to launch my knock off _Valera_ pump directly into his groin.

If you think that this might seem the slightest bit of an exaggerated response to a salesman coming to my door, you would be correct. Normally, I am the contrite picture perfect expression of courtesy and approachability. Too often, Nate has been required to rescue me from the clutches of various religious factions who had damn near invited themselves in for a cup of tea because I didn’t have the heart to say no to them and their spiel. It’s gotta be a hard job going from door to door trying to inspire interest in people who clearly resent your presence the second they see you. Which is why I tried to be as sweet as pie where possible. I always felt guilty about hurting people’s feelings.

Right at that moment however, I had as little empathy as a starving Rottweiler has for an unguarded steak dinner. And probably just about as dangerous, to boot.

“I am going to throw this perfectly brewed cup of coffee _right_ down the front of your smarmy little over starched suit, Xavier I swear to _God_!” I hissed, leaning right out through the doorway and jabbing the nearly half drunk cup at him as though it were a prison shank carved from a toothbrush. So much for being polite.

Xavier gave a nervous sounding little chuckle and tilted his head down; taking one hand from his clipboard to hold up before himself in defence. “Now, now… there’s no need for any of that, Eve-”

I grunted at him, eyes wide and used my other hand to give him a pointed little shove in the upper chest. “No! _No!_ ” I glanced over my shoulder quickly, hoping that my shriek hadn’t alerted Nate to what was going on. I pulled the door shut a little further and stepped out to the stoop; trying to keep our conversation as veiled as possible. I whispered, “It’s Mrs Thomson… _Mrs_ , okay? You can’t…” I stared at him pleadingly, clutching my spare hand around my cup of coffee to try and keep it from trembling. “You _can’t_ keep _doing_ this, Xavier. You can’t just… come up to the house where my son and husband are, you-”

He offered up a big bawdy game show host laugh, which I think he purposefully intended to carry into the living area. “Yes ma’am, it _is_ a beautiful morning, _isn’t it?_ ” Having stressed this, he lowered his voice now and leaned a little closer to me, adding; “ _This is for work,_ Mrs _Thomson_.”

“ _Ooh…”_ I drawled, feeling immediately embarrassed and more than a little ashamed of myself for going in on the attack the way that I had. I could see now that the Vault Tec van was parked in the street behind Xavier; so he must have been back from doing the rounds in Concord. _“Oh, okay. Sorry.”_

“ _Honest mistake.”_ He whispered back, taking a moment to shuffle some of the paperwork on his clipboard; bringing one particular sheet to the forefront and pinning it in place.

“ _I just thought with… you know, you might have been… like last week with the groceries...”_

_“No, no… strictly work related duties this time. Can’t blame you for being wary though. I did ruin a perfectly good cauliflower.”_

_“Still… I shouldn’t have threatened to pour coffee all over your suit, that’s not very diplomatic. And it’s not particularly over starched… although you might want to use some fabric softner when you wash your shirt next. Just a suggestion.”_

_“I tried Abraxo but I guess it just didn’t want to take…”_

_“Try LightningZap. Always works a charm with the work blouses. Takes the crinkle right out of them.”_

_“Oh, okay. Thanks for the advice.”_ He straightened up then, his eyes once more assuming that slightly manic, overzealous shimmer which represented his shift into work mode and resumed his previous spiel with a loud, slightly over-rehearsed manner that I’m certain he adopted more for Nate’s hovering sake than my own. “You can’t _begin_ to know how happy I am to finally speak with you. I’ve been trying for days. It’s a matter of utmost urgency, I assure you.”

Which certainly hadn’t been helped by the fact that I had been actively trying to ignore him for the past two _months_. God forbid if we ever had an intruder or something hiding out in our roof and Xavier was the only one in possession of the knowledge, because I most likely would have had my throat slit before actually permitting him to have a moment alone with me to pass on the information.

I plastered on a smile, playing along with the act just as much as he was. Pretending that I was in someway not completely terrified and consumed with guilt over his mere presence on my doorstep.

“Well… just what could be so important that you would need to go to such strains to speak with me, _sir?_ ” I queried, adding as much emphasis to the ‘sir’ as he had to the ‘Mrs’ earlier.

Xavier’s expression stretched into one of practiced grandiose and alarm; purely theatrical in design and entirely intended to entice. A tried and practiced trick of the sales merchant. “Why… nothing _less_ than your entire future! If you haven’t noticed, _ma’am_ , this country has gone to heck in a hand basket. If you’ll excuse my language.” He held up both hands, branching them apart as though to emulate something bursting between them. “The big kaboom is… it’s inevitable, I’m afraid. And coming sooner than you may think. If you catch my meaning.”

I bit back a chuckle. Xavier’s practiced routine notwithstanding, he was never able to entirely hide nor diminish his intense fear of nuclear war. The guy nearly jumped out of his skin whenever a firecracker was let off come the Fourth of July, for fucks sake. I had a sneaking suspicion that someone must have traumatized him in his youth by dropping a cherry bomb in the back of his pants or some such thing. I guess working for Vault Tec made him feel… I don’t know, _safe_ or something. The guy even had his own miniaturized fall out bunker in the crawl space beneath his house; just in case he wasn’t able to make it to the nearest Vault before the bombs fell. ‘Being prepared for the future’ took on a whole new dimension for this man.

Xavier must have seen my smile and mistook it for some manner of concession on my part, because his shoulder’s immediately relaxed about a hairs breadth; which for him was something of a major development. He was so fearfully high strung, poor fella.

“Now, I know you’re a busy woman, so I won’t take up much of your time. Time being a, um, precious commodity…”

There was something pointed in the way that he said this but I continued to do my utmost to avoid his passive aggressive little barbs when they jabbed through his otherwise well-rehearsed diatribe.

“I’m here today to tell _you_ that because of your family’s service to our country, you have been pre-selected for entrance into the local Vault.” He arched his arms up over his head, as though giving a physical and noble demonstration of the sun rising above the crest of a hill. “Vault 111.”

Well now… there was a little fringe benefit I _hadn’t_ been expecting; total underground protection in the event of nuclear war. A most likely to be entirely _wasted_ benefit as it were, because like most Americans living in that time I hardly imagined that the war would ever find its way to our shores. At least, not in the dramatic fashion of total atomic annihilation. I mean, I understood enough from being the wife of a war veteran to know that war was real and transpiring all about the globe, even as I stood there in my morning best; slurping on my perfectly brewed cup of coffee. But I was still just far enough away from it and arrogant enough in the fortitude of my country to believe that it would never grace our lives in such a direct manner. The Vaults, in my opinion, were a big flagrant waste of taxpayer funds. We had homelessness running rife, food shortages, increased crime rates, the _war_ effort itself… and here all this money was being sunk into a resource that was most likely never going to be used. Shit used to piss me off whenever I saw it on the news.

So little one knows, huh?

I wondered just how much information Vault Tec had on us; especially given the newest addition to our family. Well of course Xavier had to know… what _didn’t_ that guy know about me these days? But I still had to ask.

“You know I have a family. Are Vault Tec able to fit us all?”

“Of course. Of course! Minus your robot, naturally.” Xavier replied with a smile. A part of me suspected that he might have like to have excluded my husband from the equation and allow Codsworth to join us instead. Though the idea of leaving Codsworth behind pained me a great deal more than it should have done. He was only a… a service robot after all. But even as I floated this thought through my mind, I knew for certain that I didn’t at all agree with it. I owed that ‘service robot’ my life and my sanity. He was a member of the family, through and through. Leaving him behind would have been inexorably painful.

Xavier must have seen the sadness that had leeched across my face at this thought because he bungled his next few words in his efforts to bring my attention back to our discussion.

“I-In – in fact, you’re already cleared for entrance. It’s… just a matter of verifying some information. Don’t want there to be any hold ups, in the unforeseen event of -” He paused to clear his throat, allowing a moment to work the nervous titter out of his voice. “… total atomic annihilation. Won’t take but a moment.”

I held my hand up to attempt to slow him down a little. “Can you just… tell me a little more about this vault before we skip ahead to signing anything?”

He looked only the slightest bit annoyed at having to delay the foisting over of the paperwork but Xavier handled his disappointment with the proficient poise of a dedicated professional. “Oh, it has all the amenities of the modern home, I assure you. Not to mention total protection from nuclear radiation and hostile mutants. A better future, underground. It’s not only our mission – it’s our passion.”

I half expected him to thrust his arm out and give me a big thumbs up, just like the Vault Boy did in all those dopy commercials on the television. Christ almighty, just how much did they have to brainwash their employees to make them all sound so fucking pious and enthusiastic? I always knew that Xavier was a manic, high blood pressure individual but good Lord. Sometimes I wasn’t sure whether he was actually a Sales Rep for a multi-conglomerate organisation or an indoctrinator for some kind of mind controlling cult. Although how subtle the variations were between these two I could hardly begin to tell you.

I think he could see that I was close to losing my shit and giggling like a loony because his brows lowered a little and he tilted his chin in close to his chest; eyes peering scoldingly from beneath the ridge of his forehead. His classic, very subtle gesture of annoyance. I decided to cut to the chase and get it all sorted so I could reef him out of my doorway before he got it in his head to make any trouble for me. Guy could be a little spiteful at times and I wouldn’t put it past him to let slip the odd comment that might just go and attract Nate’s attention.

“Sure. Let’s do it.”

“Splendid! Splendid. Now let’s see…”

He made to step up and into the house at this point and just about every nerve in my body tensed as though he were coming at me with a loaded gun. There was just… no way in hell he thought that I could… not after what…

“No!” I yelped and immediately regretted not keeping a firm hold on my emotions because Nate had most definitely heard this. I saw him from the corner of my eye, tilting his head concerned as he drifted over in a seemingly nonchalant manner; paper still clasped in one hand but eyes on me the whole while. On the bright side, I think that his only real concern was that I was being bullied about by an overzealous salesman, not that there was any other manner of unsavoury activity afoot.

“I mean, uh…” I turned back to Xavier and yanked my biggest, brightest most bullshit eating smile onto my face. “It’s just that… I’m so embarrassed! The house is such a fright, you know? Why there’s barely an inch of room on the table to lay so much as a fork down, let alone all that paperwork that you’re carrying!”

“Mum, I can assure you that that is quite far from the truth!” I heard Codsworth explain indignantly from behind me. I turned to flash an annoyed look at my much beloved and usually almost always appreciated Butler-bot, attempting to convey without words that he wasn’t helping my situation any. Clearly this was lost somewhere in translation because he continued to sing the houses praises to the very utmost of his ability. “Why, I set the table myself this morning; as per the regulation standards as required by the finest in General Atomics service support line. Not a speck of dust to be seen and space a plenty for any number of extracurricular activities aside! Why, I even cleared a perfunctory space between the cereal bowls for you and sir to hold hands whilst you eat, as you seem to be so fond of doing.”

Oh Jesus God almighty, this was going the slightest bit far, wasn’t it? As if Nate and I weren’t already accused of being far too lovey dovey these days; drifting leisurely as we were through our refreshed and renewed second Honeymoon phase. I sighed with annoyance, well aware that the jig was up with this particular excuse and then turned back to Xavier; who was giving me a look that said quite plainly that he was well aware of what I was up to and was not the least bit interested in helping me out. Not that I was prepared to let him win and get his foot in the door of _my_ marital home, just so he could sashay about under my poor innocent husbands nose; no siree.

“Well then, it seems a pity to waste such a beautiful morning!” I attempted, gesturing off towards the street with my cup of coffee; damn near sloshing the quickly cooling remnants down the front of my new blouse. “Why don’t we complete the paperwork outside? Surely you have something I can lean on in the back of your van, good sir?”

Xavier gave a commiserating little chuckle, waving the clipboard from side to side with a breezy air. “But of course, ma’am! Vault Tec _always_ comes prepared for any eventuation; be it minor or catastrophic in nature! Why, if you’ll follow me down to the van we can have this all straightened out in a jiffy!”

I flashed him a big, fake smile; the kind which involves a person blatantly scrunching up their eyes, nose, face and general overall being in another person’s direction. The one which said ‘I’m pretending to be grateful to you, but resenting you at the same time’. He pretended in turn not to notice it and turned to walk back over towards the Vault Tec van, whistling what sounded like ‘It’s all over’. Was he trying to make a point or… oh, no of course not. It was playing on the car radio; I could hear the engine running now. Jesus, all this deception was starting to make me paranoid.

I assured Nate that I would only be a moment and followed Xavier down towards the van, the smile dropping off my face the moment I was a few steps away from the house. When I reached him, he was opening up the dual doors on the back of the van and extending what looked to be a portable table of some sort; the legs of which he unhooked and unravelled so that they braced themselves against the ground. The smile had dropped off of his face also.

“What? Were you actually worried I’d come up into your house and start spilling all your secrets to your husband?” He muttered, having dispensed entirely with the smooth talking veneer he had affected up on the doorstep.

I sighed as I stepped up beside the steel table top, placing my cup down and taking the pen that he had dropped there for me. “I don’t know… I just… didn’t want to risk it. Why’d you have to come all the way up to the house anyway? I _asked_ you to give me some space.”

“Madam, this is _work._ ” He reminded me, his voice a little harsh as he smacked the clipboard down onto the tabletop and indicated the form that he wished for me to fill in. “And I wouldn’t have needed to bother you at your precious little house of deceit if _you_ could have spared two seconds to speak with me at your car the other week.”

“If I remember correctly, you started with ‘Eve, we need to talk’.” I hissed, perching on the back towbar of the van so that I could take a closer look at the paperwork. My concentration was a little shot to shit at the time however, so I started with what I could manage; filling in the family members names. “To me, that doesn’t exactly ring ‘ _Vault Tec calling’_ so much as, ‘Hey. How’s about you and I go and talk in detail about that awkward thing you clearly don’t want to talk about. Like ever. _Clearly’_.”

“Yes well, forgive me if I’m not interested in going along with your convenient little lie.” Xavier snapped, leaning over slightly so as to indicate where I had apparently made a mistake. “No, no, you circled that _you_ were in service with the armed forces. You need to dash that out and circle below, where it lines up with your husbands’ name.”

“Well it _is_ a little hard to concentrate at the moment.” I grumbled, using the pen to put a few dashes through the circle I had made and then drawing a loop around the identical phrase below it. “I’m sitting out here, filling in paperwork with a man who thought it would somehow be acceptable to shove his tongue into a married woman’s mouth. But hey, not like _that’s_ a reasonable excuse for circling the wrong bloody thing on such a very important form like Vault Tec’s ‘Future Happiness’ Identifier.”

Xavier gave me a very impatient look; which I think had more to do with my making fun of the paperwork than it did my earlier statement. “Well for one, it _is_ a very important form, _Mrs Thomson._ Unless of course you would like your experience underground to be marred with inappropriate food choices, inadequate bedding and vastly restricted access to exercise amenities.” He raised his hand and flipped up two fingers, as though making the peace sign. “And secondly; I seem to recall that it was _you_ who came blundering up to my house, crying your eyes out in the middle of the night. And you, I might add, who went and kissed me _first._ ”

I reached over and jabbed my index finger into his stomach. “Hey, _you_ didn’t have to kiss me back, mister! _You_ were the one who was clearly in control of your faculties that night!”

He leaned closer now, kneeling so that his hands were perched on top of his knees and so that our noses were almost touching. “Like I was going to turn you away. You know full well how I feel about you, which was why you came running to me in the first place.”

I felt the shame and guilt wash over me again until just about every nuance in my body throbbed and burned with the evidence of my misstep. It was true; I _had_ sought Xavier out that night. He had been such a wonderful support to me when Nate had returned to the warfront; leaving me in this lonely, still developing neighborhood, heavily pregnant and struggling to get by.

It had all been very innocent and I had never intended for it to go to that next extreme, not ever. Xavier wasn’t even my type; not in physicality or personality. But he was a decent man and he had been very good to me. Long before we had purchased Codsworth, I was still doing all the domestic work myself, but without my father or Nate around to help or any friends in the immediate area, the yard started getting out of control. Xavier had moved into the area around six months into my pregnancy and had introduced himself one afternoon when I and my big fat belly had been trying to squeeze out of the car with a satchel of groceries. Naturally, the war between my belly and the bag had come to grief and the groceries quickly turned to collateral damage all down the driveway. Xavier had suddenly appeared from across the street and pursued an errant orange all the way down into another neighbor’s yard, much to my amusement. He actually ran with his arms out in front of him, as though he was chasing a small child and attempting to scoop them up before they ran afoul of something dreadful.

Despite the fact that he presented as a bit of a yuppie snob; I liked that he was friendly and upbeat. Nate had been so dour and dreary after returning from the war; though I certainly didn’t begrudge him for his trauma. But I do admit, it was nice to be around someone so… effervescent again. I hadn’t been feeling particularly cheery myself during those long lonely days and Xavier promoted such a positive air in conversation that I found it almost impossible to remain down in the dumps around him.

Xavier was also going through something of a life transition; having just moved to Sanctuary Hills after separating with his wife. He had been able to liquidate enough of his once reportedly impressive number of assets to buy again, which was very fortunate given the nations trying financial times. But then I suppose that there are benefits to being employed in the same job for the past twenty years; he had been able to claim long service on two occasions supposedly. Not to mention having acquired a handsome signature watch and an inscribed pen; which I so happened to be filling the form in with.

I think he’d been having a pretty hard time adjusting himself. He was the classic busy little businessman; accustomed to working all day and then coming home to his wife and a hot meal of a night. He was trying to teach himself to cook, he explained with a slightly abashed look on his face. But just didn’t quite have the knack.

We were able to strike up a deal that was mutually beneficial; he would drop in to do the occasional yard work for me and I would reward him with a warm meal and a good drink for his efforts. He simply refused to take money from me in exchange for the help. Though he did manage to squeeze a few cooking lessons out of me, which could only have benefitted him in the long term, I believe. Because of our friendship he now knew how to make Cheat Lasagne, simple beef stroganoff and beer Chilli. It was a relief to think that he might not have been living out the rest of his days, slurping lukewarm food from a plastic microwavable container and I prided myself in being of use to someone once more. Little ego boosts like this were a godsend when I spent most of every day feeling fat, unattractive and gassy. Sometimes all at once, which made me more than a little self-conscious about being seen (or smelt) in public.

Xavier had been ready and willing to come to my aid on a number of occasions; when the silly, helpless woman came out in me and I just went ballistic dithering about and flapping a tea towel whilst bawling at the same time. Pregnancy hormones will have that effect on you, you know. Though I must admit that I still have the same ridiculous reaction to seeing a spider.

I remember one time, when all the power went off in the street, Xavier immediately came over and checked on me before lending a bunch of candles so that I wouldn’t be staggering about in the dark. When my house had been broken into and Mitchell had taken off into the woods in fright, Xavier had helped me search and then continued to search after I had collapsed out of pure exhaustion and stress induced illness. He eventually found Mitchell, huddling terrified and bruised under a bush just down from the stream nearby. I would never, ever be able to thank him enough for bringing my beloved dog back to me, not in a million years. He was my baby long before Shaun came into this world and even though he disappeared from our yard again a year later, I still held out hope that I would find him again. Some nights, I even saw Xavier’s torch beam stabbing through the trees beyond our house and his voice calling out Mitchell’s name.

I should have realized long before then what was going on. It was a bad combination; two intensely vulnerable people, drawn together from a mutual need to alleviate our emotional aches and pains. I was pregnant, lonely, scared and a little resentful. Terrified for Nate and angry that he had been called away (still injured, mind you) when here I was, waddling around, fat with his child and needing his support. It wasn’t fair of me to think, or feel such things but there you go.

And Xavier; missing his wife and trying desperately to grow accustomed to being alone in a house that must have suddenly felt far too big for him. Throwing himself headfirst into his work to find some satisfaction in his lot but brought down ever further by the emptiness of his home and bed and the coldness beneath the space of his arm and chin. The pale band of skin around his finger that never quite faded in to the rest.

The night that I had gone to his house, was purely impulsive on my part. Nate and I had had a terrible fight and I was drowning beneath my feelings of inadequacy as a mother. (Not to mention about one and a half bottles of Sauvignon Blanc). I was scared shitless of the fact that I was failing, panicking as I felt the walls of my world cinch in tight about me and crumble from the cornices down. All I wanted was to get away and so I flew from Nate with anger and mind to harm him for the pain that he was making me feel. I hated myself for letting this happen and I would never forgive myself for it; not for the act that followed, nor for the thoughts preceding it. This was not like me to want to hurt someone for how _I_ was feeling inside. I have no excuse. I’m weak…

I used Xavier. Because I knew that his interest in me was not purely platonic. No man hangs around that much and dithers and blushes the way that he does without feeling something more. I used his vulnerability as much as he preyed upon my own, I think. When he opened his door to me that night and saw me drenched out in the rain, I think he might have said something. Certainly he tried to wrap something about me but I caught him beneath the arms first, barrelled him backwards into the house and kissed him so fiercely that it damn near split our lips apart. He had responded with the same hunger; uncaring of the ring still sparking light from my finger and simply kicked the door shut on the world and the realities beyond.

I stared down at the form; the letters blurring before my eyes as they started to well. I resented myself all the more for thinking that I had any right to cry when I had done such a selfish and terrible thing. I had been cruel to two good men and I had no better excuse for it other than the fact that I was a pathetic, indulgent woman.

“I know…” I murmured, replying to Xavier’s earlier statement about my culpability in the matter. “That was despicable what I did to you, honey. I should never have used you like that and I’m so, _so_ sorry.” I looked up at him, my bad mood dissipating with the knowledge that none of this would ever have come to pass if only I had been strong enough to pull myself together that rainy June night. He wasn’t to blame for this situation. At least; no more than I was. And it was worse for him because his heart was far more invested than mine was. “But… this can’t go on any longer. It was a _kiss_ , Xavier. Just a kiss.”

He straightened up now, looking utterly betrayed by how I chose to characterize our ‘interaction’ that night. “It was a damn sight more than ‘just a kiss’, Evelyn. A kiss that lasted… oh, I don’t know,” He made a point out of checking his watch and then tapping the glass surface. “At least ten minutes, perhaps.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong about that. He hadn’t wasted any time in steering me towards the bedroom, all but yanking the curtains shut with one hand before tipping us both over onto the bed in an ungainly pile. We had necked and kissed there in the darkness; my hands curling into the rivulets of the bed sheets, my mind an angry, buzzing cloud possessed of barely any feeling at all but belligerence. It served Nate right, I had thought at one stage. The precise moment when Xavier had started plucking away the buttons on my blouse, placing his lips to each new patch of skin as it met the cold air of the night. Small droplets from the rain had been running down my flesh and he licked and lapped these away with his tongue, sending a warm, tingling ache to between my legs.

It was the curtains being shut, of all things that snapped me back to my senses. The realization that Xavier had bothered to shut them so as to prevent Nate from inadvertently catching sight of us from the street. And the very idea that he _could…_ that _I_ could break the heart of this wonderful man; my husband, the father of my _child_ … a man who had suffered so much in the war and who had suffered so much from his service _to_ the war. Whose skin and mind still bore the markings from his sacrifices…

“Irrespective of just what kind of kiss it was, Xavier,” I said, scratching out as much information on the form as I could manage with a trembling, sweaty hand. “It was by the very definition of the word, a mistake. I should have never come over to your place. And you shouldn’t…” I sighed as I passed him back the form, giving him what I hoped was a gentle, still caring look as I reached up to squeeze his wrist. “You shouldn’t waste any more time thinking there might be… something between us. It… it wasn’t even a moment, honey.”

Xavier took the form, looked it over with an uncharacteristically uncaring eye and then pursed his lips; the classic sign of a man suppressing his temper. He took a moment to roll the form into a tube shape and then unfold and re-roll it again. He seemed to be mulling my words over and quickly came to the conclusion that he didn’t care much for them. He pointed the freshly revolved form at me; like a politician shooting blatant condemnations to an opposing party member across the floor.

“Does he know how miserable you were while he was away at war?” He challenged me, turning to march in a half semi-circle, swatting at the top of his thigh with the compressed paperwork as though smacking away a fly that he had seen there. God I could only hope that Nate wasn’t watching out the window, or he’d be wondering just what in the blue hell was going on.

“He knows I struggled.” I said, which was a gross understatement of just how depressed I was, it’s true. “He’s seen me at my worst since then too, Xavier.”

“Oh?” He said, turning now and staring unconvinced. He approached me, tilting his head as his eyes met my own; forcing me to acknowledge all those things that I had short-sightedly shared with him during those long months Nate had been fighting for his life in a far off distant land. God, what blithering weakness of spirit had possessed me to be so idiotically _honest_ with this man? “Because I seem to recall you saying a _lot_ of things. Like how you didn’t feel ready to have a baby, but he bullied you into it. How his depression and trauma were killing you. That you weren’t sure if you still really loved him or whether you felt only obligated to stay together.”

“Okay, you need to stop that. Right now.” I demanded, frowning at him and not the least appreciating where he was going. “Yes. Yes I said those things. But I said them because I trusted that you of all people wouldn’t hold me to account for them. I was so messed up and wild inside, there were nights I just… needed to be a bitch. And maybe yes, there were times that I resented Nate and maybe even hated him but I’m his wife and you don’t just-” I yanked up the clipboard and shoved it towards him, perhaps a little spitefully. But he had made me good and mad and it wasn’t often people were able to drive me to this point anymore and I wanted him to know it. “- give up on a marriage because it gets tough. You stick at it, until you damn well can’t salvage even a scrap from it. You should know this.”

“Do you love him?”

I could have run a knife through him for even daring to go there and I’m sure the sharp edge of my gaze was enough to pierce him deep as it were. “Of course I love him.”

Xavier shook his head at me, his eyes slanting downward into a look that could only have been described as pure desperation. “He doesn’t _deserve_ you, Eve.”

“I can’t imagine it’s any business of yours what I may or may not deserve, Xavier.” I said firmly, going to stand up from where I was perched on the towbar but Xavier had other intentions. I gave a small gasp of alarm as he stepped in close, boxing me in between the table and the back of the van; his hands grasping the edge of the roof so that even his slender frame seemed to tower over me. His usually bright and dancing eyes looked tinged with anxiety.

“Then perhaps you should have thought twice about kissing me and making me a part of your business in the first place!” He hissed, reaching around my body to throw the clipboard into the back of the van. This was such an untidy move for him and I think it truly represented that he just wasn’t interested in palavering to pretences any more. His face came down so close to mine now, I wondered whether he might in fact try to kiss me again. For the love of God, he couldn’t think that this was something he could get away with. Not with Nate just inside the house nearby and my knee in such close proximity to his groin. “He…” He paused and then continued in a slow, explaining to simpletons’ tone of voice. “He doesn’t… have any idea what he _has_ in you. To make you feel that way… to drive you out into the _rain._ ” His eyes darted back and forth across my face. “You’re… _perfect,_ you know?”

My first natural impulse was to snort and there was nothing that was keeping me from indulging in that. Jesus, what a goddamned line if ever I had heard one. “Xavier, that is dumber than a bucket of hair. _You_ my dear man, need to get out of the neighborhood more often.” I reached out and gently put my fingertips to the wall of his chest, lowering my voice and meeting his eyes with as much compassion as I could muster. “Honey, you’re in a bad place at the moment and you’re reaching for anything that you can grab a hold of to make yourself feel better. But that thing… it can’t be me, okay? And it shouldn’t be me. I’m married and I’m… definitely not worth _any_ man pinning his hopes on.”

“I could take care of you, you know?” He said, in a vague, dreamy voice that made me wonder if he had in fact heard anything that I had just said. Instead, he was converting to familiar ground in selling me another sales pitch. “You and your boy… Vault Tec has a lot of excellent benefits, you know? I could make it so you never wanted for anything. I could be a good father. Get him into the best schools. And you’d still have a place in the Vault if you needed it, regardless of whether you stayed with _him_ or not. You won’t have to worry about money, not ever.”

“Well of course I wouldn’t.” I said, a little annoyed by his attitude as I climbed to my feet and pushed him back and away from me so that I could stand again. “I’m a criminal bloody prosecutor, in case it suits you to forget, buddy boy. I’m the _breadwinner_ in this house. This house that I _own_ mind you. Sitting right beside the car that I too _own._ Nate owns the goddamned BBQ and the… I don’t know, the Holotape player! He came out of his previous marriage with hardly anything, whilst _I_ on the other hand worked my ass off to be financially viable; something that I’m incredibly proud of. I don’t ever intend to be a kept fucking woman. I love my job and I love going off to work. Sitting around in a house having things draped on me, isn’t exactly my style.” I crossed my arms, giving him a very pointed look. “I’m not with Nate for money. I don’t need a man for money or to be _taken care of._ We were having some troubles in our marriage, sure but we have worked it out and we’re happy. Happier together than we’ve been in a good long time.” I stepped forward now and gently took his hands; one of which was still clutched so tightly about the rolled information form that his knuckles were starting to turn white. “And I’m sorry that I dragged you into the middle of all our shit. You have been the most wonderful friend to me, Xavier. And you’ve done me an even greater kindness in not telling my husband about what happened between us. Which is something that I _will_ tell him. So uh… you might wanna buy a good reinforced lock for you door in the future. Or, you know, get yourself your own room in the vault or something.”

He shuffled his feet a little, chancing the smallest smile that I was very surprised to see at all. “Ah well… it might give me a chance to get some use out of that panic room, I suppose.” He chuckled bitterly to himself as he unfurled the form from his hand and glanced it over again, his eyes straying briefly towards the doorway of our house. Suddenly, he snapped back into his straight and strident work mode; flapping the back of his hand to the paperwork as he walked backwards and away from me.

“Wonderful! Well, that’s… everything! Just gonna walk this over to the Vault. Congratulations on being prepared for the future!”

I pondered at his sudden turnabout but then I realized that Nate had at some point appeared on the doorstep and was staring out at us; perhaps wondering what had taken me so long. Good god, I could only hope he hadn’t seen Xavier all but hovering over me like a promiscuous bat. I tried to offset any concerns he had by offering up a disinterested wave at the Vault Tec worker’s hastily swivelling back.

“Um… thanks again.” I called, flashing Nate a confused little look to suggest that I was just as baffled as he was. Nate smiled, the effort always looking a little strained on account of the burn scars to his cheeks and took his weight off of the door.

“Hey, it’s peace of mind. That’s worth a little paperwork, right?”

“For you and Shaun, _no_ price is too high.” I said, smiling as I picked up my coffee cup and retracted the little table into the back of the van. I took the effort to close the panel doors for Xavier also; not that in a neighborhood like this he had much to concern himself with.

Nate chuckled as I made my way back up to the front door stoop, sliding his hand around my waist and pressing a kiss to my mouth. “Good answer.”

“I have my moments.” I said, smiling into the brown of his eyes, flicking my fingers fussily through the cowlick of his black, rapidly graying hair. He was such a dear wonderful man… how could I have ever thought to have hurt him with my selfish behavior?

I knew that one day I would have to tell him of my indiscretion with Xavier and he would be hurt as hell and furious, no doubt. Confused, for sure. Before his accident, Nate was a handsome guy. Not striking but wholesome and kind of rugged; big broad chest like a bear, large shoulders and thick… well, just about everything really. Built like a rugby player. He was still handsome as far as I was concerned but it was true that the explosion had done so much damage to him and not just physically, mind you. His self-esteem was shot to shit; with thick burns covering most of his chest and face. I knew he would think that I had gone running to Xavier because I was disgusted by the nature of his injuries but this just wasn’t true. It was the other issues we had been dealing with; the trials of being a parent and my depression with finding I had no natural aptitude for it. I just… didn’t know how I was going to get Nate to see it this way.

I closed the door behind us and Nate petted my backside as he made his way around into the living area to perch on the couch and check the morning news. I in turn marched my way over to the credenza; remembering that there was a pack of cigarettes there. Nate must have found one of my old cartons and been planning on throwing it out or something. I’m certain he wouldn’t have minded if I fancied myself a quick puff; not after having dealt with that ‘persistent salesman’ and all. And I was feeling anxious as shit after my encounter and needing something to steady my nerves. Something… appropriate for that time of the morning. A stiff drink might have been going that bit too far for 9:31am. I’d be breaking a good year and a bit long drought but… what the hell. Just the one.

I scuffed up the pack and flipped the lid open, finding five little coffin nails slipped daintily inside the silver foil lining. I plucked one out and popped it between my lips, opening the credenza to search inside for a lighter. I planned on going out into the carport to smoke it; wanting to keep the house smelling as nice as possible, given that it was still fairly new.

“Hon… come on, we’ve talked about this…”

I stared out into the mid distance, bobbing the unlit cigarette between my lips and kneading the edge of the credenza drawer between increasingly rigid fingers. I could feel my temper hiking at Nate’s voice.

“Nate…” I sighed as I turned to him, plucking the cigarette out from between my lips and showing it to him. “Baby, _please_ don’t start nagging at me again. It’s just this one. I’m not going on a murder spree, or shooting Med-X into my arm.”

His brows twisted at me worriedly. “But do you really think you need it? We’re having such a nice morning… did that sales guy _really_ stress you out that much that you need to run back to the smokes? I mean, you’ve been off of them for over a year now…”

I groaned, tilting my head to the side. God, he irritated the shit out of me when he got all pious like this. “I don’t… feel like I _need_ it.” I emphasized, using my hands to cut through the air to try to define my words in further clarity. “I just… would _like_ to have _one._ Just _one._ ”

He gave me that look that really, well and truly bothered me. That one that said that he knew me better than I knew myself. “But you know what you’re like, hon. One is all it takes and then you’re back on ‘em again. You’ve got an addictive personality, you can’t just have a little here and there without it completely taking over-”

“Nope, nope. I’m not going to listen to this, I just won’t have it.” I said, placing the cigarette back neatly into the box and then dropping it into the drawer, shutting it smartly with my hand. “There. You happy?”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Nate snapped, his expression going from soft genuine concern, to impatience in one swift second.

“What?” I said as I innocently swanned over and perched myself beside him on the couch. Just far away enough so that he knew that I was well and truly annoyed with him. “I’m just doing like you told me, darling. Isn’t that what a good wife’s supposed to do?”

He took a long, labored sigh. Clearly trying for patience. “I’m… not trying to tell you what to do. I’m just… expressing concern for you, that’s all.”

“One smoke isn’t going to fucking kill me.” I pointed at him. “ _You_ on the other hand, are dancing a very thin line between keeping your head in the shape that it’s currently in, or getting a frypan square to the temple.”

His lips flickered into the slightest smile. “Hey, you might recall that I know how to take down an armed assailant.”

“I wasn’t trying too hard to fight you off that time. There was a lot of good champagne at that party.” I gave him a little look now, remembering that night a few weeks back and feeling a smile creep onto my own lips, quite naturally. “And I might just have wanted you to put me on the ground after throwing back a couple of them, mister.”

“So says the woman who made me chase her around the kitchen table about five times before she tripped over the stool.”

“Good thing I handicapped myself or you would have never had a chance in hell, buddy.”

We both laughed and Nate leaned over to cup my cheek and place a kiss to my lips; dragging it out just that little longer to ensure me that he was remembering that night in some detail too. Things had gotten a lot better lately, in spite of our little tiffs here and there. And even with a post-baby body and a highly dependent infant nearby, I was still relieved to find that good sex wasn’t only possible but still enjoyable. Something that I had started to doubt, given the condition of my poor vagina following the birth. Even after having the stitches removed some months ago, I still felt a residual ache and tight, itching pull at times. Joy of joys.

Codsworth must have felt that it was safe to return to the kitchen, because he floated up behind the sofa now, having ducked into Shaun’s bedroom whilst I’d been outside.

“Shaun has been changed,” He reported in that highly clipped and beautifully tailored voice of his. “But he absolutely refuses to calm down. I think he needs some of that ‘maternal affection’ you seem so good at.”

 _‘Maternal affection I seem so_ good _at’?_ Jesus Christ, just what manner of malfunction was Codsworth experiencing that made him tell such a blatant fib as _that_? Nate must have been coaching him in his spare time to try and boast my self-esteem.

I shot a little look at my husband, curling my lip and wondering if he might just have taken mercy on me and tended to Shaun in my stead. But he just smiled, conciliatory as he raised my hand to kiss my knuckles.

“Go ahead, honey.” He said with a chuckle and a little wink. “I’ll be there in a second to help, okay?”

Shit, they were both in on it. Having no other reasonable out, I sighed and pulled myself off of the couch, making my way down the hall and into Shaun’s room. It was a relief however, to walk in for once and not to experience that intense rush of fear and helplessness which had once completely consumed me. His little coos and clucks now made me smile and sent a warm feeling through my chest. I was still scared as hell that I would fuck up and hurt him somehow but everything just seemed to be getting that much easier and more natural day by day.

As I stepped into the room, I noticed that Shaun’s teddy bear was lying on the ground. I picked it up and gave it a little brush off; smiling at the gorgeous little stub nosed face. “Aww… how’d you get on the ground, Mr Bear?” I asked. The bear of course had no answer and complacently allowed me to set him back up on the baby change table. I chuckled as I gave its head a little ruffle before turning my attention to my son.

Codsworth had swaddled him up again perfectly in the crib, almost exactly the way that I myself had done that morning when setting him down after his feed. I had breastfed for a change because it was helpful I found for the bonding process; both his and my own but more often than not he was on the bottle these days. Couple more weeks and I’d be done putting him on the boob for good, which was a welcome relief. My nipples were sore and itched most of the time and I’d nearly stopped producing milk altogether, thank goodness. I was sick to death of having stupid lactating accidents. Felt like I was washing my tops every other day. All Shaun would have to do was cry and then suddenly – _blargh._ Who could have ever thought I would have such a natural maternal response?

I smiled down at my little man; thinking I might have been biased but finding him just the cutest thing. Other people’s babies didn’t interest me very much at all and I certainly wasn’t predisposed to finding them cute simply _because_ they were babies. But Shaun was my own. And he was just so… freakin’ goddamned adorable. His skin was the color of cinnamon; a perfect approximation between mine and Nate’s naturally dark complexions. And he still had that lovely brand new baby smell. His little head was soft and his short, downy hair was surprisingly light; like my own. Probably destined to grow darker as he got older but hey, that’s where hair dye had saved me. If of course he liked being blonde like I did.

Shaun gurgled up at me, waving his fat little fists up and down responsively. He’d stopped crying when he saw me, so I guess this was a good sign that I was doing something right. Unless of course he just recognized me as the Giver of the Boob and expected to be fed. Though to be fair, that pretty much prepared him in advance for adolescence; the unexplained feeling of calm that came when in the presence of a large set of knockers.

I reached in and gave his chest and stomach a little tickle. A smile formed on his face, though I wasn’t certain if this was him genuinely enjoying what I was doing, or if he just had gas. He was so young, I didn’t want to start imagining things where things just didn’t exist. My self-esteem didn’t require reinforcement from the imagined reciprocations of my child.

“Hey there, smelly-butt. How you doing?” I cooed, allowing him to catch one of my fingers in his fist. He immediately pulled it up to his mouth and started sucking on the tip. Yep, should have called it. “Uh-uh, you’re not having any more today, young man. You’ve already sucked me dry. My nipples haven’t tingled so hard since your Daddy and I were on our Honeymoon.”

I heard an embarrassed little snort from the hallway and glanced up to see Nate leaning in the doorway.

“Jesus hon, you’re gonna embarrass _me_ with that sorta talk; not to mention potentially drive our child into therapy later in life.” He peered over into the crib and his smile widened at the sight of Shaun sucking on my finger and wriggling cheerfully in the swaddle of blankets surrounding him. “Heh… my boy isn’t giving his mother any trouble, is he? Hey,” He gestured to the space themed mobile suspended above Shaun’s head. “I just fixed that mobile on his crib the other day. Why don’t you give it a spin?”

Geez, it’s like he felt that I _needed_ a tutorial to guide me through motherhood. None the less, I indulged him and gave the mobile a little spin; sending the Nuka themed red rocket ships slowly rotating about the central planet themed bauble. It played a jaunty little bedtime jangle that made even _me_ feel sleepy and I’d only just gotten out of bed. Shaun’s eyes stared up at it in wonder; the wriggling of his feet ceasing entirely and his mouth holding still against my finger.

Nate laughed as he wandered into the room, leaning his brawny arms on the back of the crib as he stared down at our son. There could be no better visual definition of ‘proud father’ than that moment. Nate adored being a Dad and he lived each day now with an almost unrivalled enthusiasm simply because of this darling little child we’d had together. I’d never known him to be happier in all the time we’d been together. And I swelled with relief at the knowledge that I too was finally starting to feel the same as him; to acclimatize to this change and adore the process of becoming a mom.

“That’s my boy. On his best behavior, just like his Dad. Well, most of the time anyway.” Nate chuckled, leaning in to give Shaun’s enclosed foot a little wiggle from side to side. He glanced up at me; his eyes shining with the evidence of his contented happiness and asked; “Listen, after breakfast I was thinking we could head to the park for a bit. Weather should hold up.”

I gave an ironic little chuckle as I tilted my head at him. “Oh, right. The park. With you. Because I want to get pregnant _again._ ”

It was true that Nate and I had been actively trying for Shaun but he wasn’t our first successful conception. I had gotten pregnant one year before, though there had been some complications which had resulted in, what the doctors informed me was an ‘ectopic pregnancy’; where the foetus had started forming in my fallopian tube instead of the lining of my uterus. An… ampullary pregnancy, they had told me. It was impossible to relocate the developing foetus and we were required to abort the pregnancy as it posed a risk to my own health.

I think the trauma of this had been a major trigger for my later depression and difficulties bonding with Shaun. I had been excited and looking forward to being a Mom and over the moon when I found out I was pregnant that first time. It’s not only that the pregnancy failed, but I needed to go to a specialist clinic to have the procedure performed that would abort the baby. Nate was off in service _again_ at that time and had no way of getting home; though I had informed him that I needed to undergo the surgery to save my reproductive system and my life, in fact. Didn’t matter to some of the people who were milling outside the clinic, shouting horrid things at me and waving signs as I made my way through the doors with my work colleague Helen clutching my hand the whole while. One woman spat on me and called me a monster. I felt like a monster. To this very day I’m not sure if I’ll ever entirely recover from that dreadful time in my life. I had baby clothes that I had picked up specifically for this unborn child; things that I never passed onto Shaun. Not because I didn’t love him but because I couldn’t pretend that he was my second chance to bring back that first baby that my body had failed to protect. I went to sleep quite a few nights with my face buried in those little fuzzy jumpsuits and soft jangly toys; trying to ignore the trickling bleed from between my legs and the aching throb from a place within which was quite normally beyond my depth of perception.

The abortion of our first pregnancy upset the efforts for a long time following. Nate and I had barely been intimate following this, simply because I was terrified of becoming pregnant again, given what had happened the first time around. I felt as though I couldn’t place any further trust in my body to do the right thing. What if the egg didn’t travel again and got lodged in the wrong place? I couldn’t bear going through another termination; not after what the first one had done to me. It had wracked my soul and whilst I was aware that I had no choice in the matter; it didn’t prevent the guilt from eating me up inside. I preserved that fear for months afterward; to the point that Nate wallowed in resentment of his own, feeling that it was him I was rejecting, rather than the intimacy that might potentially blossom to further tragedy.

And then one night we had been visiting at a neighbor’s house and had far too many drinks. It was an easy walk home but Nate and I decided that we would first indulge our own immaturity a little and staggered off into the night to enjoy the newly erected and entirely child centric park nearby. Nate had nearly fallen over with laughter as I had tried, without success, to squeeze my big fat butt into the toddler swing set. We played on the seesaw; which required Nate to simply launch himself up and down so that I wouldn’t remain suspended in the air the whole time. We tried to outdo each other with chin ups on the monkey bars; he won simply because I was too drunk to focus on putting any effort into my muscles. He spun me around and around and around on the tilt-a-whirl until I went careening off and landed in a spectacular heap on the pine bark. And as he tried to pull me up, the both of us laughing and giggling like a couple of teenagers on a first date, he ended up accidentally (I choose to believe) ripping open the front of my dress. One thing led to another and… nine months later, badda-bing-badda-boom, Shaunie-boy. Not to mention my overwhelming desire to scrub down every child I see playing on the tilt-a-whirl now with Grade A disinfectant. Doing it on that horrible uncomfortable thing had been so far, the dirtiest little act of my otherwise well behaved life. Won me some points whenever I played ‘Never have I ever’ though.

The little twinkle in Nate’s eye said quite clearly that he remembered this night just well as I did, and might have perhaps had a mind to tease me more about it but Codsworth’s distressed voice suddenly broke through the otherwise idyllic banter of our morning.

 “Sir? Mum? You should come and see this!”

Nate arched an eyebrow, concerned. “Codsworth? What’s wrong?”

The Mister Handy didn’t reply and it was so uncharacteristic of him, that I was immediately concerned. I asked Nate to pick up Shaun and whilst he did this, quickly made my way back out into the lounge area. Codsworth was floating idly by the television, all three of his swivel eyes focused on the screen. The newscaster looked… aghast… mortified. Worse still, I… I don’t know how to describe the expression on his face. Perhaps… beyond hope, would be the more accurate term.

“Followed by… yes, followed by flashes.” He was saying, reading from the hastily torn piece of paper that had been seemingly foisted onto the table by his hand at some point during the telecast. “Blinding flashes. Sounds of explosions… We’re… we’re trying to get confirmation… But we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations…”

“Oh no…” Nate moaned, stepping up behind me with Shaun waddled protectively in his arms. I drew strength from the presence of his big, strong body, so close to mine. But it wasn’t enough. I didn’t want to believe what I knew must have been unfolding right before my eyes but… the look on the reporters face said it all. What he was seeing written down before him was something that even he was having trouble believing.

The thing that we all feared… but never truly believed could ever find us. Not here, not in the good old U.S of A….

“We do have… coming in… that’s uh, confirmed reports. I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania.” He paused then and every drop of blood left his face. I could see then a man who was realizing that at this moment, he shouldn’t have been on television reading the news to a now terrified and mostly uncomprehending audience. He should have been home, holding his family to him. The grief of his awareness flooded his face; the hopelessness like a weight, wrenching down on his features. It no longer mattered that the camera was still filming him because in moments perhaps, it would all cease to exist anyhow. “My God.”

The screen went to static and then transferred to a ‘Please Standby’ reel. I felt as though my feet had been turned to lead; my eyes nearly falling from their sockets to hit the floor. Every nerve in my body started firing all at once, my adrenal glands hummed to life and started pumping every chemical that I needed for survival into my body from all available corners.

I couldn’t believe it… _No._ New York… Pennsylvania… Gone. Wiped off the map. But by _who_? _Who_ was attacking us? Was it the Chinese? One of their other allied nations? And why weren’t we retaliating if so? How had two of our great cities been obliterated without any sort of response by our armed forces?

And what of North Dakota? Oh god, my father… my _daddy_ was still up there and he was all alone and-

We were closer to New York. A major city like that, there was going to be more than one bomb primed for her. And if they were hitting major cities in general, than it stood to reason that Boston… Boston might be next!

“Oh my God…” Nate was moaning, pulling Shaun all the tighter to him in an effort to calm either himself or the unknowing infant against the things we had just seen. We both nearly leapt from our skins as an air raid siren ripped through Sanctuary Hills; obliterating the last semblance of peace and normality this world had ever known. I had participated in some of the practice drills and knew the location of the Vault but never before had we had any reason to run with fear for our lives. But now…

I knew what my father would want. He wouldn’t want me to be standing around with my finger up my ass, screaming and sobbing in my head for him to be safe. He’d want his little girl, his son in law and grandchild to book for safety as fast as we could.

I turned to Nate, marshalling as much strength as possible. It came surprisingly easier than I thought it would. “We need to get to the Vault. _Now_!”

“I’ve got Shaun. Let’s go!”

Nate vaulted the sofa and wrenched open the door, spearing directly out towards the front lawn. I turned to Codsworth; hating the thought that I would have to leave him behind but knowing that it was only likely to prevent me from getting the rest of my family safely into the vault before the bomb fell. But it didn’t mean I hated myself any less for being practical about it.

I had grown to love this robot; such that he was now a true member of my family. He had saved my life when I had been too weak and sick to care for Shaun properly. And though it wasn’t likely in his programming to judge, he had always been kind to me. And supportive. Like my father might have been in the same circumstances.

I pressed my hand to the side of Codsworth’s chassis; my eyes blurring with tears as I rested my forehead to the cold steel of his side. His components whirring beneath sent a thrumming vibration through my skull.

“Codsworth.” I stroked my hand over his side, my voice breaking into a sob. Oh god, how I hated myself for this… for not thinking more of him! “Stay safe, honey.”

I felt his steel pincer come to rest on my upper back and turn in a circle; his interpretation of a hug, I think. His voice, though digitally constructed and reproduced by his AI programming, sounded genuinely terrified and aggrieved for what was occurring. “And your family as well, mum. Oh my…”

“You _are_ my family.” I sobbed, pressing my lips to the side of his chassis; the tears running freely down my face now. I suppose you think that I’m odd to have loved this robot the way that I did but it would be impossible to explain unless you too had been through the same situation as myself. He had done everything for me when I had been unable to. Allowed me to survive, maintain my sanity and keep my family together. I could never have returned in kind what he had done for me, not ever. And I would always remain eternally grateful. “Thankyou. I’m so… I’m so sorry!”

Codsworth’s pincer pressed harder to my back and I heard a slight whirring sound as his foremost eye distension came to rest to the side of my head. As though he too was holding me in turn. “Goodbye, mum. May I say what an honor it’s been to serve you and your family.”

“Codsworth…”

“Now don’t you worry about me, mum. You have your family to think about. Go on.” And then, I felt the tight pinch of his clawed appendage hook into the back of my blouse and he pushed and steered me around the sofa and charged me out through the front door, with such urgency that I stumbled over my feet and fell onto my hands and knees in the pathway. I sobbed uselessly as my beloved robot pulled the door shut quickly behind him, screaming out once more; “Just _go,_ mum!!”

I heard the lock snick into place; effectively barring me from entering my home again for whatever infantile reason I might have found. Once again, Codsworth had done me another insurmountable kindness by preventing me from bringing myself to further harm. Nate grabbed me under the elbow, reefing me up off of the pavement and pulling me into his side.

“Come on hon, we gotta go! That thing might drop at any moment!”

“I know, I know…” I sobbed, wiping at my face and falling into step behind Nate. The whole neighborhood was in an uproar; people standing and staring from the lawns in helpless horror, some stuffing suitcases into their cars as though they might somehow outrun the bomb if they got going in time. Useless, all useless. The only thing that could save us if a bomb dropped on Boston was that vault just up the hill. And I had nearly signed my own family’s death sentence by trying to ignore the man who had the means to allow us entry. God, if I could have hated myself more for my stupid mistake…

Fortunately, Nate and I were both fit and though I was still a little pudged out from my pregnancy, we still managed to outsprint most of the other folks who were slogging their way up the hill towards the vault. Shaun was jolted awake as we hit the wooden footbridge over the stream, skirting a couples belongings that had fallen astray of the suitcase that he was, for whatever reason, attempting to repack. He let out a high pitched shriek, which matched for urgency the feeling that was rising in my own chest.

“Hold on little guy, hold on.” Nate hushed, petting Shaun beneath the backside as we raced past any rotating number of army and Vault tec personnel; arms arching and waving madly along the pathway.

I thought of Mitchell; lost in the woods somewhere and wondered strangely, desperately if he might still be nearby. I started whistling as I ran, looking all around at the surrounding trees for any evidence of white fluffy fur that might come bounding our way.

“MITCHELL!! MITCHELL, ARE YOU OUT THERE, DARLING?!!”        

“What the hell are you doing?!” Nate yelled, giving me a look that suggested I had gone quite daft. Perhaps I had. But in a moment like that, my god. All I could think about was trying to keep safe all the people and things that I loved most in this world. And my heart screamed for the idea of my beautiful fur baby somewhere out there, wandering through the woods or god forbid, tied up in some nasty neighbor’s yard and looking for his mommy to come help him.

“If Mitchell’s nearby, I’m not leaving him here, Nate! I’ve got to try!!” I turned and looked in the other direction as I powered my legs up the hill towards the Vault; the slope becoming so steep that my hamstrings started to burn. “MITCHELL!! MITCHELL PLEASE, COME TO MOMMY!! COME ON DARLING, I’M HERE!!”

“For Christs sake Eve, that dog has been dead for over a _year_!!” Nate snapped and my heart could have broken to hear him finally force this unwanted truth on me, with so little care for what had been our first and very much loved child. “And even if he wasn’t and he came pounding out of the woods right now, what the fuck good would it do? What, you think they’re going to let a _dog_ down into the Vault?”

I shot him a very toxic look. “I’d shove him down my pants if that’s what it took, Nate! He was part of the fucking family – just because we have another baby doesn’t mean that Mitchell stopped being any less important to me!”

He scowled at me, using his shoulder to give me a hard push in the rump to speed me along up the hill. “Pull yourself together and stop being so fucking ridiculous. That bomb could drop at any moment and you’re here worrying about a dog that may or may not be alive. We need to get our son inside so that he can have a chance! That’s what you need to be focusing on, hon. Here and now!”

I knew he was right, I was just… I was irrational. Scared shitless and looking for anything I could do to try and restore some semblance of order to the disarray that was quickly unfolding around us. I focused instead on my body, on what practical things I needed to do to make certain that we could survive this. I tried to imagine the guided missile sailing down through the air towards us; undaunted in its trajectory towards Boston. Any minute now and everything could be obliterated; the whole world as far as the eye could see and further still. My body might have been recovering from the pregnancy but it still remembered that it used to be fit and all the muscles were doing what they needed to do. We quickly outstripped a number of other slower, less focused people; some of whom look so confused I don’t think they quite knew what they were doing. I tried to help where I could; grabbing some folks as we passed them and pulling them up, away from their spilled handbags and suitcases and pushing them into running alongside us. Nate and I both called out to others; reminded them to keep their pace up, to follow us up the hill. It shouldn’t have been necessary, as there were a number of soldiers and Vault Tec personnel along the way; calling out various instructions with all the impassioned precision that might otherwise be employed by a Protectron unit.

“Keep it orderly. Vault participants, this way!”

“Check in at the gate! If you’re in the program, you’ll get in!”

A tall mesh fence was ahead of us; surrounding by dozens of sobbing, desperate looking people. I imagine that most of them weren’t with the program and had been refused entry. Jesus God… what if Xavier hadn’t gotten our paperwork to them in time? What if they needed longer to process it? No… no he said we were already registered, we should be cleared-

“That’s absurd! I AM Vault-Tec!”

Oh God, I recognized that voice. As the crowd parted, I could see Xavier himself standing at the forefront, clearly trying to muzzle his way into the gate. But the soldier barring his path and the Power Suited up member of personnel behind him were clearly not interested in hearing his reasoning. The soldier gestured firmly to the clipboard that he was holding; the expression on his face grim and uncompromising. To my absolute surprise and relief, I saw a piece of paper amongst the pile that was so distinctly curled it appeared to almost be disappearing inside of itself like a turtle.

Xavier had passed on our information in time.

“Not on the list. You don’t get in!” I could hear the solider saying and I could have wept once more for the terrible cruelty of this whole, horrendous affair. What did it matter, trying to enforce all these rules and regulations? Didn’t this guy realized that he too was likely to be dead in a matter of minutes? We should have _all_ been jumping on board the elevator and going down; didn’t these people value their lives at all?

Xavier slammed his hands to his hips, his voice and posture far more assertive than I had ever seen him before. Well, I suppose when you feel that your life is at risk of ending, who gives a shit about putting on airs and graces anymore?

“I’m going in. You can’t stop me!”

And this was where he was very wrong. A fact reinforced to the soundtrack of a gattling gun spinning and whirring to life from just behind the fence line. The solider in the power armour was entirely set on providing some measure of crowd control and it occurred to me then that these guys meant serious business; so much so that they weren’t even putting their own lives into consideration. They were enacting their duty, down to the fine print and nothing was going to impede upon that. Let alone uppity sales representatives.

Xavier must have understood this the same moment I did, because he threw both hands in the air in surrender, screaming out; “Whooooahh, okay! But… you mark my words… I’ll be reporting this!”

To whom he thought he would be reporting this, I’m not certain but I guess he said it just to make himself feel better. For what good that might be. And regardless of what had gone on between us, I just couldn’t rest easy with what was happening… the depths that these people were prepared to sink, simply as a means of retentively addressing their duty. I understood very well that these measures were in place to protect those of us who had access to the vault but still… it was all so wrong! If Xavier took off back down the hill, I was certain he would die. And I just… I couldn’t bear the thought of that. Not him, not _any_ of them!

I grabbed Xavier by the sleeve as he went to run past, back down the hill towards the town. I saw the look of sheer terror on his face; the desperation in his eyes as he met my own.

“WAIT! _WAIT!!_ ” I shrieked, grabbing his arms and pulling him back towards me. “No… no it’s not right. I’ll tell them that you’re a family member… a cousin or something.”

He shook his head, clearly defeated. “Don’t waste your breath, Eve. They’re not going to listen. If they’re not prepared to let any of these kids in, why do you suppose they’d let _me_ in?”

As though the situation weren’t terrible enough, the reality grew harsher still as I stared around at the gathered mass of our neighbors. So many crying and hugging one another; wailing and shaking at the fence. And… children. Around five or six children. My heart dropped further into my stomach and my sobs choked in my throat.

“They’ve got to… they’ve got to…” I turned further still, thrusting my fist down, screaming my fear and devastation to the uncaring faces of the soldiers standing in the gate. “You can’t just let all of these people die out here! There are _children_ here, for the love of God!! YOU NEED TO LET THEM IN!!”

“Evie for gods’ sakes, we need to _go._ ” Nate hissed, reaching over to grab my arm. He knew full well the restrictions and regulations of the army; having been enlisted since the age of nineteen himself. He knew that arguing the rub wasn’t going to save anyone; let alone ourselves if I persisted with my rant.

I turned once more to Xavier, despairing for what might happen to him. He stared back at me, across what seemed like the void of eternity and reached out to grab my wrist.

“You have to go.” He said, echoing Nate’s words. The press of his lips made him a look a little… resentful somehow. But I fancied I could see the flicker of concern and care in his eyes; the feelings that he still must have preserved for me in spite of everything. “You’re on the list… you… you need to get in there. You and your family.”

I put my arms around his shoulders; held him close as the tears rolled down my cheeks. I cried for him; for the fate of this poor sad world and for all us poor souls who were a part of it. I wondered what would become of us all, what kind of future could possibly await; either above ground or below it. I could feel Xavier’s fear… his very worst fear finally made flesh. And I was the one who had been given a free pass to evade it; all on account of my husbands’ service to a country that might soon, cease to exist.

“I’m so sorry…” I whispered to him. I didn’t know what else to say. Nothing could sum up just how unfair this whole situation was; nothing could change the fact that in a few short minutes, he was most likely going to be dead.

“I have the bunker at home… I’ll… I’ll do what I can. You just…” He squeezed my back, his chin pressed to my shoulder. “You need to survive. Let me at _least_ have helped make that happen.”

He left my embrace and turned and propelled himself down the hill; moving like a yellow lighted bat out of hell. I never imagined I would ever see Xavier again. I couldn’t see how it would be possible mind and in all honesty, in light of everything that followed in the hell that was Vault 111; I barely gave him another passing thought. The world that he was a part of was gone forever and so too was the brief time that he had shared that world with me. I bestowed my memories to that bygone age and allowed it to drift away; as words inscribed upon a letter within the confines of a bottle. A thing you might never expect to see returned to your own shore, having cast it adrift so long ago.

That was until one month… no… two-hundred and ten years _and_ one month later. In the town of Goodneighbor; respite of the down and out.

Nick, Piper, Codsworth, Dogmeat and I were staying in the Hotel Rexford. We were heading for our room at the end of the hall, when a door on the left hand side opened up and a Ghoul stepped into our path.

I was still getting used to seeing them. After all, I had only just met my very first Ghoul; the mayor, John Hancock, a mere ten minutes earlier. And what an impression that had been. Never mind his tragic and frightful appearance, the guy had gone and stabbed someone to death who had been trying to extort me. But I digress from the point, as I’m so often prone to doing.

The Ghoul in the Hotel Rexford wasn’t familiar to me but there was something _very_ familiar about his yellow trench coat and fedora. Both looked far too clean and well cared for in a time such as this; as though the Ghoul himself was trapped in some sort of bizarre time warp, unable to move on from the past when clothing such as this had been deemed fashionable. This of course had been my time as well, which I imagined was the main reason I had recognized the style. It looked to me as though keeping these garments pristine and preserved was something in which he invested a great deal of time. Perhaps it served as a manner of life-support for something… a means of keeping him in touch with things long past and long dead.

One thing was for certain however; though I failed to find anything familiar in the Ghoul’s features, he sure as _hell_ recognized me. His black eyes widened until they were as big and round as water crackers. His body went so rigid I half suspected he was about to fall into a dead faint. I think he’d forgotten how to breathe, because nothing on his face so much as flickered for a good few moments or so. He just stood there, staring at me specifically; paying no mind to the others.

“What…?” He finally eased out; in a voice so thick and croaky it sounded as though he had been using broken glass and Abraxo to gargle with. “No, it can’t…”

He moved just the tiniest bit closer, eyes narrowed almost shut and leaning forward in an attempt to make up for the fact that he was clearly concerned about encroaching on my space. I wondered if this was perhaps a Ghoul thing or if this guy was just more self-conscious than most. The mayor certainly hadn’t seemed too worried about it.

The Ghoul’s eyes flashed apart again and he rocked back on his heels, his mouth falling agape in the same gesture. I think that a feather at that point might have bowled him over.

“It… it _is_ YOU! Eve Thomson from Sanctuary Hills, right?”

Now you could have knocked _me_ over with a sturdy enough wink. How in the blue hell did this random Ghoul in Goodneighbor know my name? And not just my name but where I had lived pre-war? Not to mention that he had referred to it as Sanctuary _Hills_ , as opposed to its now oft-referred abbreviated title of Sanctuary.

An image came to mind as I racked my memory for some idea as to who this individual was; a flash of yellow tearing off down the hill away from the Vault. The same yellow I had seen outside my door the morning before the bomb fell and stripped away everything I recognized of the world forever. The same yellow I had seen hanging up on the coat rack beside that door I had burst inside of that one rainy night…

I looked at this man before me… this _Ghoul_. I could see the red of his hair from beneath his hat but apart from that… I couldn’t… I couldn’t recognize _anything_. His features looked to be even more aggressive and deteriorated than the mayors had been. Noticeably… drawn and somewhat hangdog. But there was something about the chin that looked familiar… Could it really be… it didn’t seem possible…

“Xavier…?” I asked tentatively.

The Ghoul’s face tightened and then flexed; his eyes narrowing again and his mouth forming an almost perfectly straight line across the lower half of his face. He looked angry.

“That’s right. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t recognize me. Not after… this…” He stared at me; unblinking and uncertain I think, giving me a good old inspection from most angles that he could reach with his eyes. “Twenty years of loyal service and now look at me. I wasn’t on the _list_. But you… look at you!” He gestured to me with both hands, palms up; as though pleading to a universal judge to somehow make sense of all this for him. “Two hundred years and you’re still… perfect!  How? How’s that possible?!”

He sounded so bitter and angry that it made it all the more difficult for me to reconcile my tentative acceptance of his identity. Xavier could get snarky at times I knew that very well but he always managed to retain a peppy, optimistic kind of attitude. Even when he had been attempting to lure me away from my husband. But this man before me… he was broken. And resentful. When he used that word ‘perfect’, it no longer sounded like the heavy handed compliment he had bestowed upon me that month… no, those, many, _many_ years ago. It was an accusation. An acrimonious indictment of my mere presence; as though I had purposefully appeared before him as means to prove the validity of Murphy’s Law itself. If ascribed only in reference to he and he alone.

“I feel like I should be asking _you_ that question.” I said, still just as curious as to how he managed to survive. My God… it was like he was the walking, breathing embodiment of the world we had known… scoured, hateful and burned beyond recognition. “Your bunker actually worked then?”

He gave a disdainful snort. “If you can classify _this_ as having worked.” He snapped, jabbing a finger towards his own withered face. “Sure it kept me alive but it didn’t stop the Radiation from getting inside. Once enough of that gets into your system, _this_ is what happens. But you… I don’t understand how you still look the same! How did you get through these past two-hundred years untouched?”

“They didn’t tell you?” I asked, unconvinced that Vault Tec could have been withholding such information from their employees. Well, I suppose he was working mainly as a recruitment officer, so it shouldn’t have surprised me that the big company heads were keeping their little foot soldiers in the dark.

“Tell me what? What is it?”

Ah, of course. Figures that a mere data recruitment clerk wouldn’t have been the least bit privy to such information. A monogramed pen was about the most this poor fellow could expect from twenty years loyal service.

I wasn’t certain how much he was going to appreciate the answer to his query either but given what he had so obviously gone through, he deserved the truth from me. Even if it made him all the more cross for hearing it.

“The Vault had these… pods that froze us in place. I only thawed out recently.”

Xavier’s eyes widened once more, the corresponding muscles pulling tight against lines that suddenly flexed and grew pale as a result of the pressure. “What? Vault-Tec never told me that! Unbelievable.” His lips came together tightly again, eyes narrowing with anger towards the company that had stiffed him so royally over two centuries ago. It seemed like a terrible amount of hatred to hold onto and for this long. No wonder his features looked so ravaged; all that stress and bitterness. I’m surprised he still had his hair follicles intact, actually. “Well, _I_ had to get to the future the hard way. Living through the… filth! The… decay! And the bloodshed! Look at me! I’m a Ghoul! A _freak!_ ”

I wasn’t entirely certain whether my way had been much easier to be honest. Faster maybe but I had lost both my son and my husband as a trade-off. I couldn’t imagine however what it must have been like to have lived through the past two and a bit centuries following the war; all the terrible things he must have seen. What humanity must have devolved to before it could begin to even tentatively rebuild and recover. There must have been so much violence… and evil. Was it any wonder he was so twisted up inside?

But still, he seemed such a blatant contrast to the other Ghouls I had met since entering Goodneighbor. The mayor, though slightly scary, was chipper, smooth and confident. Daisy was sassy and good-humored. Some of the guards that were also Ghouls were flirty, fast talking and seemingly unapologetic for their withered appearances. Not a one of _them_ seemed to be particularly down in the dumps over their condition. Which made me wonder if Xavier perhaps had simply had a rougher go of it than them, or if something else could have been contributing to his negativism.

“Are uh… any of the other Ghouls in town from before?” I asked, tilting my head curiously. Surely he had to have some manner of support network in others of his kind. And I knew for a fact that he wasn’t the only one to have lived as long as he had. “I know that Daisy-”

He cut straight across me, looking pissed off and impatient. “Oh, yes. _‘Nothing bothers me Daisy’._ I can take my pick from her and Crazy Kent but that’s about it. The only other guy close to the three of us in age is that axe swinging psychopath Meyer. I’d get better conversation from a Deathclaw and a more civil reception to boot. But no one from the neighborhood survived.” He dropped his head a little; sadness stealing through his voice again. “No one from Vault Tec. I even… I even tried travelling out further into the Salem area, to try and find my ex-wife but she was… gone. I found her body in her workplace all… rotted up… just like mine was doing only she wasn’t moving around like me…”

My heart ached for him. Perhaps the other Ghouls were simply tougher individuals than he was but I can’t say I blamed him any for having lost hope. I wondered if the Mayor had any awareness as to how Xavier must have been feeling. He gave off the impression that he cared for his constituents. Well, the ones that he wasn’t busy stabbing, at least.

“You know, the mayor seems um… nice. Have you ever spoken to him about how you feel?” I asked, speaking tentatively now for fear that anything I might say could trigger off another negative response. Sure enough…

“Oh don’t make me laugh! That idiot’s too young to understand anything! And he’s about as sensitive as fucking sandpaper!” He changed his voice now, emulating a smarmy, condescending tone that I think was supposed to sound like the Mayor. “ _No one ever got laid acting like a dreary fucking Gus all the time, brother. Stop bringin’ everybody down and cheer up a bit. Have a drink and chill. Do some chems, ignore reality – blah blah blah.”_ Xavier scrunched up the apex of his nose in disgust. “That _boy_ doesn’t have a fucking _clue_ what the world was like before the war – no idea what we’ve lost! I’m sick to death of hearing that stupid pip-pip “keep your chin up” shit. You spend two centuries listening to _that_ and you’d probably be at the end of your tether too.”

Most of the anger had leached from his voice now and he just looked exhausted and desolate again. I wondered how he had kept going so long, if he had been this miserable every day for the past two centuries. There must have been _something_ keeping him alive… some hope he preserved for things to get better. I wanted to try to remind him of that; because it sure as hell must have been still buried deep inside. Stagnating beneath all that grief and loss but sparking enough resonance through his limbs to keep him trudging on; even through this world that seemed to now hold so little for him.

I thought too of what I had done to him and how unfair it all was. Using him the way that I had. That he had been forced to watch as me and my family had swanned on into the Vault without any trouble whatsoever; after he, a loyal employee for twenty or so years, had been excluded and left to die. And now, two-hundred and ten years later I appear once again before him; whole and complete to remind him of all those things he had lost. It wasn’t fair.

I went to him, ignoring the look of alarm in his black eyes as he tried to step away from me. “Wait… what are you…? Don’t… you don’t want to come near me, don’t…”

I brushed his protests aside and put my arms firmly around his shoulders, drawing him tight against me and bringing my chin to rest beside his neck. Despite his grief and fear concerning his appearance, he didn’t smell bad at all. He smelt like soap, in fact. And the touch of his skin was a little dryer and more ragged than a… Smoothskin person’s might have been but it didn’t bother me. I had gotten used to the feeling of Nate’s burns; so irregular flesh was not repellent to me.

“I’m so sorry.” I whispered, thinking to myself how this almost accurately mirrored what had occurred those few minutes before Nate and I had taken the elevator down into Vault 111. “I didn’t know this would happen…”

Xavier didn’t reply for a moment but I could hear his breathing from beside my ear. His arms continued to hang at his sides. He didn’t try to hug me back. Surely there weren’t different… rules or expectations around Ghouls and what was permitted between them and those of us with smooth skin? I can’t imagine that this would be the case, not in a town that seemed as open and liberal as this one especially. But perhaps Xavier had his own standards he felt he needed to uphold. Or his own constraints, more likely.

I didn’t let go of him though; didn’t allow him to not feel my comfort. Whether he wanted or not, I thought that he _needed_ it. All that anger, fear and burbling resentment… how long had it been since someone had just given him a good old cuddle to help ease some of this? To show a bit of tender compassion, rather than dispense unwanted and seemingly unhelpful advice?

Xavier cleared his throat and wavered slightly on his feet. His voice hitched at first when he spoke, so I could tell that he was struggling with his emotions. “You know… you’re the only other person I met from… before. I…uh… I…” And then it all came crashing down; centuries it seemed of pain, repression and suffering. His arms crashed around me with so much force it felt like I was about to be tackled to the ground by a raging Yao Guai and then he was sobbing into my shoulder. Wailing. Heaving raw and ragged choking sounds that struggled to escape from his throat before his tumbling emotions scraped and tattered them further. It was almost animalistic and so, _so_ dreadful to bear witness to.

The others had all made their way into the room whilst I had been having my little talk with Xavier but emerged once more at the sound of his blubbering. They looked purely shocked and then, somewhat amused, to see me petting and stroking the back of this poor, sad Ghoul, who was wrapped around me so tightly he could have given a cancer cell a run for its caps. At this rate, I was going to have a permanent, cartoon like Xavier shaped imprint against my stomach and breasts.

I gave Xavier as much time as he needed to be held; stroking and patting his back and whispering ‘ _Shh, shh, sshhh’_ and _‘there, there’_ into his ear when I thought it applicable. I’d never felt such desperation in a hug before; as though pulling me against him would permit further breaths into his body. Like a scuba diver struggling to fit a loose mouthpiece back between his lips before he drowned.

At some point, he started talking again, though he didn’t move his face from my shoulder; even though he had long since lost his hat on to the floor and I was mouthing ‘ _help me’_ to the uncaring, amused faces of my travelling companions.

“Oh god…” He sobbed; one of his hands clenching the back of my flannel shirt so tightly I was worried he might accidentally pop the buttons on the front from the force. “I’ve been so alone here! No Commonwealth settlement wants a Ghoul with 200 years of Vault Tec sales experience!”

“Aww honey… that sounds very trying.” I assuaged, thinking to myself that there were probably more prudent matters with which to be concerning oneself with than furthering their employment prospects. “Is there… anywhere else you could go? You know… if you’re not happy here?”

He loosed a sigh that sounded even more exhausted than before. “Diamond City bigots don’t allow Ghoul’s inside. It’s just here or back at Sanctuary talking to… well, _nothing_ now that your crazy robot is following _you_ around.”

I ignored this little slight against Codsworth, who, let’s face it; had been acting pretty damn kooky when I’d first seen him again after getting out of the Vault. Though I did think it was a little rich for Xavier to be casting such aspersions when he himself wasn’t exactly a strident and secure model of normality these days.

“You know,” I said, turning the palm of my hand in circles on Xavier’s upper back. “There’s a bunch of good folks who are affiliated with the Minutemen living in Sanctuary now. You could head back there and maybe use some of your experience to help with setting up the shops? Arrange trade routes, that sort of thing. I’m sure they would appreciate the support. And once you get settled in, I’ll come and visit. See how you’re going with it all.”

It seemed as though I had finally lit upon the right thing to say because Xavier now at long last released me and took a step back, his black eyes shining from his tears. There was something hopeful in his gaze however; something which suggested that a new avenue of hope had been made available to someone who, for so long, had nowhere to turn.

“Really?” He asked, with a vulnerable softness to his voice which I found the slightest bit cute. Like a little boy who had been promised a treat if he went on now and did the right thing. “I had no idea that Sanctuary had settlers now…this might just… it _could_ work out I suppose. And you’ll… come to see me there?”

I smiled as I reached up to pet him on the cheek. The touch made him look a little weak; his eyes fell to half-mast and he sighed softly. I was so naïve then as to what skin to skin touch actually meant to Ghoul’s; how little it was genuinely distributed. Xavier most likely hadn’t been touched this way by anyone for… god knows how long. Especially given how reactive he had become in his bitter and self-conscious state. He didn’t exactly invite people into his arms, or bed with that sort of negative attitude.

“Of course. Just ask for Preston Garvey when you get there. Say you’re a friend of Eve’s and you’d like to help getting some of the shops up and running. I’m sure he’ll take care of you.”

Xavier plucked his hat up off of the floor, looking offside for a moment. He seemed to be considering all his options and, having found none that appealed to him more than this, turned back to me with the first genuine smile I had seen the whole time we’d been speaking.

“Well, okay. I’ll head over there right now. I’ll see you when you come to visit, okay?”

I squeezed his wrist. “Of course, darl. It may be a little while. There’s… things that need doing first. But I’ll try and make my way up there as soon as I reasonably can.”

Bringing the topic back briefly to myself seemed to remind Xavier of a few home truth’s and he turned to glance over his shoulder at the others milling in the doorway, before turning back to me with a concerned expression.

“Hey look… you said before that _you_ only thawed out recently? What about your boy and your husband?” He glanced over at the others again. “I don’t… see them with you.”

I shook my head, sucking back hard on the surge of grief that threatened to well up inside of me. It was still raw and fresh at that stage; only less than a month since his passing and I was still doing my utmost to try and avoid thinking about it in too much detail. I had to keep surging along to try and find Shaun and if I allowed the feelings to catch up to me; I knew I wouldn’t be able to move. I was already struggling enough as it was at this stage; having lost a great deal of hope after killing Kellogg and finding myself no closer to getting inside of the Institute.

“Nate um… Nate didn’t make it.” I said, trying to keep my voice as flat and expressionless as possible. Stating the events as facts rather than feelings. “Shaun, my baby… he was kidnapped by the Institute. Nate was killed trying to intervene.”

Xavier’s eyes furrowed in a little, his mouth retaining that sad familiar little drawl that I could see now was an almost permanently set feature on his face. He did however seem genuinely aggrieved. I think. I wasn’t so good at reading Ghoul facial expressions back then. Now I’m a dab hand but back then, when you don’t have any defined eyebrows to judge by and most of the skin is torn and rigid it could be a little difficult.

“Oh Eve… I am sorry.” He said and I could tell he actually meant it. It was the same response I got from most folks when I mentioned the Institute. You would think I had just told them that Shaun had been killed outright; the look of pity in their eyes. “Is there anything that I can…?”

I shook my head and gave his wrist another squeeze; biting back the tightness in my own throat that wanted to turn into a sob. It wouldn’t do to have us both bawling all over each other in the hallway. Especially not in a town that seemed to be as tough as Goodneighbor was. I’d lose all credibility before I so much as acquired any.

“No, darling. Just keep your ears to the ground as you go about your business. If you hear of anything that might help, pass it along. That’s all I would ask.”

“Well, of course.” He said and very tentatively, placed the palm of his other hand atop my own. When he saw that I didn’t flinch, he tightened his fingers briefly about mine before releasing me. “I uh… I’d better go and pack. It’s a long haul to Sanctuary. And I don’t much fancy travelling by dark.”

As he turned to walk back into his bedroom door, he paused and then turned, one withered hand resting on the jagged framework. “You know,” He said. “Despite how um… you know, angry I am with what happened… I’m relieved that out of anyone, it’s _you_ that survived. If anything could make me believe that there’s a God out there, it’s knowing that a good person like you was spared.”

He didn’t give me a chance to respond to his; simply returned to the inside of his room and shut the door firmly behind him. It left me a little dry in the mouth what he had said; because I sure as hell didn’t feel that I had been ‘spared’ in any way. Nor that I was deserving.

My beautiful home had been reduced to tatters. My car was compacted to nothing more than shreds of rust. My husband was dead and my little boy was at the mercy of some strange, heartless organisation that everyone in this ravaged world was terrified of.

For all the holes that filled my heart and soul, I would have easily traded for the pitted hallows in Xavier’s flesh. But I rather suspected that his words had little to do with me and more perhaps to do with him. My being alive still served some deeper meaning for him; some significance that I, stupid woman that I am, failed to appreciate at the time.

We human beings are very good for searching for meanings in seemingly inconsequential patterns. And in that squalor that had become his everyday lot, Xavier had aligned something from our reunion, such as it was. Some coincidence, some purpose, some sense that things might finally be looking up.

That poor man. That poor, poor man.

If I represented anything in his life, it was only as a blade with which to strike at his heart again and again and again. Nate’s leaving this world did not serve as some Universal starters’ pistol for Xavier to relight the torch that he had once carried for me.

I had consoled him and my heart went out to him, quite easily and readily. But it would never remain with him. Because even then, with my heart as heavy with grief as it was, I found my curiosity and interest piqued not by Xavier but with another man entirely. Or Ghoul, rather.

I found myself thinking about the mayor.

Just as I have found myself thinking of him ever since…

 

**_A good hop, skip and a jump from Goodneighbor – Current Day…_ **

As Piper and I hurried back to where the others were waiting, Deacon came mooching on over with his arm tucked suspiciously behind his back. I approached cautiously, remembering one occasion where he had tossed a handful of flour into my face just after I had done my makeup.

“What are you up to, Deacon?” I queried, cupping my hand around the side of my face protectively as I approached. Not that I had any makeup on at this time that required protecting, but I still didn’t much fancy having a face full of flour.

Deacon saw what I was doing and smiled cheerfully. “Aw, come on with ya, Cherub. Have some trust, would you?” A greatly ironic statement, considering that one could never tell when Deacon was being honest or not. He gave a little chuckle and lowered his head, shaking it seemingly in mirth as he added, “Just thought I might clear something up with you before we get to town, boss. Seeing as how you went and got all upset about that bottle of scotch, yeah? Well, it turns out that it wasn’t even your bag that this asshole Raider got into. It was mine all along! So your bottle is perfectly safe and sound, see?”

He took his hands out from behind his back, revealing a full and undamaged bottle of scotch; the little red ribbon tied snugly about the neck of it. For about a point of a second I was almost fooled and felt a little flush of relief swell in my chest before the obvious bullshit of the situation reared up to bite me in my silly ass.

The little red ribbon had most definitely been tied around the bottle that the Raider had been slurping from; as the sight of it had been the trigger for my earlier tantrum. Not to mention that my own bag was currently perched on my shoulders and had been with me since the girls and I had vacated the immediate area to change. Deacon may have been a sneaky little SOB at times but I doubted that even he would have been able to ninja crawl in around my feet and rustle around in my bag simply to check whether the bottle that had been tampered with was my own or not.

So, evidence suggested that he was lying, of course. No surprises there. The question was, why exactly? I suppose he must have been trying to be kind to me, because like he said I’d been so upset in losing my Christmas gift to Hancock. But he certainly wasn’t required to be kind, not when it came to something like this. That bottle was a genuine ‘one-of-a-kind’ deal; something he ought to be keeping to enjoy for himself.

“Oh, don’t be such a wally.” I gently scolded him, reaching over to drag the red ribbon off from around the neck of the bottle. It didn’t come away from the knot entirely, so I was forced to step in and use both hands to try and undo it.

“I would _never_ presume to be a Wally, Cherub.” Deacon said seriously, twisting the bottle up and out of my grip before I could loose the ribbon entirely. “Not unless I was posing as one for my next incarnation. I’m telling the god’s honest truth. This one is yours and mine was the one that was tampered with.”

“Oh, bullswool.” I countered impatiently, reaching down around my hip to tap my finger against my duffel. “Had my bag with me the whole time, Deacon, there’s no way you could have snuck the bottle out of it without me seeing. Pull the other one.”

He chuckled once again, looking slightly defeated. “Yeah, yeah, all right then. Geez, you go and try to do something nice and all you get is suspicion.” He lowered the bottle from up over his shoulder and dropped his voice in the same gesture. “Look Cherub, I was only keeping it in case something happened to yours anyway… I’m not a big spirit drinker. But I knew that _you_ were putting a lot of stock in the bottle you had, so… figured I’d be best to try and keep one of ‘em safe. Less likely to drink it than some of the others.”

This was an extremely generous thing to have done, if of course Deacon was being honest about it in the first place. Which shouldn’t suggest that he wasn’t a kind enough person to have done something so considerate; shady though he was, he operated with a great deal of integrity and demonstrated what appeared to be genuine care towards those of us in our little rag tag group. I just wasn’t sure why he had possessed the foresight to preserve this bottle specifically, in the off chance that the one I had might come to grief. Unless of course he just presumed (or observed) that I was so clumsy that the likelihood of it actually occurring was higher than I gave myself credit for.

Could be that he had a care for Hancock as well, I suppose. Despite teasing the ever loving shit out of each other, the two of them did actually get along rather well.

Regardless of his reasoning however, this seemed a far too altruistic gesture for me to accept. So I gave Deacon a little smile as I reached over and patted the sides of his wrists with my hands.

“Thankyou, darling. It’s a lovely thought but you don’t need to go doing something like that.” I tapped the side of the bottle with my fingertip. “This is _your_ bottle and it’s a pretty special one at that. You might want to hold onto it for some point in the future. You know… if we manage to blow up the Institute. Or you find yourself a pretty girl and decide you wanna get married again.”

Deacon gave a light-hearted little chuckle and rolled his shoulders disinterestedly. “Hey, if the Railroad blows up the Institute, it’s Dom Pérignon or it’s _nothing_ , pal. Anything else would just be a sacrilege. And as for getting… married again…” His smile wavered only slightly but it was enough of an indication to me that he was hurting from the idea of such a thing alone. Something I could understand all too well. “Well, if I meet a girl silly enough to take me on, I doubt she’d have the capacity to tell the difference between a good bottle of scotch and one that’s… eh… a little _less_ refined. Because, you know, she’d _have_ to be a raging idiot to wanna marry me in the first place.” He gestured towards me with the bottle again. “Besides, that’s all supposition, Cherub. What I _know_ for certain is how much you were looking forward to giving that bottle to Hancock. You had a smile in your eyes that we don’t get to see very often anymore.” His own smile broadened with a palpable and genuine warmth as he slid the bottle gently into the palms of my hands and lowered his own so that he could curl my fingers about the glass. “So I want you to have it. Just gotta promise that you and the old Ghoul will drink a round to the noble and generous John D when you crack her open, yeah?”

“Deacon…” I murmured, so touched by his gesture that I was starting to become emotional but he cut me off with a high ended wave of his hand; taking three firm steps away so that I couldn’t force the bottle back on him.

“Nope. That’s it, I’m done. No further negotiating, madam. This isn’t a democracy, you know.” He smirked as he leaned over, kicking one foot up in the air behind him as he snagged the nearly empty bottle that the Raider had upended by the open neck. “Besides… there’s more than enough in this one for me to be getting on with. You and Hancock need as much grog as you can share between you. _Nooot_ wanting to suggest like the two of you have got a problem though. …But seriously, you should really see someone about that. I’m starting to think you might be jaundiced under all that makeup.”

I chuckled at his words, though it did in turn remind me that I had lost most of my makeup when I’d been cleaning myself off earlier. Not that Hancock would have cared either way, I’m sure but… I _did_ want to look my best for when I rolled back into town. And with a practiced hand like mine, it wouldn’t take more than a few minutes to touch up, I’m sure.

Carrying Deacon’s bottle in one hand, I headed back to where the rest of the group was gathered nearby. Nick, MacCready and Meyer had since mobilized and moved the bodies of the Raider’s into a strangely neat little stack by the wall of a nearby building. Meyer was in the midst of chalking a large arrow above the pile, beside which he penned a date. MacCready must have seen how confused I looked because he called over.

“Goodneighbor’s got a new policy with how they deal with corpses around the outside of the town.” He said, his angular brows quirked up as though he was not sure whether to be impressed or sceptical. “Apparently a team does a sweep about twice a week or so? Gathers up the bodies and takes them to somewhere in town where they can be safely incinerated. The date lets the crew know how long the bodies have been there for.”

“I’m assuming it’s to reduce the smell when folks are coming into town?” Nick asked, looking genuinely interested as Meyer dashed off the last stroke of today’s date and wrapped the chalk back up into a small cloth in his left hand.

“Well there is that, of course. Tryin’ to make the town look a bit more accessible to travellers too.” Meyer muttered, taking a few steps back and tilting his head from side to as he perused the writing on the wall. Satisfied, he stuffed the chalk and cloth back into his pocket before turning to flash a smile in our direction. “Bit off putting to see the walls surrounded by rotten corpses. Not ta mention the disease and all that. One of _Capo’s_ latest little innovations.”

“So uh, Hancock’s got a few of these little… _innovations_ rolled out?” Piper asked, trying to make the query sound offhand but with a look in her eye that said she’d very much like to whip out her notepad and start penning down every word that came from Meyer’s mouth. I can’t imagine that this was lost on him either, because he gave her a coy little smile which suggested he knew what her game was.

“More’n a few, sweetheart.” He replied, reaching down to retrieve what looked to be a small, feminine basket from where it was resting beside his feet. There were a bunch of Hub flowers shoved haphazardly inside, which he took a moment to try and restore to some semblance of order. “He’s tryin’ to make the town a little more… how you say… family friendly, I guess? Implemented a lot more rules, security measures and the like.”

“In Goodneighbor?” MacCready said with a disbelieving chuckle. “How the hell did he go and pull something like _that_ off?”

“Lot of elbow grease and a few firm words here and there, _cagine._ ” Meyer stated, pushing the little basket down now into the crook of his arm before retrieving his axe from where it was leaning up against the wall. There were still a few stains on the surface of the blade but it looked much cleaner than it had earlier. “Got it in his head to cater more towards them folks who are on the down on out from bad luck and genuine disabilities. Tryin’ ta put the squeeze on the crooks and the low-lives; anyone who goes and takes advantage, like. Got us all on tighter security measures and all. Required to actually intervene and stage formal arrests. Been a hell of an overhaul, I’ll tell ya that.”

“Wow.” I said, feeling my own eyes widen in genuine but not displeased surprise. I thought back to those so many months previous when Hancock and I had talked about Goodneighbor and what its liberal approach to unrestricted access might inadvertently permit. From what Meyer was saying, he had not only taken this on board but had gone to great lengths to actually implement some serious structure. “Can’t imagine that’s made him universally popular.”

Meyer gave an unconcerned snort, narrowing his eyes and wrinkling the apex of his nasal cavity. “Had quite a few walk on outta the town when he started crackin’ down on some of their ‘liberties’. But ya know what I reckon? Fuck em. _Capo’s_ finally gone and grown up a bit; startin’ ta move on from that teenagy mindset that life shouldn’t have no boundaries.” He took a moment to light himself a cigarette, taking a good deep drag before letting curls of smoke waft almost artistically down and out from the holes in his nasal cavity. “Town’s still a good fun place; freer than anywhere else you’ll find and as supportive as all fuck. We’re still takin’ care of each other and having a good old laugh along the way. Just gotta put the hard word now on them folks that think they got a right to do whatever the fuck they want at everyone else’s expense. So yeah, security’s a bit stricter than it was before but it’s a small price to pay for folks to actually sleep safely in their beds and walk down the fucking street, ya know?”

Once again, Meyer just so readily demonstrated how far removed he was from the indisputably more childish mindset of his compatriots in Goodneighbor. He wasn’t some thuggish, immature brute but an insightful, worldly individual; who just so happened to kick ass better than most anyone I knew. He seemed so different to the other men of Goodneighbor and not simply because he was married. Though I’m sure this did have a direct impact on his values as a member of the community.

“Well, who would have thought?” Piper mused, flashing a small amused smile in my direction. “Might have to go and eat my hat after all.”

“Maybe so.” I said, equally as pleased as I perched myself down on the ground, swinging my bag around to rest between my legs. Dogmeat came mooching over when he saw me get settled and immediately curled his head into my side, rolling over onto his back so that I could scratch his belly. “And good on Hancock for having the balls to try and make things better for everyone.”

Meyer gave a little chuckle that sounded strangely ironic and smirked briefly in my direction as though I was some glib idiot missing the patently obvious. “Well… guess he did a lot of growin’ up out on the trail with all you lot. Thank God, ‘cause I’d like to be able to think we could safely have some kids bouncin’ around the town at some point.”

“You and Meaghan thinking about adopting?” I asked, opening up my duffle and rustling around inside for my little amenities satchel. Dogmeat whuffled impatiently when he saw that my attention was diverted and so I tried to rub his chest with one hand whilst continuing my search with the other.

“We’ve talked about it.” Meyer said with a thoughtful little shrug of his shoulder. “Didn’t think there was much point whilst we were livin’ in Goodneighbor. Part of the reason why Archie Commerford fucked off with his missus a coupla years back; didn’t reckon it was a safe place to be raisin’ wee _bambino’s._ But with the changes now… who knows? Be nice to maybe bounce a wee one off of the old knee.”

“I met Archie and Dom not too long ago actually.” I said, finally locating my satchel around the very middle of the duffle and giving it a firm yank towards the surface. A few of my clothing items spilled out and I was forced to restuff them all back inside.

“No kidding? How is the old trot? Got himself a coupla _piccalo’s_ yet?”

I shook my head as I zipped the duffel shut and rolled it off to the side, placing my amenities bag down between my feet. “Nah, they’re still trying to find a place to settle, I think. John and I ran into them just a little over… two, three months ago, I think? Set themselves up in an old diner. Think they were considering heading inland again.”

Meyer gave a thoughtful little nod of his head. “Such a catch twenty-two, ain’t it? Ya head out to the sticks thinkin’ you’ll be safe from all the shit ya see closer ta the city but all the isolation does is make ya more vulnerable. Poor old Arch.”

“Raider gangs are just too thick on the ground these days.” Cait mumbled, twisting her lip crossly as she thumped down to the ground beside me. “Got more set up’s round the Commonwealth than there are settlements. Two, three encampments to each town. Ain’t good odds.”

“True that.” I said, unzipping the side of my little bag and laying out the top portion flat to the ground so I could inspect the contents. “But you’re thinking that you might be able to get away with having a couple of small one’s in Goodneighbor now, Meyer? That’s sure as hell something.”

“Oh yeah. Much surer than I was before anyway. Especially now that _Capo’s_ considering putting in a little school in the East Division and all-”

MacCready, who had been taking a drink from a tin of purified water, ejected most of it out from his nose and lips violently at this point in the conversation. After coughing and hacking for a few moments, he stared up at Meyer in shock; eyes streaming. “What the fu- _heck?!_ A _school_ in _Goodneighbor_? For children?!” He looked around at all of us, waiting I think to see if we might have been in on the joke. Our expressions must surely have matched his for pure shock however. “Just what in the actual blue beyond is going _on_ in this town? Did Hancock just smoke some really funky Chark and hasn’t recovered yet?”

“Well, there you go, darling!” I said, giving him an over the top look of enthusiastic innocence as I swatted at his leg. “That sounds like a lovely idea! You can bring Duncan over to the Commonwealth and he and Shaun can go to school together in Goodneighbor.”

“Oh my god, that would be so _precious._ ” Deacon agreed, putting on a quite ‘fabulous’ sounding voice so as to match my tongue in cheek gusto. “I can just see the two of you; standing by the schools front gate, flicking hungover drifters vomit off of your shoes as you wave the little ones on into their new day of learning and fulfilment.”

“Oh yes and what learned little tykes they shall be, our humble sons! They shall learn all the tried and true ways of the Goodneighbor domicile; able to resuscitate someone who is choking on their own chunky stomach lining after they’ve imbibed fifteen shots of _Bobrov’s Best_ and eight ill-advised huffs of Jet, just like _that_!” I said, snapping my fingers cheerfully and biting back the hysterical laughter that threatened to peak at the look of absolute shock and horror dawning on MacCready’s face. “There will be no vein that shall escape their keen eyesight; nor evade the needles that they shall learn to shove into it, with all the precision of a practiced physician.”

“They’ll be smoking by the age of eleven!!” MacCready yelled in terror, seeming to forget that he himself had started smoking at a very similar age. “They’ll be outside losing their virginity before they’ve learnt how to spell the word! Uh, uh – no way in freakin’ hell, Evie! I’m surprised you’d be okay with Shaun going to school in Goodneighbor. They’d need to be ironing out a lot more kinks before I’d be prepared to take my boy on a walk through there.” He bit his lip and flashed Meyer a somewhat apologetic look. “No offense meant, of course.”

Meyer returned an admonishing frown in MacCready’s direction; not looking the least appreciative of his earlier comment. “Yes well, it might serve you to remember young man, that despite what you might think of Goodneighbor, there have been a hell of a lot of changes since last time you perched your little ass up at the Third Rail. Hancock _is_ getting up into his fifties now. Everyone has to grow up at some point. And he wants to offer up Goodneighbor as a genuine, alternative option to Diamond City; which means it’s gotta be able to compete with what’s on offer there.”

“That’s right.” I agreed, not at all missing the approving little smile that Meyer flashed my way. Despite the fact that I had made a little fun at Goodneighbor’s expense, I think he knew me well enough to understand that I was only teasing out of genuine affection for the place. “I think John now understands that his responsibilities are much more convoluted than simply treating people decently and being universally popular. He runs the second largest settlement in the Commonwealth; it has to meet a need for the folks out there who are looking for some place to call home. Otherwise you get overcrowding in places like Diamond City, which still leaves very little options for Ghoul’s out there. I mean there’s the Slog but not everyone wants to head out to the wastes and farm Tarberries for a living. Some folks want walls around them. Protection and amenities and the like. And that’s clearly what Hancock’s trying to provide for them.” I felt a soft rising tide in my chest, which pressed my lips into a smile all of its own making. “God… I’m so… I’m so proud of him.”

Meyer chuckled softly, looking to me with what I interpreted to be an expression of genuine fondness. “Well, he’ll be very glad to hear that Munch. Not as glad as he will be to actually lay eyes on ya, I’m sure. Been missin’ you mighty fierce these past few weeks.”

I felt my cheeks go hot as Cait let out a delighted bark of laughter and started poking and prodding my arm like an excited teenage girl celebrating with a friend over a crush’s reciprocated affections.

“Ha! I’m a fucking right, or am I fucking _right_?” Cait crowed, resting her arms back on the ground and tossing her hair away from her face in a smug gesture. “Told ya that the dude’s got a major hard on for you, love.”

“Does he miss _me_?” Deacon asked from somewhere over my shoulder; his tone taking on a sound of humorous pining as I in turn gave Cait a few sharp, scolding smacks to the arm. Meyer pulled a face at him in return, not seeming to appreciate the implication that his boss might have had any special feelings towards anyone with a penis.

“No.” He grunted bluntly, going to walk away and then pausing to give Deacon another dubious little look. “Only one he talks about is Munch. Sometimes I think he missed the fact that there were other folks he was supposedly travelling around with. Speaking of which, what’s up with the French dame?”

I paused in my efforts to slap Cait into modest submission to follow the line of Meyer’s head as he stared over towards Curie; who seemed to be in the midst of jotting down some notes on a clipboard that she had reefed out of somewhere. She did look rather out of place; perched neatly and elegantly atop the stone dividing wall, legs crossed at the knee and her shiny blue sequin dress shimmering about her long, lean frame.

“That would be Curie.” Nick responded, his brow wrinkling down over his eyes to form a somewhat concerned expression. I’m guessing that this was because Curie happened to be occupying the body of a very genetically blessed and beautiful looking young woman and we were about to swan into a town which had a reputation for preying on such individuals the way that a Diamond City guard preys on an unprotected noodle bowl. And Nick already put a lot of responsibility on himself to fend off the advances of every male in Goodneighbor when it came to Piper, myself and Cait. Curie, I realized, represented just another variable that he would be required to juggle. And one with a sexy French accent, no less.

Nick’s thought processes seemed to be travelling along the same vein as my own, because two seconds later he hefted a weary sort of sigh and whistled towards Curie, following along with a friendly gesture that invited her towards him. “Curie? Would you mind popping over here for a moment?”

Curie glanced up, her expression questioning and curious. A moment later, she smiled though I could see that the action had been forced into being rather than natural response. This was not in the least because Curie did not feel warmly or favourably towards Nick; simply that, as a Miss Nanny, she was still slowly becoming accustomed to living within a Synth body. Whilst a lot of feelings did appear to be occurring naturally now, there were moments where she was still required to put a bit of thought into her responses. I imagine it must have gotten tedious for her at times, trying to remain on top of things that for us, were simply taken for granted.

Curie carefully dismounted from her perch atop the wall and with her clipboard pinned to her chest, came trotting over with all the grace of a princess from the Royal Family. Which seemed fucking unfair, given that I had lived my entire life as a human being and still couldn’t walk in a straight line without either veering all over the place, or knocking shit everywhere. As my father once fondly said; ‘My darling girl, you are a goddamned moose.’

“What can I do for you, Monsieur Valentine?” Curie asked, her tone casual and yet spoken with such an unintentionally sexy purr that it sent a shiver up my spine. And I was straight, gosh darn it. The dudes would be literally _crawling_ all over her tiny butt when we walked into Goodneighbor’s gate.

Nick made an open handed gesture towards Meyer. “This will be your first time returning to Goodneighbor since your transference operation, correct? I understand you didn't stick around for any great length of time previously but made your way out very discretely. As such, I would like to take the opportunity to introduce you to Mister Meyer Scalice.”

Being of Italian descent, Meyer had a way of greeting women that was very in tune with the cultural expectations of his people; specifically the old cheek kiss. Or rather, the old cheek brush, which he did now with Curie; left to right. He didn’t actually make contact with his lips; I noticed that he extended this only to women that he knew quite well or had a positive relationship with. Like myself and even Piper and Cait. I actually liked it when he did this; it felt like receiving a kiss from a doting father or granddad and was quite charming in its funny way.

 _"Piacere di conoscerti,_ Curie." Meyer said, giving her a little pat on the side of the arm as he took his cheek away from hers.

Curie’s eyes lit up and she held her finger in the air like a scientist making a discovery. “Ah… this is Italian, no? How wonderful! _É_ _stato un piacere conoscerla!_ _Come vanno le cose?_ ”

“Whoa, whoa ease up there, my love. I ain’t a native speaker. Just a couple words here and there, eh?” Meyer protested, waving both hands in the air to ward her off from any further attempts to communicate. As we all shared a little chuckle at Curie’s thwarted enthusiasm, Nick patted his steel hand to Meyer’s shoulder whilst pointing to him with the other.

“I want you to remember this man, Curie. He is one of only two men who is to be trusted in Goodneighbor.”

Curie gave a thoughtful little nod. “Ah… and the other is of course Monsieur Hancock?”

Nick pulled a face. “What? No, hardly. The other is a very big fellow by the name of Adrian Buchalter. I think that it’s fairly safe to say that John Hancock should never be trusted when it comes to single young ladies.”

“Oh, Nick.” I scolded, giving him a little look as I unearthed my bottle of concealer and started twisting the lid off.

Nick flashed a smile in my direction, which suggested that he had meant to tease in some ways. “Oh Evelyn, you know I’m only having fun.” He tilted his head from side to side; introspective. “Not that there isn’t a grain of truth to it, mind.”

Meyer narrowed his eyes and gave a dismissive snort; waving his hand in my direction specifically. I think he was attempting to dissuade me from buying into Nick’s words. “Ah come on, with ya. Yeah, the old boy mighta chased the skirts about in the ‘old days’, but ever since _this_ one walked in the gate-” At this, he pointed to me with a little smile that made my face feel hot all over again. “ – he ain’t had eyes for no one else. Which I can tell you, has made a lot of the fellows in the Neighborhood Watch _very_ happy to be shot of the competition.”

“Meyer, don’t tease.” I grumbled, tilting the bottle of concealer gently so that a small amount was distributed to the back of my hand. Cosmetics in the Commonwealth were not as savvy as they once were; needless to say and what was produced, often required a little extra work on behalf of the person applying it. Because of my naturally darker skin, I needed to mix two different base colors together to form a shade of concealer that more closely matched my own natural tone. I did this now, plucking out a second bottle and mixing in a little of the darker color with a small brush.

Meyer gave a long, annoyed sounding sigh as he walked towards me. “Ah, Munchkin, you are _intolerable!_ ” He scolded, placing his cigarette between his teeth so that he could free his hand to lean over and clutch the side of my face. He gave me a semi-rough pat; the kind a father might bestow upon a ragtag daughter that he was attempting to pull into line. “No wonder poor _Capo_ is so high strung these days; you drive him to distraction with this… whatever it is. Hard to get act, eh? Doesn’t know if he is coming or going, Arthur or Martha!” He gave my face a gentle little shake and said now, his voice noticeably lower. “You’re not silly, young Eve. So don’t _act_ silly. Eh?”

It was a kind admonishment, if you could ever bestow such a thing and I understood it for precisely what it was. Meyer was telling me to stop playing games; to simply front up and be honest with my feelings, so that Hancock could finally have an answer. It was fair and good of Meyer to address this with me, though I was in fact entirely prepared to do such a thing when I got to town regardless of his mild reprimand. But I must confess that it always warmed my heart to bear witness to the care and love that the boys of Goodneighbor actually had for their boss. Despite the fact that he was their big tough mayor, they all wanted the best for him.

“Yeah. I got ya.” I said, giving Meyer a little smile which he returned before planting a passing kiss to the forehead and a ruffle to the top of my head that I didn’t really need. What was it _with_ these Goodneighbor blokes and hair ruffling? Too much of a boys club going on there I was starting to think.

Having offered up his two cents- _caps_ worth, Meyer strode on past me and hopped over the nearby dividing wall; hoisting his axe back up onto his shoulder and gesturing with his head. “You lot all wanna get your shit together, I’ll walk with ya back into town. How long do you reckon you’ll be?”

Nick gestured back towards the pile of bags; which Codsworth was in the midst of organizing from the looks of things. “We can head in at any point. Looks like we’re just…” He cast a glance towards me, questioning I think. “Waiting on… Evelyn to… put her face on.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m _sorry.”_ I stressed, taking out my little vanity mirror and cracking it open so that I could use the glass to apply the concealer to the problem areas of my face. “It’s just… I lost it all after I washed off the blood from the Raider you chopped, Meyer. I promise, it won’t take a minute.”

“That’s cool.” Cait said, swinging herself up onto her knees and leaning in so that she could watch what I was doing. “Hey, maybe when you’re done with yours, how bout you slap a little on my mug, eh?”

I smiled at her, my own face looking like some strange mask from the lines of the concealer I hadn’t blended and leaned over to pet her cheek. “Because _you_ , my darling don’t need makeup. You are far too beautiful already. You must give the rest of us a fighting chance.”

Piper snorted, unimpressed from nearby. “I could say the same about _you_ , Blue. You’re already crazy pretty and you still feel like you gotta layer that stuff on over top.”

I rolled my eyes, as impatient with her reasoning as I had been with everyone else’s throughout my life. “Blonde eyelashes, blonde eyebrows, uneven skin tone… If I don’t add a little bit here and there to emphasize, I look even more creepy and startled than I normally do.” I used a combination of my fingers and my brush to blend the concealer across my face; focusing particularly on the dark bags under my eyes and the ruddy line of skin beneath my brows. I had to double up a little on the areas where I was still bruised and even then, I couldn’t hide the shadow of the injuries entirely. Still an improvement from beforehand, though. “Besides, we’ve already talked about this Piper: I _love_ makeup. I clearly missed my true calling as a geisha. Or a circus clown.”

“Circus clown, more like.” MacCready cracked, smirking at me as he plonked down nearby with his own bag resting against his side. He tucked the rolled up comic book he had been reading earlier back in the opening of the duffle and then tugged the pull string tighter to close the gap. “You know the clumsy walk, the stupid laugh, the big red nose-”

“I’ll give _you_ a big red nose in a minute.” I threatened, smiling all the while as I tried to dab at him with the makeup brush. He scooted away before I could make contact. “And anyway Piper, you wear a little makeup yourself, right?”

She gave a shrug; unconcerned. “Well yeah… a bit of lip gloss and some mascara occasionally. But you… Jesus, I’ve seen artists who put less paint to a canvas than you do your face.” And she frowned at me, in a firm manner that actually reminded me of Hancock when he got annoyed with me. (Though I’m certain Piper would not have wanted to hear such a comparison). “And you _don’t_ look creepy Blue, not at all. A little… startled at times maybe, yeah.” We all had a laugh at this. “But, you know… there’s a lot to be startled about in the Commonwealth these days.”

“Imagine how startled she’s going to look the first time Hancock gets his kit off for her.” Cait chuckled, twisting her head off to the side reflexively as I made to bat her ear for that comment.

“How little _you_ know.” I shot back, enjoying the look of delighted surprise on hers and a few of the others faces as my meaning sunk in.

“Wait… you mean you’ve…?”

“Every bare inch.”

“So what? You guys are actually…?”

I shook my head. “No. We haven’t been sleeping together. Keep in mind though that we _are_ talking about John Hancock. A man who would run around naked every hour of the day if he thought he could get away with it.”

“To be fair Cherub, I think that applies to all us guys in general.” Deacon said, sharing a commiserating look with MacCready, who pursed his lips and nodded in acknowledgment. “I don’t know about _you_ but I just got used to that sort of freedom when I was a toddler. Now it’s like; your clothes are a shackle for your expression of character and freedom.”

“And your horrible wiggly bits.” I said, pulling a face at him. “I mean, Jesus, why are guys so convinced that we actually want to see them running around in the buff? Just because they can’t think of anything other than seeing one of us with no clothes on…” I shrugged and gestured towards Piper, Cait and Curie. “Well… one of _you_ young lassies, anyway. Probably not a plump old mama like me.”

“Hey, I’m not choosey.” Deacon said, which wrought a good natured laugh from everyone in the group, myself included.

“And I’d dare say that Hancock wouldn’t at all mind seeing this supposedly ‘plump old mama’ running about naked.” MacCready said, his grin broadening as I made every concerted effort to look haughty and unaffected by his comment. “Ah, you pretend like you don’t see it, but you ain’t dumb, boss. Just you wait til we get into town. He’ll be all pent up and mental after not seeing you for like… a month.”

“Oh my god, it’s going to be _so_ disgusting.” Cait sighed, tilting down so that her forehead rested to my shoulder. “I’m not even gonna get my hopes up that somethin’ sexy might happen. Knowin’ you two idiots, you’ll probably just bump chests, slap each other on the ass and then go and get yourselves drunk on enough plonk so that you can keep on ignoring all yer weird repressed sexual tension and shit.”

“I’m starting to think you guys are trying to lead me towards some manner of conclusion…” I mused sarcastically, focusing on my little hand mirror as I blended the last of my concealer across my face. I used my fingertips and my brush to balance the makeup down onto the column of my neck, before taking out my little pot of blush.

“Don’t let them try and push you towards anything you don’t feel that you are ready for, Evelyn.” Nick said, tilting his brow towards the others in a clearly reproachful manner. “Teasing aside, you have a lot on your plate right now and I’m sure that everyone appreciates your situation is delicate.”

“Doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy a good seeing to every once in a while.” Cait offered up, her voice muffled from the curve of my bicep. Her eyes raised then to just above my shoulder and I managed to catch the look that she offered towards Nick and it was, I thought, surprisingly pointed in and of itself. “Besides… if there are feelings involved… shit’s gotta be dealt with, yeah? And it’s not just Evie who’s… you know… feeling stuff.”

I could see where Cait was coming from, just as I had with Meyer earlier on. Because my situation was more delicate, perhaps my friends were, in turn, more nurturing towards me in regards to this. But that should not suggest that they were not also aware of how Hancock might have been feeling as well. And though I couldn’t pretend to know just how strongly he felt towards me, I quite obviously knew that there were _some_ manner of feelings there. And not all of them were sexual, as I had once firmly contented myself in believing.

It was in the way that he held me; the tenderness in his voice, his arms and the small kisses that he had only recently started to distribute to my cheeks and forehead. It was the way that he had stared at me in _Wanderer’s Lagoon_ those few weeks back; with eyes that met my own as I turned toward him; dreamy and admiring in the fading sun.

As an, until recently, married woman, I could more easily translate and appreciate these looks and touches because I was familiar with the language that was tender and loving. I had spent quite a few years out of touch with sexiness and physical attraction; because it was Nate and Nate alone who saw me this way. So far as I was aware… though there had been… no. No, that had been something else… a poor man and woman feeling desperate and nothing more.

Hancock reminded me of both these aspects near forgotten in my life; to feel adored and desired in the same glance. I suppose there were a few men, dotted here and there in the Commonwealth who might have looked to me with similar feelings… of physical desire, at least. Though god forbid why, when I was such a homely old thing. But men are men, you know. Hips and boobs and butt and all that. And when you’re as friendly as I am, I suppose that makes it seem like a squeeze might be within easy reach after a few drinks investment or so.

Hancock had had a similar look in his eyes once. They might have been as black as tar but they weren’t inscrutable in the least. I found his eyes in fact to be more telling than most other persons I know. Perhaps because he had such an expressive face; so many lines which appeared about his eyes to invest feeling into the otherwise void like space surrounding his irises. But I had most certainly felt warmth in his gaze. And on more than one occasion; heat.

It made sense that the others would have become aware of this on our travels together; the boys especially. We had all gotten on the turps enough times for certain things to land, uncensored and unfiltered on the table for discussion. Us girls had certainly waxed poetic about enough of the things we had done, said, thought or contemplated throughout our entire lives. I can’t imagine it would be out of the question for the fella’s to have put their heads together over similar matters. I mean, we’re talking about a whole bunch of single, available people on the road together. Some of whom ended up sleeping together; most of whom had ended up kissing at some point.

Except for Hancock and I. We’d come close on more than one occasion, sure. One I had even instigated, with every confidence (and hope, perhaps) that something would finally transpire between us but until this very day, nothing. We hadn’t made love, or even kissed. Not on the mouth, anyway. We held one another the way that a loving couple might and looked to one another with uncompromised commitment and veneration. I often found myself forgetting entirely about Nate when I looked at John, because it was quite simply a different feeling that I experienced for him entirely and this to me did not disrespect or discount the love that I had for my husband.

But still I wondered… and _feared_ the taking of that next step. The others teased and poked and prodded sure but no one had straight up confirmed my suspicions and I was terrified of both making a fool of myself and… I don’t know. Pounding in those last few nails on Nate’s metaphorical coffin, as it were?

It was impossible to even _have_ the conversation because I was equally as terrified of hearing the confirmation; for knowing beyond doubt how Hancock felt about me because then… _then_ … there was _no_ turning back from it. I could never look at him from that point on and continue pretending as though I might have suspected otherwise. Because it would be a lie to do so and I would not disrespect this man I adored so much with a blatant façade of my own comprehension.

And to me, it seemed unfair of them to push, especially given the situation I was in. Nick had said as much and Cait had lightly rebuffed him by bringing to light the fact that my feelings were not the only ones that were up for consideration in this circumstance. This much was true as well. And it made sense now that the usually upfront and confident Hancock hadn’t made a move. Our friendship was strong and solid, for one and I think we both cherished this wonderful relationship we shared and didn’t wish to tarnish it in any way.

But further more; it demonstrated, I think, the legitimate depth of his feelings towards me. And the respect that he had. That he would not impose himself where he was not wanted, not when I wasn’t ready or able to receive the affections of another; physical or emotional. And the fact that he had held back and indeed rebuffed me when I had been affected and messed up, told a very subtle but oh so telling narrative as to just how deeply he felt for me.

For what he hadn’t done, I could in fact draw the most meaning. And rent the greatest assurances as to the sincerity of his feelings. This set him apart from someone like Xavier; who offered the world on the condition that I would leave Nate for him. Hancock had offered me everything in the means of support once I had gotten Shaun back but hadn’t stipulated that I return the favor in any way shape or form. His compassion for me was, I could see now, unconditional. And of all the men in my life, with perhaps the exception of someone purely angelic like Nick Valentine, Hancock was the most unselfish. His care and love would persist, regardless of whether I gave my heart to him or not. I knew that now. Because I knew _him._ Felt him, on a deep intrinsic level that could only exist between people who had come into alignment so perfectly with one another’s trajectory.

So, in spite of my slight irritation with their carry on, I could do no little but agree with Cait. I cared for Hancock so much and loved him all the more for the absolute gentleman he had been in our travels and I had detracted and denied and been far too mean and stupid for far too long. He didn’t deserve to be ignored or avoided any longer. And more to the point, I didn’t want things to continue on this way. God, I missed that man _so_ much…

I didn’t invest myself any further in their conversation but applied myself whole heartedly to the renewed application of my makeup. I wanted to get this done and dusted, so to speak, so that we could steer on outta here and make our way into Goodneighbor, where I could finally address these burbling desires once and for all.

But first, a girl had best be damned sure that she was looking her best.

I used my powder brush and dabbed into the little pot of red dust; most of which was derived, I was told, from crushed, dehydrated Blood Blossoms. I shook the excess out from the bristles and then added a little dab to each cheek, which I rubbed and blended up towards my cheekbones so as to highlight them a little more. Not that it was particularly necessary; one of my few saving graces is that as one quarter Native American, I had been fortunate enough to inherit my fathers’ lovely angular bone structure. Which was greatly appreciated in the cheekbone department, though I would have much preferred not to also inherit his square jaw and chin. Ah well, one mustn’t complain. At least I got to see a good glimpse of him whenever I looked in the mirror and that was something I could most certainly appreciate now that he was no longer with me.

I sighed as I pushed at my cheeks and the side of my face, despairing a little at the lines around my eyes and the perpetual tired state they affected. I was nearly always over exhausted these days but what is one to do? I had very low blood pressure, so I’d always found it difficult to rouse and get going. Hated actually seeing evidence of it on my face however.

I pulled one eyelid down at a time to apply a dusting of dark gray powder around the borders and then filled this in with a hue that was almost a mix between brown and purple. I’d always loved these slightly gothic colors when I’d been a girl and I suppose I’d just never grown out of it. Eyeshadow and eyeliner were just two little things I loved doing; though I had very much appreciated it when Nate had paid for me to have my eyelids tattooed in my early twenties. Saved me having to apply the little flecks at the corners of my eyes.

I guess it sounds fussy and very much like I’m insecure and too focused on my appearance but to me, it I doesn’t quite feel that way. Of course, I like to spruce myself up where possible but I truly and most genuinely did just enjoy how makeup looked on my face. I could easily appreciate how other girls looked without slapping as much on; Cait and Piper for example had such naturally pretty features that they looked lovely with only the slightest highlights. Curie on the other hand, didn’t need so much as a dab; the Synth body she possessed being an extreme natural beauty.

But I on the other hand _loved_ the stuff. Had since I was a teenager. And putting my face on always made me feel better. Maybe I’m a little OCD with these things, I don’t know but the routine was soothing to me and I liked giving a little pop to my face. I thought my features were just… boring without the enhancements. Had plenty of people tell me otherwise but I think most folks are just trying to be nice, you know? Besides, if I _didn’t_ wear makeup, I bet I would be mistaken for a boy even more than I was already!

Curie sat down alongside Cait to watch with genuine wide eyed interest as I now used a small brush to delicately apply a thicker line to the tattooed border of my lid and fill in the corner of the fleck so that it was thicker. I used a charcoal pencil to flesh out my lower lid with a nice smoky effect and then coated my eyelashes with mascara. This was always my favorite part, because my eyelashes were naturally long and thick already but the tips were blonde, so you weren’t able to see this until I highlighted them. I loved watching the lashes seemingly grow and curl from nothing, until my eyes were suddenly then surrounded by these long, luxurious embellishments.

After tilting my head from side to side and examining myself in the mirror to ensure that everything was even, I carefully applied my favorite shade of Mulberry colored lipstick. Because with me, more is plainly more. I adored lipstick, especially anything with a purple tinge but I had grown particularly fond of this shade when, after playing around with it one quiet afternoon off the trail, Hancock appeared particularly enamoured with it. In his own, somewhat poetic words, it apparently made him want to ‘suck on my mouth until all the juice ran out.’ Eloquent, no. But it clearly did something for him. And I liked thinking that he was imagining such things whenever I smacked it on.

Ironically enough, it was because of Hancock that I had the luxury of being able to apply makeup in the first place. There were little odds and ends sold with traders here and there and in some of the shops I’d found on my travels; Diamond City in particular. But it had quite naturally become a luxury item in this harsh, post-apocalyptic world and the choices I’d once had at my disposal were no longer available to me. That was until Hancock had joined our merry little band and he had quite substantially revitalized our assortment of travelling items by opening up his sizeable storeroom to us. The dude had that much shit he had acquired through various trading exports and contacts with even further outlying settlements such as ‘Rivett City’ in the DC area and ‘Grand Lanta’ to the South. In one train compartment, he had acquired any number of female specific items from perfume, to makeup to… ahem, hygiene sprays. All of which I jumped at like a rabid cat. Especially the hygiene spray. Oh my god, I don’t know _how_ any woman can confidently let a man get anywhere _near_ her happy time place with the amount of sweat, lack of bathing and general poor odor control that runs rampant in the Commonwealth. I must have used up nearly half a can of the stuff in the first half an hour alone.

I’d rationed these little luxury items very carefully during our travels and used them as sparingly as possible. Now however, I thought a little extra effort wouldn’t go astray, not when matters of the heart were on the line, as it were.

I took a moment to peruse my efforts; giving my still damp hair a little ruffle to try and make it sit in a somewhat attractive manner. I’d never seen myself as a particularly good looking sort but I definitely scrubbed up okay. With my hair and makeup done, I could even pass for pretty, I suppose. I guess my eyes were nice and my skin was tan and my nose was small and gently curved. Everything was just that though; wholesome. Cute. Doe-eyed and dopy; Eve Hallows, summed up.

As I gave my hair another insecure ruffle, Deacon leaned in with his usual mischievous smile and pressed his fingertip to my nose. “Ah, _there_ she is! Thought we’d lost you for a while there, Cherub.”

I laughed as I shot a wink in his direction; snapping my handheld mirror shut finally. “Some slovenly old hag came and tried to take my place, did she?”

“Oh man, talk about hideous.” MacCready joked, taking a puff from the cigarette that he had started on whilst I’d been preoccupied with my face. “Good thing you came back and got rid of her. She was _really_ starting to make us uncomfortable.”

Cait sighed as I unfolded my leg and gave MacCready a gentle boot to the shin for his comment. “Goddamn girl… I wish I had lips like yours.” As though to emphasize her point, she reached up and pinched her fingers in around my mouth, forcing my lips into what I’m quite certain was an unattractive, goldfish like pucker. “They are the most perfect fucking BJ lips I’ve ever goddamned seen.”

“BJ? I confess I am unfamiliar with zis term.” Curie admitted, raising her brow and looking specifically towards Deacon and MacCready; both of whom started to chortle and chuckle in an immature fashion which suggested they were right on board with Cait’s meaning.

Piper sighed, rolling her eyes as she fanned herself with her hat. “If the boys reactions weren’t clear enough, Curie, it means ‘blow-job’. As in, oral sex.”

Curie’s expression didn’t change as she turned back towards where Cait still held my face prisoner; quite indifferent to the fact that my forehead was scrunched up unappreciatively at her assessment of what my mouth might be best suited for. Apart from drinking wine, sucking cigarettes and slurping down Mirelurk cakes, that is.

“So… this is to suggest that Miss Evelyn has lips that are… somehow more physically suited for the act of giving oral sex than most other women’s are?” She queried, tilting her head from side to side as her eyes focused on my mouth in a way that made me feel extremely uncomfortable. I would have sucked my lips in if Cait had let go of my cheeks. “I am sorry… but I fail to see how this could be in any way feasible. I imagine most mouths would accommodate the male sex organ in the same manner and would be adequate in doing so, provided, as I understand, that a person’s teeth are positioned as such so as to not inflect upon the delicate flesh so much-”

“Holy fucking shit.” Meyer said, clearly amused as Deacon and MacCready collapsed into hysterical laughter from close nearby. “Young madam, if you continue to talk dirty like that I shall find myself blushing and that would be a first after fifteen or so years living in Goodneighbor.” He pointed a finger at her and chuckled. “The boys are _so_ going to love _you._ ”

I grumbled, reaching up to pull Cait’s hand away from my face. “In any event, _thankyou_ Cait for your classy and not at all discomfort provoking assessment of my mouth but I’m thinking now that it might be time for us to perhaps be moving on?” I paused for a moment, feeling a strike of anxiety lash to my heart and send it into a maddening rhythm; to think of what might be coming next. I turned to Deacon, biting my lip a little and feeling guilty for my next request. “Um… Deacon? My dear darling and much beloved friend, whom I cherish and adore and would score the earth for in the blink of an eye?”

He didn’t even blink; not that I could actually tell through his sunglasses but I meant this as more of a metaphoric statement. “Yes Evelyn; my equally as much cherished and adored young comrade, who I would blot out the sun for in the passing of a heart beat and dive to the depths of the deepest and darkest of oceans at the drop of a hat, all for the chance that I might relish in the basking of your purple painted smile?”

“Oh get a room already you two.” Piper snorted, smiling even as she said it. Deacon just chuckled and shrugged in a conceding fashion.

“Hey, if Hancock’s stupid enough not to pick up a woman that can make a Mirelurk salsa burger the way that this girl can? Damned if I’m not laying some groundwork in the meantime.”

I dropped my mouth open in fake shock and astonishment. “Why Deacon! It sounds as though you would be but using me for my cooking skills alone! What is a woman to think of such blatant exploitation?”

Deacon laughed and dropped his glasses down enough to shoot a wink in my direction. “Hey, I never claimed I’d remain abstinent over the holiday season. Rest of the year; separate bedrooms, mama. But come Hanukah… whoo-ah, you’d better watch out. You’ll be in for a right proper jostling.”

I bust for laughing at the image and clapped my hands in approval. “Now here’s a man who truly understands what married life is _like_! And knows how to keep a woman happy as well.”

“With separate bedrooms?” MacCready asked, looking genuinely uncertain and kind of sympathetic as he glanced between Deacon and myself. “I don’t know… Lucy and I always slept in the same bed. Didn’t you guys actually _like_ being close to the people you married? I thought that was kinda important if you married them…”

I chuckled and reached over to pet the very concerned MacCready on the knee. “No darling, you mustn’t mind me. I’m simply a jaded old lady and Deacon’s clearly a cynical old man. We’re just having a laugh. What I _was_ going to ask Deacon my dear, if you could be so kind, is whether I might steal just a swig of that remaining bottle of Scotch before we go into town?”

A small understanding smile formed on Nick’s face and he chuckled, not unkindly as Deacon returned to his bag to fetch out the nearly already empty bottle.

“Ah, I see… feeling the slightest bit nervy are we, Evelyn?”

“Kinda feels like my stomachs about to turn in on itself.” I confessed, smiling embarrassedly as Deacon passed over the bottle which he had at some point found a cork for. I yanked this out from the top before tilting the now open neck towards him. “Just thought a little nip might help me on my way. Thankyou Deacon, my love. I’m only wanting the one gulp, I promise I won’t go and steal any more than that.”

Deacon smiled and shook his head, clearly unconcerned. “You see me worrying, Cherub? You take as big a gulp as you need. Won’t be taking it with me when I go anyway.”

It was definitely way past the yardarm and my body was just about screaming for a drink at this juncture, though I had so far done my best to ignore it. The scuffle with the Raiders had been distraction enough but with the adrenaline having finally worn off and our arrival into town imminent, my anxieties were combining with my withdrawal symptoms to make me feel well and truly out of sorts. Wine was my regular poison and what I was most specifically craving but a good swill of the old Scotch would certainly go and take the edge off.

I put my lips to the opening of the bottle, aware that my hands were starting to tremble as I did. I tilted my head back and poured a good slosh of the strong, bitter beverage into my mouth. It hit the sides of my tongue; burning and hammering against my tastebuds, before alighting on the back of my throat. Straight spirits weren’t usually my thing but fuck it; wasn’t like there were any cops around that would breatho me on the way into town. I swallowed the harsh tasting liquid down and then took another shot, faster than the first; wanting it to work my system rather than truly enjoy it. Hancock would be disgusted, I knew. He hated folks treating a good Scotch like it was no better than Nuka-Cola.

“Whoa…” Piper said, sounding astonished.

I sighed as I brought the bottle back down between my legs, wiping at one stray drop that managed to escape out over my lip. “Aww… you can feel _that_ doing ya.”

“Yum-yum.” Cait said, laughing as she took the bottle out of my hand without first asking and then slugging back on the neck herself; taking a generous mouthful into her own gullet with nearly as much confidence as I had. She gave a shake of her head as she then lowered it again and swallowed, eyes shutting for a moment to savor the hit that came with the strong, aged beverage. “Man… stuff could burn the hairs right off of your taint.”

“Hell of a party-trick.” Deacon said, leaning down and plucking the bottle out of Cait’s hand. I thought he was confiscating it from any further interference but instead he shrugged, raised it to his own mouth and took a big long gulp instead. He emerged a second later, wincing, cheeks pulled up tight to just under his eyes before handing the bottle to MacCready. “Might as well… polish her off, ay? Stroll into Goodneighbor the way we oughta.”

“What; staggering and inebriated?” MacCready asked, taking the bottle nonetheless and holding it pinched about the neck as he took a nip from the contents. He laughed as he swallowed down the mouthful he’d sucked in before passing it up to Piper. “Sounds like the way it should be. Pretty sure it’s how I first walked into town over a year ago.”

I thought Piper might refuse to partake but she wasn’t a stick in the mud kinda gal, despite the fact that she tried to be the voice of reason most often when it came to Cait and I. She took the bottle with a smile and a laugh, dabbing her fingers at me before she took a gulp herself. “If I recall right, I think Blue, Nick, Dogmeat, Codsworth and I ran in, screaming like a bunch of ninnies as we were chased by Super Mutants. And _then_ we got hit up for money from some fucking jackass.”

I nodded, remembering back as Piper handed the bottle to Curie, who stared at it curiously before taking a tentative sip herself. “Alas poor Flint; we barely knew ye.”

“I hope you’re not all about to get so intoxicated that you end up strolling in the gate and vomiting all over the place.” Nick said, though he was partly joking as he himself took the bottle of Scotch and favoured a small sip from the neck. Though he couldn’t become intoxicated himself, Nick’s memories as the detective from the old days allowed him to enjoy things such as cigarettes and alcohol in a sort of… placebo effect. His memories simply responded to the imbibing of such things in the same manner that they had learned to do so.

“Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened. Or the last, probably.” Meyer admitted, hopping back up the wall and taking the bottle out of Nick’s hand. He gestured towards us with the bottle and asked ‘You mind?’, waiting until we gave consent before he took a gulp himself. His blue eyes almost bulged out of his head and he stared at the bottle in shock and awe. “Good fucking grief! Ain’t sure where you lot went and frisked this bottle up from but I’m thinkin’ you might wanna be savin’ a mouthful for the boss, you got any care for him. Stuff’s prime, I’ll tell ya that.”

“He’s got a whole bottle to himself.” I said, flashing yet again another grateful smile in Deacon’s direction as the remaining few splashes of Scotch made their rounds across the circle again. I took another nip, feeling already the more relaxed and loopy for it, wondering if I might have a little trouble climbing to my feet now I’d gone and gotten all lazy and juiced up in the heat. But I managed it. And after slinging our bags back up onto our backs, the eight of us made our drowsy, affected way down off of the surrounding wall and fell into step behind Meyer; assuming ian unconscious role, not dissimilar to that of school children, who had a big, responsible teacher watching over them on a field trip.

It seemed weird and alien to me. Almost… anticlimactic to be dawdling on towards Goodneighbor like this. The journey I had taken to return to Hancock’s side was tempered with endless frustrations and life threatening danger. I mean, we had all just tangoed with a group of Raider’s who were seemingly intent on dragging the lady folk back to boink in their carcass bedecked little Podunk shanty’s but now… shit. Just a quiet little slog back to… well, some semblance of civilisation, I guess. And after five minutes of this, my greatest grievance was once again the sweat that had started beading between my shoulders, thighs, my armpits and… well every other crease and crack and crevice in my body.

Two hundred years ago, December had been one of the coldest months of the year in Boston. I remember, just like I remember that the weather was tempestuous and fluctuated unpredictably at the best of times. Some years, rain. Others, snow for weeks on end. I remember one particular morning in my twenties when I slid on my slightly oversized woollen mittens and with my then fiancée, rolling together a snowman of such insincere proportions that all of the neighbourhood children made fun of it. The snow lasted for a good week and so too did our poor snowman’s torments, with no rise in temperature to release him from his trials in a trickling flow of shame down the nearest drain. Nate had used some round stones from the garden to give him a little downturned mouth and pseudo sad brows; fitting, considering that he was regularly being pelted with snowballs by the local children.

I had called him the ‘Tipsy Snowman’ because he always looked as though he were caught walking home after a night out on the turps and was frozen in place just before he had tilted drunkenly over into the snow. This may or may not have been fitting on account of Nate and I perhaps scoffing far too much eggnog just before we ‘conceived’ him so to speak but the truth of that particular matter will remain forever lost to history now.

God damned this shit was _weird._ I mean, I had endured one winter in the Wasteland already and found the temperature to be inclement but certainly not as cold as it had been two hundred years ago. This December however, had taken a turn for the fucking ridiculous.

 _Why_ was it so goddamned _hot?_ And I’m not talking unseasonably warm, or moderately above freezing, which might have made sense for late December as I had remembered it. My Pip Boy registered at 100.4 degrees Fahrenheit… I could honestly not recall a time that I had lived in Boston and the temperature had reached that high.

I didn’t mind the walk though. It gave me a chance to mull some things over; things that really needed some in-depth consideration before I swanned into town and saw Hancock again. Such as, for example, whether I _did_ in fact actually want something to happen between us. This was a pretty important one. Which surprisingly wasn’t as simple to answer as one might presume.

Mine and Hancock’s feelings on the matter weren’t of course the only things up for consideration. There was Shaun to think about as well. I mean, if Hancock and I were to get involved, just what manner of involvement could I reasonably expect for him to have in Shaun’s life? If Hancock was my significant other and Shaun was my son, it only stood to reason that John would serve as something of a substitute father figure, with Nate having long since passed. And it wasn’t that I didn’t approve of the idea of Hancock acting as a step-father… far from it. After seeing the way that he was with Conner back in Diamond City and those poor children in Bunker Hill, I knew that he was wonderful with kids… not that Conner was a child but, you know…

John had a very natural nurturing side, which was surprising given that he never wanted children of his own. But perhaps his own reluctance came from the circumstances of his life and the risk that came part and parcel of it; rather than lack of desire to be a father. Perhaps he had never met the right girl when he had been human and fertile. Or perhaps he was simply like I had been; fond enough of other people’s children but unconcerned with having any of his own, as it would impact on his own life and freedom to care for another human being. I don’t know. We had never had these discussions in all our travels together. Only the one where I had asked whether he had ever wanted a brood of his own and he had simply stated that he didn’t want kids at _this_ point in time. Now that I thought back on it, it was a surprisingly evasive statement.

Furthermore, Hancock had already offered his support with Shaun and in more than one exchange in the past. Instances that had floored me with the degree of his kindness; that he would continue to search for Shaun as well if anything were to happen to me. It made me think that perhaps… yes, perhaps his feelings for me were strong enough that he was prepared to act as a father for my son. Even though it may not have been what something he ever envisioned for himself, he was able to adapt and prepared to make changes in his life to accommodate what would be a kind of… instant family. Just add nuclear fallout, hah.

I had Codsworth still with me for support, which would be instrumental to my surviving in this world after I had rescued Shaun but Hancock represented something else entirely separate from mere provision. He was a male role model; genuine and tough, with a good heart and strong moral values. He treated others with respect and decency; was an absolute gentleman when it came to women and was a mountain of fortitude when it came to taking care of himself and those he cared about. He was able to hunt, repair things, perform construction type work and twist the lids off of very tenacious jars; so he wasn’t lacking in the masculinity department, to be sure. There would have to be some discretion around his Chem use of course but so long as it wasn’t flouted under Shaun’s nose and it didn’t lead to John making irresponsible decisions and whatnot, than I could care less. I didn’t care that he did drugs; he was a fully functional person in spite of what he imbibed during the day and those things he indulged of a special occasion, were just that; a special occasion. I had never seen him lose control and I certainly knew him well enough to know that he would never lash out at either myself or a child.

Not to mention that… Piper hadn’t been wrong in reminding me that I was… well, I was still _young_ , I suppose. Well, young-ish. I had been expecting there to have been a few more years between Nate passing and my moving on and it shamed me to think that I could be considering shacking up with someone else within the seemingly meagre space of fourteen months. It sounded… appalling really, to say it like that. As though I just… didn’t love Nate enough or he wasn’t important enough or… that I was just simply one of those horrible people who didn’t know how make my way in the world without a man to reinforce me.

In my defence, there were some variables. Nate and I had been struggling in the last few months of our marriage; part of the reason I had been such a little slut and kissed Xavier that night we had fought. It wasn’t Nate’s fault that the war had changed him, just as it wasn’t mine that the pregnancy and motherhood had in turn changed me. We became two very different people when we became parents. In time, I wasn’t entirely sure whether we might have recovered or not but there had been more than a few nights I had wondered if perhaps it might have been easier to have just called it quits.

Nate had been older than I was; ten years difference and old fashioned to boot. His idea of what marriage and parenthood were like were very different from my own. Nate hadn’t expected me to be subservient but he was very stuck on living the All-American Dream. He never liked me picking up a smoke, or drinking just after the clock struck midday or going to a buddies place for a tipple on a weeknight. We started making a cage for ourselves in our home and… started resenting each other a little on account of it. I think he thought that given time he could pull me into line. And I did love being a Mom; given time to adapt to it. What I hated was being _his_ version of a Mom. His little pushes and prods and assurances when it came to Shaun; encouraging me to attend to him when he cried, coaching me into what he felt was the role of the perfect mother. Slowly putting the bars up on my window…

Nate was such a good man… a little square at times, which I thought I loved when we had first gotten together. But after a while, I found that it was driving me absolutely fucking up the wall. He always harped at me if he caught me having a smoke because I’d had a stressful day, or cautioned me if he thought I’d had that one glass of wine too many… our occasional nights of fun suddenly filtered out and became fewer and further between. He was getting older, I know and he was tired and terribly injured from the war and I would never blame him for that. It just… wasn’t where I myself wanted to be at that point in my life.

After so many years of that, meeting Hancock was like… ripping those bars off of my window again and plunging through headfirst. I felt like a teenager when I was with him; an older, pudgier, more self-assured and chilled out teenager but having fun all the while and not feeling ashamed of it. And it wasn’t that I allowed myself to be seduced in because there were seemingly no boundaries with what Hancock offered me. There were plenty of rules to follow and restrictions and considerations to be kept in mind. He was, like Nate, a good man. But unlike Nate, he was a bad boy. Or a… naughty boy, more to the point. Flirty, mischievous, sexy and a little bit dangerous. The type of guy I had always been attracted to but had kept myself far away from, because in my world, the pre-apocalypse world, these kinds of guys slurped up your finances, never settled down and ran you to ruin while you tried desperately to keep a house in order.

But Hancock was older; thank goodness. I’m not certain I could have easily tolerated a version of him that was around the same age as myself. And I wasn’t even bothered by the eighteen year age gap between us. I’d always been attracted to older men; Nate had been ten years my senior and my brief earlier relationships had all been older guys. Men often matured a lot slower than women, so Hancock was quite obviously a more mellowed out version of his younger self; still able to have fun but practical and sensible about the responsibilities of everyday life.

We were both adults and with Ghouls it seemed as though you had to stop giving a shit about age at some point anyway. What mattered was how we both connected and made each other feel. And we were clearly compatible. We had so much fun when we were together. I could have spent years alone with this man, having any number of adventures and laughing at the ridiculousness of some of the situations we had found ourselves in.

But did I really _want_ another man in my life to take care of? That was the main question I had to keep pondering to myself. Shaun looked to have been about roughly nine or ten based on Kellogg’s memories, so he was going to need a great deal of support to be fed and educated and protected in this world. Goodneighbor could provide that and Hancock would be a strong and almost insurmountable protector, that’s for certain. But there would be a trade-off for that. I’d been the feeder on the trail; keeping the food up to everyone and providing the most direct level of care whenever someone had gotten sick. I can’t imagine that this would be any different if Hancock and I were to get together. As dynamic a person as he was, he was still a male at the end of the day. Which would mean satisfying his varying array of appetites whenever they peaked. When men got to a certain point in their lives, as it seemed clear that Hancock currently was, they wanted to have a nest to return to where they could be fed, have some rumpy-pumpy and a nap and then get back up and go about their business all renewed and refreshed. And as the woman, it was my job to facilitate these things. Hooray.

Not that I minded cooking… I liked cooking, surprisingly. It sounds very anti-feminist, I know but it was a nice creative outlet that kept me focused during my journey. Not to mention that I’m an obsessive nurturer by nature. I liked taking care of others and making certain that they were fed, watered and happy. On the reserve it had been no different; all the fella’s would come back looking sweaty and gorgeous from hard work and the hunt and I’d serve up plates of roast beef sandwiches and beer, or BBQ meat or whatnot and then stand around, beaming as they all swooned back; fat and happy and heaping praise on me. Not to mention, as my mother was so fond of saying; feed a man well and he’ll be more likely to go to sleep after. Then you won’t have to deal with him trying to have his wicked way.

Though I can’t say I minded sex much either. I did in fact enjoy it quite a bit, though my libido wasn’t what you would call particularly high. One of those little side effects they fail to tell you when you blurt out a baby; stuffs with your hormones a fair bit.

These days I was repressed as hell, though. And I don’t know what it was about Hancock but I swear he must have naturally effused some sort of girl attracting pheromone because it was nearly impossible not to be completely aware of sex when you were in his presence. Every conversation I had with him, even when we first met, seemed to possess a subtle, under nuanced snifter of sexual allure. It was almost… impossible not to flirt with him. Harder still to block out those stubborn little images that drifted into my head of him simply grabbing me by the lapel of my blouse and tugging me into his bedroom and throwing me down onto his mattress.

He was a hard person to be around with all this sexual tension thrumming through my body. He managed to be very, very alluring as a beddable prospect, regardless of the fact that he was a Ghoul. Irrespective to me because sexiness, as we all know, has very little to do with appearance. It’s an imperceptible something that a person has… almost indistinguishable. His poise, his voice, his confidence… the way that he treated others, his respect and kindness. His dangerousness, too. A kind of purr in his chest when he spoke to you; like he too was thinking about doing all manner of things to you when the lamplight went out.

Not that his body was anything to sniff at either. The condition of his skin no longer phased me; I looked at this as simply another part of him and a part that didn’t deter me in the least from admiring those things about him that were in fact, entirely irresistible. And his body was… good lord.

Walking in after he had showered had been one thing; he’d been very distressed at the time but I’d still been rather unladylike myself in indulging my curiosity. Having put on a bit of weight in our travels had done him the world of good because it had beefed out his structure a bit; emphasized his muscles further. And though he wasn’t quite so broad as the men I had been attracted to in the past, he still had a terrific body. I mean those _shoulders_ for one; holy shit…

All the easier to appreciate when he had taken me to Wanderer’s Lagoon that one afternoon. What a lovely thing for him to have done, a beautiful treat – regardless of what those altruistic assholes had tried to do. Watching him swimming in the lake, so relaxed and carefree. The water sliding around all the curves, indentations and ridges of his chest and abdominal muscles… the flex of his biceps and the tightness of that cute, perfect little bottom… dear God that boy was asking for it. And I don’t think he quite realized how much I kept holding myself back in those moments. Especially after my unintentional glimpse of the whole – ahem – package, as it were. Certainly answered a few questions as to why the girls kept chasing him around the settlements, that’s for certain.

But it weakened me I admit, every time I saw that horrible brand on his back. I never reacted the first moment I saw it in the showers; when I had been binding his ribs, because I didn’t want to give it a seconds notice. I wouldn’t grant credence or further tears to what those dreadful, evil bastards had done to this man I cared for. This man who I wanted to hold. Who I wanted to fall asleep in the arms of. This man I truly did wish to nurture, feed, cherish and tolerate – nay, enjoy – the odd bit of rumpy-pumpy from. Because what a lover he must be. Just as one of the girls who was chasing him had said in a little conversation with me at a settlement we had been staying in; _‘He’s the only man who always makes me come when we’re together. I mean, who gives a shit how he looks when he can fuck like that?’_

And why kid myself that there was any other man I could have made a life with in this world? Regardless of whether I waited one year, five years, or ten years out of respect for Nate, I doubted anything would change the feelings that I had for Hancock. All I would be doing was delaying the inevitable.

John had entered my world just when I had needed someone like him to pull the handbrake on and bring me to a halt in my journey. I was speeding ahead, out of control and wobbling wildly on the tracks, with no specific destination in mind. Heading sharply towards chaos but too afraid to allow the embers in my belly to burn cold. I needed someone with his strength and stability to grant me the assurance I required to ease up on the throttle a little. To tell me that it was okay to slow the journey down; to keep me fastened tight to the tracks and the fires burning just that little lower whilst I took the time to check the map and pull repairs.

And as we travelled, we had grown closer. He was simply unlike any other person I had ever met in my life; cliché though I suppose it sounds to admit such a thing. John was… exciting. The kind of person I wanted to be around, whose approval I sought so readily and who amped me up to meet his own energy when we were together. And such a good friend besides. Being an older man, he had his moments of sage, learned wisdom that seemed so out of character for the chilled, mischievous chap I most often spent my days with. He was confident and caring; unafraid of being his true earnest self, the way so many younger men are. And he was dangerous; brave and gutsy and hot headed when it came to kicking ass. And then there were those times when he was smooth and charming and maybe even a little romantic.

We walked together most often when travelling in the Commonwealth; distracted and preoccupied with our whispered conversations and shared curiosity with one another. He knew my favorite color, favorite season and most of my likes and dislikes. I in turn knew _his_ favorite color (red – because it was strong, like the color of his jacket), his favorite season (summer, because the girls started wearing less) and most of his likes and dislikes. (Likes: Kicking bad guys butts, Chems – particularly Mentats, a cold beer, a good scotch, the game Red Menace, the magazine _Guns and Ammo_ , cigarettes, a quiet moment to enjoy a joint, jazz music, a good session with people he enjoyed the company of, sex of course and beautiful women that he could enjoy sex with. Dislikes: People who took advantage of those that were vulnerable, Raiders, people who were two-faced, cruelty in general, stealing, rape, being tight fisted, not providing help to those in need, shellfish, stinky things in general, being out in wide open spaces, getting up too early.)

Of a night, our natural draw to one another meant that we often outlasted the others and stayed awake to chat and share jokes and stories, smokes and drinks. Because our talking and laughing disturbed the others, we set our sleeping kits up side by side so that we could chat quietly. When we fell asleep, we were close enough then. Close enough that I could hear his breathing… and all other manner of things aside, heh. Dogmeat started to share the space between us, concerned I think, that my affections were broadening to include someone that might have challenged him for top billing.

And then, Dogmeat had to concede defeat and lay only to one side of me. Because Hancock and I moved closer. Some nights I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck. One night, his hand slid around my waist, though I think he woke and realized what he had done and retracted it quick smart. I wasn’t sure what I thought at the time but I know now that I was disappointed. I certainly hadn’t done anything to stop him. I liked feeling close. I liked _him._ A whole lot more than I felt was right for someone who was only now growing accustomed to being a widow.

Those last few weeks where it was just the two of us, eradicated almost every remaining dreg of distance between us. One would sleep whilst the other stayed awake to guard but this still somehow managed to work. One warm afternoon I had briefly stirred from a nap to find that Hancock had snuggled down next to me on the bedroll, with his arm around my shoulders and my face buried into the side of his chest. I hadn’t moved because I thought he might do what he normally did; feel as though he was imposing on me and move away or apologize. I didn’t want either of this things. I just wanted him to hold me.

I wanted to feel the calm and the warmth and the peace of his embrace. To feel safe and protected by a man whilst I slept. To feel his comfort and strength and affection. I felt so incomparably safe when I was with him. Not only in that he could kick the ass of just about anything that swanned our way but because of his gentle, assuaging nature towards me. That he seemed to like the me that had slowly revealed itself to him over time; not the pristine, over starched version of myself that I figured most people would approve of. I felt genuinely safe to be my authentic self around him; the whole fucked up, sometimes unlikeable trash bag, who smoked, swore and drank. Who did the occasional Chem because god forbid if I might have wanted to have a slightly easier time of falling asleep when my brain was racing with vicarious trauma and whatnot.

Hancock was so different to Nate in so many ways; the extent of their similarity was that they were both good men, cut and dry. Despite this, I couldn’t ever quite reconcile the fact that any man I might develop feelings for could simply be serving as transference for my husband. Because I wanted back all the things that I had with Nate. I always worried that at some point I might crave it so badly that I would do just about anything within my power to convince myself that I felt a certain way, simply so I could pretend like I had my husband back in my life.

So I had resisted. And avoided dealing with things and tried to convince myself that Hancock’s feelings, whatever they were, would pass over as a storm front and melt away like the tipsy snowman from all those years ago. It would be better for him, I believed, to never have to deal with someone as weak and messed up as me. The things that I needed to recover from, would take far longer to work through than most men were prepared to wait. And I had no delusions as to my being in any way an exception to that rule. There was nothing outstanding about me in the least; nothing that couldn’t be found with any other agreeable young lady in the Commonwealth. And men as a point were particularly contrary by nature. Especially when their penis was concerned. That thing had little to no concept as to what the term ‘delayed gratification’ meant.

Perhaps being back in Goodneighbor would remind John him of the carefree life he had before. Perhaps he would be back to that same hardened, smooth talking Mayor Hancock I had met that long year ago and all my concerns would be for moot.

It might be a relief in fact. Things could continue on the way they were and no one would have to be hurt. Perhaps coming back home had given him some perspective on the matter and he would now realize that the high stress situations that we had been in on our journey together, were wholly responsible for the depth of his feelings. It would feel as though waking from a dream and shaking that whimsical cloudy residue away. By now, he had probably foisted a couple of girls into his bed and worked off some of that pent up energy. It would no doubt help him to think clearer, having more diverse company than my own. He would wonder what all that waiting around had been for; why he had wasted his time hanging his hopes on me, when there really wasn’t anything special on offer. Just this tired, messed up old prude of a lady.

So why then, did it make my chest ache to think about him lying with another woman? Some other girl, curled up at his side with her face buried against the wall of his chest… his arm around her shoulders… Laughing and sharing drinks, having a smoke together. Kissing her neck and stroking his fingers down into the small of her back, whispering into her ear with that smooth, lovely voice of his…

There are some things in life that we simply cannot avoid. To act on them is one thing; there is a choice in how we go about dealing with certain matters. But there was no changing the fact that I had always been attracted to Hancock; admiring of him both as a person and as a man. His strength of character, his integrity, the fact that he didn’t go about feeling sorry for himself or his condition. That he was so accommodating of the short comings of others. His gentle warmth and his inherent fondness for other people. Not to mention the way that he could kick down a door when he had a head of steam up – _whoo-ah._ That shit was hot enough to shake loose a few eggs, _that’s_ for sure.

What we had together was very strange. The simplest way to explain it in my own mind however, was that I adored him. He was the best friend I had ever had, in both this life and the one that came before. I had never been closer to another person; so naturally in synch and so stimulated by his presence. He was one of the few people who I most genuinely did want to spend almost every moment of every day with, simply because we got along so well.

And more than that too… because to imagine him with this other metaphorical girl made me feel… hurt? Possessive, maybe? A little angry, for certain. Though he certainly didn’t owe me anything, not with the way that I had purposefully kept him at arm’s length these past few months. He had every right to go and gets his jollies with someone else, rather than wait around for me to get my stupid, angsty ass in gear.

And whilst my brain was very clear on the reality of the matter; my body and my emotions were saying something completely adverse and somewhat irrational. Hijacking my thoughts with images of Hancock’s mouth against _my_ neck, instead of this conjectural girl he was supposed to be screwing. His hands caressing the curve of my spine, pulling our bodies tight together so that I could feel the press of him through the front of his pants…

I tried to clamp down on these little fantasies when they blossomed, unbidden in my mind but the allure was getting harder and harder to fight. I got a guilty little flush of pain in my chest and stomach whenever I thought about it; the two of us becoming intimate. I did my best also to deny that this was something I actually wanted but it got more and more difficult as time went on. Those little caresses of his lips moved to other places on my body, as did his hands… there were fewer clothes between us, fewer restrictions and barriers.

I loved Nate. And I missed him terribly. But I was glad that he wasn’t around to see this. Because I can’t say beyond doubt that my feelings for Hancock stemmed from my need to replace the man I missed with another man.

I think, quite honestly that irrespective of whether Nate was at my side or not, I would have been drawn to Hancock in the exact same way. Or else, I never would have allowed myself to get as close as I had this past year of travelling together. And what a tragedy that would have been, because I did so adore him. I did… yes, I did in fact love him, I’m certain. I felt overwhelmed with the need for him to be present in my life. He was such a dear friend and a fine, decent man; regardless of whether he quaffed chems, misbehaved or whatever. That was inconsequential. For all the kindness and care he had shown me this past year, I could care less if he melted crayons down and injected them into his tear ducts with a syringe used to artificially inseminate Brahmin.

I didn’t care how he looked, what he took, or what had happened to him in the past; I cared how he made me _feel._ And how I in turn seemed to make _him_ feel. We were a good, sweet salve for one another and less than effective when we were apart.

I jolted out of my thoughts as I heard Meyer’s raised voice from ahead and glanced up to see him speaking into what looked like the speaker compartment of a black walkie-talker. “Vinnie; headin’ on back with the missus’s hubflowers and a coupla little stragglers I ran into. Had themselves a tangle with a group of Raider's just outside the town's borders. Ya wanna get the gate primed and prep for entry?”

He released the button on the side, holding the device about a half foot from his ear as he awaited reply. A few seconds later, another voice crackled to life from the speaker.

“Wouldn’t I love to do that but you know the policy now, Fireman. Ain’t openin’ that gate ‘til I see the veiny whites of your nasty eyes brother. And say ‘over’ when you finish speakin’, goddammit. Got trained up on this shit and everythin’ and you ain’t playin’ right. _Over._ ”

Meyer sighed, glancing over his shoulders at us and shrugging tiredly. “ _Oy vay._ Enough ta wanna push a Ghoul to early retirement, I swear…” He shook his head and depressed the button again; bringing it down towards his mouth to resume the conversation. “It’s that group that _Capo_ ran with. Got his lady friend in tow and all. Ya wanna dally her at the gate, risk her gettin’ rubbed out by a loose Raider fine but you can be the one ta explain it to the boss. Thinkin’ he might be wantin’ ya to make an exception, brother. _Over._ ”

Silence was the immediate response from the shortwave and then. “Ah… well that changes things. I’ll get the boys ta crank the gate. Still gonna have to check their weapons though. Ain’t worth my job to fudge that shit. Over and out.”

Meyer sighed, grumbling to himself in the little Italian he knew as he flipped off the transmitter and slid it back into his pocket. He led us past a familiar building that I remember had once been home to a number of Supermutants. The place had been cleaned up entirely and there were turrets positioned in the windows, which tracked us carefully as we passed. Meyer gestured to them.

“Trained to fire on Supermutant’s only. Avoids collateral with human and Ghoul faces, ya dig? Any Raider’s get close to the town we got more regular patrols now ta take care of ‘em.” He indicated a large sign nearby; that looked to have been rather professionally put together. “You’ll see a lot more of these around the place these days. Something else the boss has thrown into the mix.”

We all stopped beneath the sign to read what was written upon it. The writing itself looked to have been made using stencils and black paint; which gave it an appearance not dissimilar to the signs of the past.

**_“Goodneighbor – 100 yards to your right._ **

**_All are welcome. Please however keep the following rules in mind whilst you are visiting our friendly town:_ **

**_1.)_ _All weapons must be checked and registered at gate. You will be denied entry if weapons are not holstered. Translation: Keep it in your pants, folks._**

**_2.)_ _All Caravans are to be searched prior to entry. No exceptions. You must be registered with the Mayor’s office to trade in the township. Anyone caught trading without a requisite pink slip, will receive quite the thrashing._**

**_3.)_ _Un-neighborly activity will not be tolerated in Goodneighbor. This includes but is not limited to common assault, disrespectful behavior, thievery, extortion, murder and public urination. Any infractions shall be dealt with swiftly by security personnel. Especially the urination._**

**_4.)_ _Register your name and reason for visiting Goodneighbor at the gate. Your business is your business but it will help us keep abridge of who is in the township. This helps to protect both yours and others safety; especially in the unlikely event of an emergency._**

**_5.)_ _In the unforeseen event_ of _an unlikely emergency; please follow the directions of the Neighborhood Watch. They usually figure out what to do._**

****

**_If you have any concerns or questions the Mayor’s office is always open; no appointment necessary. Keep in mind that the open door policy extends only to the day area and not to the bedroom area. The Mayor kindly requests that you please stop going into his bedroom. Especially when he is sleeping. That shit is just creepy._ **

****

**_We further ask that you please exercise patience, as the town is currently undergoing extensions and renovations. We apologize for any inconvenience caused as a result of the very loud, cacophonous clanging and banging sounds but do remind all visitors that these extensive changes will only benefit the township in the long term._ **

****

**_We hope you enjoy your stay. Please speak to your friendly Neighborhood Watch Rep at the front gate for more information about the town amenities (such as they are)._ **

****

**_Regards,_ **

**_John Hancock – Town Mayor (Look for the sexy Ghoul with the tricorner)_ **

 

I burst out a snort of laughter after reading the sign. Jesus, it must have taken a shitload of time to draft all that up but it definitely possessed Hancock’s signature little jabs of cheeky humor. Though it also definitely demonstrated just how seriously he was taking shit now. The others had already finished reading and were drifting back behind Meyer again; chatting about what had been written on the sign. I took a moment to run my fingertips over John’s name; smiling at how he had described himself as ‘the sexy Ghoul with the tricorner’. Some shit never changed.

I quickly scuttled to catch up with the group; fanning my face with my hand to try and cool it down before my makeup started beading off with my sweat. I loved the hot weather, but this was getting ridiculous! I wondered just how much the nuclear radiation had to do with the strange climate extremes, never mind the passage of two hundred so years and how that may have affected the weather patterns. I certainly was not complaining as much as some of the other members of the group; though this was not entirely as a result of the heat.

“Honestly Piper, if I hear one more groan from back there, I swear to god I’m going to prop you over my knee,” I quipped, turning to look over my shoulder with what I hope was an expression that backed up my statement and left nothing to be misinterpreted.

Piper, fanning herself with her hat, shot back an equally unimpressed look. She looked completely miserable, though no less pretty for it, even with her black hair sticking in greasy strands to her face. With her intense hazel eyes, shrewd brows and angular face, I always imagined that in my time she would have made it quite easily as a glamorous television reporter. The kind who you would always find reassuring in a crisis with her cool, calm demeanour.

Now however, she looked anything but cool and calm. With her hat in hand and thick road leather jacket tied into a neat bundle with her scarf and hanging from her side, she wore an expression that would have sent the nearest Deathclaw running for cover. Sure enough, I was forced to duck when she hurled the scarf enveloped bundle in my direction, with such vehemence I don’t think she would have minded if she took my head off my shoulders in the process.

“Shut it, Blue! You’re the one who made us traipse all the way to Goodneighbor in this ungodly fucking heat! And for what?” She snapped rhetorically as I (kindly) retrieved her improvised projectile and tossed it back to her. “To have _Hancock_ join up with us again? What part of this do you expect me to _not_ groan about?”

I pursed my lips into a deliberate pout, using the fact that we had all but stopped to pull my singlet top away from the line of my body and flutter it about to get some air flowing to my sweaty flesh. Honest to God, my _kingdom_ for a cold shower and a semi-decent glass of wine.

“Piper~” I drawled, trying to admonish her as I pulled out the top of my top to try and get some air down over my breasts. I was forced to turn to the side to deter a deliberately provocative glance from MacCready who just laughed for having roused me a little. “Just think if Hancock could hear you saying that. He must be miserable enough as it is having missed out on so much mischief and here you are _groaning_ about him?”

I heard a burst of laughter from behind me and immediately regretted my choice of words as Deacon rounded up on the conversation, lowering the bridge of his glasses to flash a wink in Piper’s direction.

“I should think the old Ghoul would be glad to hear he was making our Piper groan,” He cracked, almost matching word for word the vulgar quip that had appeared in my head just moments after I had uttered my prior sentence. He smirked, leaning close to Piper’s ear and added as an afterthought, “Though maybe he’s not the ghoul you want thinking about you, eh?”

Piper responded in a very mature fashion by un-holstering her pistol, pulling back the safety and aiming the barrel directly at Deacon’s forehead. The Railroad spy immediately backed off, raising both hands in a show of surrender. His face barely indicated a hint of alarm however and I’m certain this would only have pissed Piper off more.

“Okay, okay… take it easy, no harm meant.” He said, turning away with a smile which suggested everything to the contrary. Piper scowled as she holstered her gun, swiping her hat even more erratically at her face which had developed a strange, tell-tale blush.

“Deacon; go hug a Suicider and do us all a favour. And Eve, I just don’t… think that we… necessarily _need_ Hancock back on board. Your unresolved romantic and or sexual tensions with him notwithstanding.” Piper grated, though she continued following along behind as the rest of us carried on, undeterred, towards Goodneighbor. “I mean, it’s not like he brings anything useful to the team dynamic that the rest of us can’t already cover. Unless you count uncomfortable and thinly veiled come on’s that is.”

 “Which I do,” Cait interjected, raking her chipped fingernails back through her messy head of hair as she strode ahead of us. She seemed to be dealing with the heat well, though mainly on account of the broad gap she had left in her corset style top I imagined. Honestly, I wasn’t a prude but a shift or two in either direction and her nipples were likely to spring free, which I’m certain would have thrilled the Watchmen to no end. “And they’re only uncomfortable if you don’t know how to take them, love. About time you learnt not to be so uptight.”

Piper wrinkled her nose in response, clearly unappreciative of Cait’s comment though not so inclined to pull a weapon on her for it, thank goodness. “I’m not _uptight_ , I just choose not to encourage poor personality traits. You could stand to learn a thing or two about that, Cait.”

I offered Piper the most a patient smile I could muster as I re-tucked and realigned my attire, having observed the reticent glow of Goodneighbor’s welcome signs. There weren’t too many Raider’s or even Supermutants who would try anything this close to the town, not unless they had a small army behind them and a solid attack plan in advance.

“Don’t give her such a hard time, Cait. She’s probably nervous enough as it is, getting to see _Adrian_ after all this time.”

Piper’s petulant expression darkened further at this comment and she shot me a particularly filthy look. “Oh ha, ha, Blue. So this is the thanks I get for swimming through all the Commonwealth’s crap with you this past, what, year or so? See if I so much as take a half-hearted potshot the next time a Mirelurk’s running your ass down.”

Deacon, eyes twinkling from behind his dark glasses, mustered his resolve and gave Piper a little nudge in the shoulder as he drew even with her.

“I think this is what they call a classic example of ‘Dishing it out but not able to take it’.” He quipped, moving around her and leaning backwards so that his face was upside down as he continued speaking. I wondered how his Pompadour wig managed to stay affixed to his usually shaved skull when he did this. “Not so funny when the shoes on the other foot, ay reporter? Or the pen in the other hand, so to speak.”

In response to this, Piper shifted all her weight to one side, falling hard against Deacon’s shoulder so that he toppled inelegantly over his own feet, unprepared to receive her weight. She rounded it off with a firm shove to his arm that almost spectacularly upended the Railroad agent in a large pile of rubble nearby.

“Ugh, you see? I get enough of this shit without adding Hancock to the equation!” She snapped, smirking a little as Deacon windmilled his arms wildly in a futile attempt to remain standing. Gravity quickly won this theoretical tug of war and he toppled like a felled tree, backside first into the hollow centre of a deflated tire. “At least I can push this guy around when he gets on my nerves. Hancock just gives it back to you with both barrels.”

“Which is precisely _why_ we’re picking him up again,” I stated, using my hand to fan herself whilst we rounded the corner to see Goodneighbor’s gates come into view well and proper. My voice sounded much calmer than I actually felt. “It’s gonna take a while now for Tinker Tom to finish putting the teleportation device together and there’s plenty of shit to be done around the Commonwealth in the meantime. Say what you want about him girl, but Hancock’s a good fighter and he pulls his own weight.”

“Even I’ve got to cop to that,” Nick agreed, his pocketed face twisting into a tolerant smile as Piper sighed, rolling her eyes up and puffing a strand of hair free from her brow. She looked the very definition of a child who was not getting her way and was only agreeing to the very minimal conditions of her surrender. “Questionable though some of his methods are, Hancock knows how to hold his own. You’d be better off having him around than worrying later when facing off with the entire Institute.”

“That’s true,” I agreed, giving Piper a good natured little wink. You wouldn’t think we were so close to hear us argue but despite the five year age difference we had managed to bond surprisingly well during the time we had travelled together. She had told me some incredible stories about her past; stuff that she had never told anyone else apparently, which is a sentiment that makes you feel so amazingly privileged and always undeserving. “With the Institute and the Brotherhood throwing all their crap at us, I’d much rather have our own little juggernaut on counter point. Hancock’s the type who’d throw himself headfirst at a turret and try and clog up its gattling gun with his disintegrated innards.”

“And probably succeed, no doubt.” Cait added, which was not an unfair assessment. “Anyway, can we just quit it now with all the bitchin’ and moanin’ and just get on in there already? There’s a Drinkin’ Buddy in there with an ice cold brewski that’s got my name written on it and I ain’t waiting for someone else to swipe it.”

I felt saliva flood my mouth at the mention of cold beer. Cait may have had that almost stereotyped thirst of the Irish but the girl could barely hold a candle to me when it came to the drink. Though I much usually preferred wine, which was difficult to try and jam into the Drinking Buddy and was never there when I went back for it. But right then at that moment I could have flipped Cait through a Vertibird’s blades if it meant getting a cold beer first. It was the hot weather; bringing to mind all those lazy summer afternoons hanging around the BBQ, cracking beers and serving up hotdogs.

“Uh oh… Eve’s pupils are getting dilated again,” Deacon cracked, though it was most likely a very honest observation. “Better not be holding these two old soaks back another second, they’re likely to start slurping the contents out of a Stimpak.”

Cait turned on her heel and marched back towards Deacon, swinging her hips to and fro as though offering the world before dispensing a hearty punch to his midsection that crumpled him like origami; straight back down into the tire he had just managed to extricate himself from. “You might wanna think about sheathing that butter knife wit of yours Deacon. Some of the boys in Goodneighbor ain’t as sweet as I am.” She turned to me with a smile and fluttered her lashes, clearly in the mood to tease. “Though that depends on who they’re being sweet to, of course.”

I dispensed what I hope was a very maidenly sigh, though it ended up sounding like something an adolescent boy would proffer as his testicles sprouted. “Are you trying to suggest that I get preferential treatment because of my extra-special cuddly friendship with Hancock, Cait? Seems a little unfair to think that I wouldn’t garner that kind of respect on my own merits.”

I had already turned my back to stalk towards Goodneighbor’s gate when I heard Cait’s footsteps speed up behind me. Before I could do anything to deflect her no doubt insincere attentions, her hands had already slipped under my arms and cupped around my breasts.

“I think you’ll find that _these_ are the _merits_ that win you special treatment,” She laughed, giving my boobs a squeeze and then releasing me just before my windmilling arms could knock her sideways. I tried to stomp kick her shin but she danced away much too quickly. Though to be fair, I was rather distracted by realigning my breasts from where they had loosened in the little cups I had made from my flannel shirt.

“Cait, for fucks sake! I _will_ kick your ass and mean it this time!” I snapped, giving my top a decisive squiggle, which tucked my supposed ‘merits’ back firmly into their confines.

“All right you two, try to behave now.” Nick advised, though he wore that tempered little smile he usually adorned when it came to the women in our group. He had an entirely separate expression that he donned when it came to the boys antics; far more severe. “And Cait, not to uh… squash your expression of female liberty and such but… might I suggest you tighten your top before we head inside? You’re going to get all the Neighborhood watch far too riled up in that state.”

“Cait would like that,” I teased, getting my own back for the Irish girls’ assault on my person.

“Too right I would. Whose fun are you trying to ruin, Valentine? Some of us are still interested in sex, you know.”

Nick sighed, turning his head side long so the bolts that comprised his jaw were visible through the jagged tear in his cheek. “Forget I said anything. Just… trying to make less work for myself, really.”

I chuckled, giving the synth a conciliatory rub on the back as Deacon waddled up beside us, crouched over with the tire still framing his backside like a bizarre Pompadour donning turtle.

“Shall we head on in, then?” Codsworth asked, giving a perfunctory little cough that of course, as a Mr Handy, was entirely unnecessary. “Mr Deacon’s allusions aside, my scanners indicate that you are indeed greatly dehydrated, mum. Pupils fully dilated notwithstanding, of course.”

“Thankyou Codsworth,” I said sarcastically, annoyed that my Butlerbot from two hundred years ago knew me too well and was too honest to try and veil any of my shortcomings for vanity’s sake. This kept the others endlessly entertained of course but was an endless source of embarrassment for me.

Meyer led us closer to the gates, where I could see now a trader and his Brahmin going through an inspection process beneath a sheltered little pavilion that had been newly erected just outside the gates. The gates which I could see now, had already been pushed open as promised for our ease of entry.

One of the guards, a fellow I knew by the name of… Callan, I’m pretty sure… looked over as he saw us approaching and made a big show of gasping and clutching his chest.

“Oh bless my stars!” He said, affecting a stereotypical female southern drawl. “Meyer, if you’ve only gone and brought us a couple of lady callers!” He leaned against one of the support beams of the pavilion; pressing the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically. “Oh, mama _will_ be pleased to think that I won’t die alone! You can take those blokes away though; god only knows why you thought we needed more wieners in this fucking sausage factory.”

“Same as ever…” Deacon sighed, shedding the tire from his rump and smiling in the face of the near insult that had just been levelled at him. He was quite right however; the Neighborhood Watch nearly always provided the same reception whenever we came to town. Extremely accommodating (almost too much so) towards the women and barely tolerant of the males. I could kind of understand why, from their point of view; the girls provided some sport for their promiscuous attentions whilst the fella’s were just more competition.

Callan glanced over at Deacon and gave a little tut-tut-tut, waving his finger to and fro. “Oh, there’s no need to be feeling left out there, pretty boy. Ryan’ll be sure to see to _your_ needs, sure enough.” He laughed at the not at all enticed expression on Deacon’s face before grasping hands with Meyer in a typical Goodneighbor gesture of comradery. “Just head on through when you’re ready, brother. Seriously though man, you need to learn how to operate that shortwave better. Ain’t done yourself any favors, none.”

Meyer quirked one of his brow ridges, looking confused. “What ya talkin’ about?”

“Ya must have had it on the open broadcast bandwidth, ya dopy old fuck. Message transmitted out to all the security personnel. Got every fucking body with a dick attached to it hoppin’ up and down inside the gate, waitin’ ta get their mitts on the lady folk.”

Nick immediately went into ‘harm-minimisation’ mode and positioned himself in front of Cait and Curie and then quickly reached out to grab Piper and myself and pull them in behind him.

“Just stay close.” He whispered. “If anyone grabs you, point them out to me and I’ll be sure to find them later and give them a very stern talking to.”

Callan and Meyer both snorted to see this. “Valentine buddy, you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about with old yummy-mommy there.” Callan said, waving a hand indolently in my direction. “Ain’t no one dumb enough to go touchin’ her on any of her special places. Boss’d have their heads and every other limb besides. Rest of you chickies might wanna guard your loins though. Friendly neighborhood advice.”

Curie glanced over at me from behind Nick’s back, looking strangely excited by what was occurring. “Am I to understand that we are in some sort of danger from the individuals inside of this gate, Evelyn?”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “If by danger, you mean the inadvertent flirtation and pat to the bum, than _yes_ Curie. We are in danger of our fucking lives, apparently.”

“Eve?” A familiar voice called from over in the pavilion. A voice that made my heart drop a little in my chest and forced me to bite back a sigh that threatened to escape. Of _course._ Given that all matters of the heart were thusly being considered, it made perfect sense for _him_ to show up and throw things _further_ into confusion.

“Hello Xavier.” I greeted, smiling as the Ghoul stepped out from under the pavilion; pulling his yellow trenchcoat back on over his shoulders. He was quite dedicated to keep wearing this in the heat and I can only imagine that he had taken it off for the perfunctory search of his person and wares. “Fancy seeing you here. Dropping in to town to trade?”

He gave a little nod and smiled at me warmly. Since moving back to Sanctuary, Xavier had gotten a new lease on life and seemed much brighter and far more like his old self whenever I saw him. It was a relief, because I’d been very concerned for his welfare when we’d first run across one another in the Hotel Rexford all those months prior.

“I was asked to come and represent Sanctuary’s interests in the fete tomorrow night.” He said, twitching to the side a little as the other Neighborhood Watchmen appeared; smiling somewhat sadistically as he passed Xavier his hat back. Given his unhappy time spent in the town, I think the boys might have been putting him through the paces a bit more just to rile him up. I can’t imagine he had been very popular at the time; moaning and groaning about how he hated his lot, his life, being a Ghoul, Goodneighbor, Diamond City and… well, everything really. Goodneighbor boys were proud of their town and didn’t much like people badmouthing it or the folks who lived there. I was glad to see that Xavier was being a good sport about it though. He must have been a lot more secure in himself these days.

“Fete?” I asked, catching onto the word just before I dismissed it entirely out of hand. “What are you talking about?”

Xavier gave me a look like I was a bit thick headed. “Um… that would be the _Christmas_ fete, Evelyn. Goodneighbor holds it every year. Looks like they’re getting a lot more stalls this time around too, given the extensions to the town and all.” He chuckled, shaking his head in mirth. “You really _are_ losing track of things, huh? Guess that shouldn’t be surprising; everything you’ve been going through and all.”

A quick check of my Pipboy confirmed it; the date was the 23rd of December. Christmas Eve _eve_ as Nate had often referred to it. (He then of course would make an unnecessary joke about how _my_ name being Eve worked in so well during the holiday season but he was never able to be just witty enough to work it in well enough).

“No holiday pun intended but holy shit!” I exclaimed, using my spare hand to smack the side of my head. “I completely _forgot_ that it was Christmas in two days’ time! Well, I didn’t forget… so much as it just kind of…crept up on me faster than I realized. How scary is that?”

“Easy enough to happen, what with the way the world is these days.” Xavier commiserated, though he didn’t sound nearly as miserable about reality as he once did. Not bemoaning it so much as stating a fact. He gave me another little smile and petted my arm. “Listen, I gotta get all these wares straightened out with these boys. You got time to catch up later? I’m… happy to buy you a drink if you like?”

I bit my lip; wondering if there was any meaning behind the drink or whether he was just trying to be friendly. I assumed it was that latter one. Two hundred years seemed an awfully long time to pine for someone and I wasn’t so full of my own self-importance as to assume that I was _wonderful_ enough to fancy for that long. Especially not without proper reciprocation. Though Hancock seemed to think much differently; he was of the opinion that Xavier was still keen on me but I wasn’t convinced. Part of me simply assumed that this was Hancock being a little possessive. I knew for a fact that he wasn’t a fan of Xavier; who had made his many criticisms of the town and its’ mayor in particular, very well known.

“Sure.” I replied, flashing him another smile as I leaned forward to give him a light punch to the side. “That’s assuming the fella’s ever let you go, eh?”

Xavier offered up a reticent sigh and a smile at his own folly. “As the saying goes; I have made my bed. Now I must wallow in it. I’ll come find you later, okay?” He continued to smile as he re-entered the pavilion, picking up a clipboard and presenting it to Callan who seemed to be making a point of triple checking everything in the Brahmin’s saddle bags. Naughty boys.

I thought I might head inside then, knowing that stalling was only likely to make me more nervous than ripping the metaphorical Band-Aid off was but I was delayed further by Nick. He actually ceased his vigil over the other girls, who seemed to be chatting with the other Neighborhood watchmen anyway, to come over and take me by the arm. He gave his usual crooked smile and tilted his head off to the side.

“Hey… just before we go inside… you mind if we have a quick word?”

As if my anxiety wasn’t peeking through the roof already, Nick’s words only made me feel more the nervous. Nevertheless, I gave him a smile and followed him to just behind the canvas wall of the pavilion; using the time to fan out my shirt again. I know that Nick wouldn’t care about seeing anything he ought not to be seeing.

He took a moment; silicone hand pressed to clawed digits and turning over on themselves indecisively. He looked just about as nervous as I felt. But he did finally speak.

“Listen,” He said, his artificial eyes shining with genuine care and compassion. “I’ve been thinking about how things went down with Winter. I… never properly thanked you for that.”

I felt my brows rise high into the lines of my forehead; quite honestly surprised that this had been causing him such concern. I hadn’t much of an idea as to what he wished to discuss with me when he took him aside, but of all things I hadn’t expected _this._ Only because I felt that nothing had been remiss in how the entire situation with Eddie Winter had gone down. It was clearly causing Nick some internal grievance however and I wondered just how long he had been sitting on this without addressing it.

“Hey…” I murmured, leaning forward to squeeze the side of his arm. I felt heat through the tattered sleeve of his jacket; the synthetic skin warmed by the constant whirring of the mechanized components beneath. I fancied however, that this feeling was ever so natural evidence of Nick’s existence; his breathing soul. “Taking down Winter was a big deal. Are you doing alright?”

Nick sighed, reaching up to take the hand that I had pressed to his arm. My relationship with Nick was as close as that as a father and daughter; with no duplicity of intentions or underlying, unspoken machinations. I could always trust in the cut and dry nature of our friendship and rely on Nick to always act with integrity and honesty in return; because he desired nothing more from me than the very same.

“I don’t know.” He confessed and this for him was a huge deal. To admit to someone else in the group of people that he felt responsible in maintaining a strong front for, that he wasn’t altogether okay with how things had transpired. Revealing this crack in his surety was massive and once again placed me in the undeserved position of being trusted and respected enough to be privy to a wonderful person’s vulnerabilities. “It’s a lot to take in. Winter… was it. The only reminder left of the original Nick Valentine. The last proof outside of some long lost Institute archive I was ever just a mechanical copy of some cop from a bygone era.” He let out another long, slow, unneeded breath; shaking his head at the ground without making eye contact. I think he might have felt a little ashamed with himself. “I’m not sure how to feel.”

I pressed my hand to his other arm, kneeling a little so that he could see my face; refusing for him to think of himself this way. To admonish himself for a feeling that was one hundred percent, entirely quintessential human. “Don’t you see, Nick?” I asked, smiling as he finally allowed his eyes to strike against my own. “You’re finally _free._ There is no “other Nick” anymore.” I slapped my hand firm to his arm, making him aware of the physical reality of himself. “Just you.”

“I wish it was that easy.” He said, sounding a little grumpy. I guess he thought me a little naïve with my statement and perhaps it hadn’t been the most supportive thing to say but it came from the heart and it was how I well and truly felt. “But it’s not. Because I WAS Nick Valentine. I had his memories. His _fears._ All that poor bastard’s hope.” He raised his eyes again, looking at me with some desperate need for understanding. An expression I had never seen on his face before. “I remember… getting the call to head to some lab in Cambridge to get that neurotrans-whatever. And the next thing I know, I’m in a trash heap, my family, my home, my entire life, gone. Then I discover, all those things… they weren’t even mine.” I felt the squeeze of his hand again, pushing down upon where mine still rested tight and unyielding to the curve of his arm. “Everything I ever was belonged to Nick. I’d hoped with Winter gone, the last hint of that old world snuffed out, I could finally be free.”

I suspected that this conversation might have been heading down the trajectory of a pity party, but Nick then raised his eyes towards me and smiled; alleviating my feelings on the matter entirely. He took my hand from his arm, cupped it now between both his own and held it soft and firm; distributing a little pat with the metallic claw that was somehow tender in spite of its appearance.

“But… being out here with you, what I finally realized after all this time was that taking down Winter; it wasn’t about Nick or Jenny or even you or me. It was about justice, about doing what’s right. And that act of goodness, that’s ours. All the good we’ve done. That’s ours and ours alone, my dear.” He came closer to me now and I felt that clawed hand cup to the side of my face. I couldn’t see his expression anymore because my eyes had blurred with tears again. Jesus, every fucking thing was making me emotional these days. “And even if that’s the only thing in this world I can _ever_ claim as mine, not Nick’s, not the Institute’s, but _mine,_ then I can die happy. And none of it would have ever happened if it weren’t for you, Evelyn. … I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to thank you for that.”

I took a moment to try and pull myself together. I didn’t cry from sadness but to hear someone speak of me with such gratitude and with such appreciation in their voice… I felt like I didn’t deserve it. Especially since it hadn’t been just me alone who had supported Nick with finding Eddie Winter.

“You don’t have to thank me, Nick.” I said, putting my hands to his chest and smiling up at him gently. “Everyone helped you find your way to Eddie Winter. It wasn’t just me.”

The joints in his clawed hand cinched in, so that his angular fingers held tighter to the curve of my cheek. “Heh, you can’t stop being noble, can you? Everyone came along, certainly. Once _you_ had agreed to help me. You helped me work out all the clues that led us to Eddie’s hideout. You’ve got quite an eye for the detective work, you know?”

I petted him again, reaching up and gently sliding one finger beneath my eye to catch a tear that was trying to work its way out. No doubt taking most of my eyeliner along for the ride as well. “You’re my friend, Nick. And more than that, you’re… you’re like a father to me. I would help you with anything you asked.”

“Well, that’s a fine thing to know.” He said his smile growing all the wider as he lowered his hand from my face and placed it now to my shoulder. “Because I was wondering whether you might like to keep at it. The detective work, I mean?”

I cocked my head at him; uncertain as to his meaning. “Are you suggesting that I… what? Come… work for you? At the agency?”

Nick took his hand from my shoulder and held his finger up as though halting someone in the midst of a burbling rant. “Not work _for_ me, Evelyn. Work _with_ me. You remember Ellie told you way back when that I was in need of a new partner? Well, the offer stands if you’re interested in taking it up on a permanent basis.” He continued to smile as he cuffed the side of my cheek affectionately. “And I certainly wouldn’t be offering the job to anyone that I didn’t trust to do a damn fine job of it. You’re strong, fit, compassionate and moral. Your literacy skills are better than just about anyone else’s I’ve run across in the Commonwealth and you’ve got a real knack for digging your nose into other people’s business; no offense intended.”

I wanted to laugh but my insides were still too churned up to make so much as a peep. I brought both hands to my mouth and pressed my fingers to my upper lip; trying to stop myself from trembling.

A job offer might seem like a terribly innocuous thing to get all bent out of shape about but keep in mind that I was at that present time officially unemployed. Well, I mean, I was a Railroad agent but this wasn’t a role that I planned on being involved with long term; not after I got Shaun out of the Institute of course. It would be too dangerous for me to continue my involvement and risk Shaun’s life or my own. I had made this clear to Desdemona when I first joined up and advised that she would always have my support but my duties as a Heavy would cease once Shaun was back with me. She accepted this and so my employment with them was a short-term contract.

Being a detective certainly wouldn’t mean that my life would be free of risk, of course. But that was impossible in this world. And I wanted to be employed and I certainly wanted to work somewhere that I was able to utilize the skills that I had and do some good that would help others out. Hey, if I couldn’t be a lawyer, I could at least still have some part in bringing the bad guys to justice.

It would mean security; having a job in the largest major settlement in the Commonwealth. And a steady income that wasn’t solely dependent on running the odd jobs here and there. It would challenge me both intellectually and physically. And I would be working side by side with Nick _,_ who I simply adored.

By offering me this job, Nick had effectively handed me my future. A future that would allow me to care for Shaun and give us both something of a life in this world. It might have served a need for Nick as well; having a new partner to help shoulder some of the workload but for him, I guess it killed two birds with one stone in this sense. And it was such a wonderful assertion to my ego, to be offered a job like this. That Nick, a voraciously intelligent, highly moral and courageous individual considered me, a clumsy, dopy, over-sensitive old trot, to be suited to this role… well, I was humbled to say the least.

When I finally got hold of my emotions, I lowered my hands and took a deep breath; thinking to ask him some very important questions before giving him an answer.

“Would I be required seven days a week? Because I’ll work as often as you need me.”

He actually laughed at my enthusiasm and looked to the ground, in a way that suggested I was being cute somehow.

“No, no. You’ve got a little boy that’ll be needing his Mom around occasionally. Five days a week, eight hour days standard, though some variations are to be expected, of course. Weekends off, though if a job comes in and I need you, I may have to call you in on down time. It’s just the nature of the work, I’m afraid.”

I gave a nod; understanding this completely. It wasn’t much different to what being a lawyer was like, anyway. You were nearly always on the clock; so long as you had a working telephone.

“Is wage, uh…” I gave a cheeky little smile, which he tolerated with a patient version of his own. “Dependent on the jobs?”

“Extra’s are.” He confirmed, raising both brows. “But the Mayors’ office substantiates with an hourly rate. Allows me to pay for whatever I may need to effectively conduct my work, pay bills, pay for Ellie’s secretarial duties, maintain upkeep on myself, etc. They decreased the amount allocated when Marty quit but I can negotiate the increase again, I’m certain. The agencies demands are consistently high and bringing on another partner can only help Diamond City as a whole. I’m sure I can get the Mayor to see eye to eye on that.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, but if anyone could make a stubborn body see reason, it would have to be Nick Valentine. “And the hourly rate?”

“Twenty-five caps per hour. I know that doesn’t seem like a lot but…”

I quickly did the maths in my head. Twenty-five caps per day, five days a week and eight hour days… That was roughly a thousand caps a week. About two hundred a day. Most folks here in the Commonwealth lived on a lot less. I could keep a house with that. Buy food, clothes, furniture, toys… bottle of wine for Mommy’s down time of a night. Pay bills and taxes, whatever. I still had my accommodation prospects to work out but…

I smiled brightly at Nick. “No, it sounds wonderful. Thankyou.” I leaned over and put my arms around his midsection, pulling him close to me. I wasn’t sure how else to express my gratitude for this wonderful gift he had offered me. A hug sure as hell didn’t seem enough. Maybe a bottle of Coolant or something? God knows. “I would love to take the job. Very much so. Thankyou, Nick.”

He gave me a pat on the back, chuckling a little. “Well… I _was_ going to suggest you think about it a little first. Maybe see how you felt after we visited Goodneighbor, perhaps?”

I eased back from the embrace, quirking a brow at him. I wasn’t sure if there was an intended insinuation there or not but if there was, I’m definitely sure I didn’t like it.

“Why would that factor into my decision any, Nick? I’m pretty sure I would feel the same way about a job before or after Goodneighbor.”

Nick flashed me a knowing smile. “Well, I wasn’t suggesting that your decision would be impacted by Goodneighbor specifically. More that you might feel differently after speaking with Hancock.”

Rather than feel more annoyed with him for his observations, I felt acutely more self-conscious; crossing my arms and glancing off to the side. I couldn’t help but smile a little; finding it kind of ironic that for all his supposed reservations about Hancock, Nick was the one being quite up front about something going on between the two of us.

“Next to Piper I thought you would be the… last person to encourage any of that, Nick.”

“It’s not about encouraging or discouraging, Evelyn. It’s about reality. And the reality is that Hancock cares for you and you him.” He glanced down towards the ground again; looking once more ashamed of himself. “I’m… not proud to admit that I doubted the sincerity of his intentions until very recently myself… But now I know for certain that he is genuine in what he feels for you. Perhaps more genuine than you allow yourself to believe.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely confused and more than a little intrigued by his suggestion.

Nick sighed, rubbing a hand the back of his neck; an almost stereotype gesture of awkwardness. “Far be it from me to bring up what might be the… the worst time of any of our lives…” Oh God, I knew what he was referring to now. And fucked if I wanted to remember any of those terrible days in any detail. “But back at the Rolling Ranch… after what they did to him…” A tear escaped down my cheek as I pinched my eyes shut; trying to blot out those horrendous images before they could resurface but finding it as impossible as ever. The thick raw cuts that opened up on John’s back like awning mouths, the water vomiting from his lungs and stomach, the explosion of the bullet leaving the gun… The moment I so very nearly lost my mind; felt it near snap apart in the light of the flash from that muzzle. “Hancock was so damn certain he was going to die that he… he made me promise him something. Something which proved to me beyond doubt of what you meant to him.”

“Which was?” I whispered, almost too softly for me to be able to hear myself, let alone for him to pick up on it. Somehow, Nick managed to discern my words however, though he didn’t look at all pleased at the prospect of answering them and continued to glance away; bringing his lips into a tight, uncertain purse.

“It’s not, uh… it’s not for me to say...”

“Nick, please…”

“I can’t.” He insisted, giving me a firm look now. Serious beyond anything I had ever seen before. “And it’s not because you don’t deserve to know, it’s because Hancock deserves to be the one to tell you. All I can say is that it proved beyond doubt to me that he truly was a decent man; regardless of any of the minor reservations I had about his Chem use or… vigilante methods or whatnot.” He titled his head towards me now; peered from beneath his brow and enquired my honesty. “The question is, and I imagine it is one you have probably asked yourself a hundred times by now; how do _you_ feel about him? Because there’s no point if it’s a one way street. And I don’t think he would thank you for pretending to care for him out of ingratiation.”

My shoulders curled upwards in a shrug and I fought to speak; to acknowledge my feelings for John without feeling as though I was bringing that hammer down on another nail in Nate’s coffin each time I broached the topic. “I… I love him, I think…”

He smiled at me patiently. “Sounds like you’re stalling with your own feelings.”

I huffed a little, tearful but managing a smile all the same. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am… But isn’t it obvious that we care for each other? That we love each other? Is there any other way to interpret what the two of us have?”

“Not so far as I know.” Nick said, with a kind shake of his head. “And I can’t imagine anyone else here could possibly see it any other way. But feeling a certain way shouldn’t obligate you to _act_ upon it, if you aren’t ready.”

“Honestly Nick…” I said, my features scrunching up so that the healing bruises on my face throbbed angrily under duress. “I don’t know what the hell is gonna happen when I walk in that gate. I don’t _know._ ”

Nick didn’t sugar coat it to try and support me in maintaining some thin sliver of deceit. Much to his usual standard, he gave it to me; straight up. “He may invite you to share a life together. Which is what you must consider before accepting a job with me. _That_ is what I was getting at before.”

“Nick…” It was my turn to be firm with him now. “Regardless of what might happen between Hancock and myself, it wouldn’t change my desire to take up a job with you.”

Nick pressed his fingertips together and then branched them apart; as though he needed to try to spell everything out for me to make a fully informed decision. “If you and Hancock start a relationship, I doubt you would ever have to worry about accommodation or finances ever again. He’s the second wealthiest individual in the entire Commonwealth. You’d have every security and equity available on demand.”

“Working is not just about money, Nick. It’s about self-worth and respect. About taking pride in what you do and helping others out.” I crossed my arms again, shuffling on my feet and thinking back so long ago to that conversation I once had with Xavier. Jesus, is that all that men thought that women were after? Money, a roof over their heads and shiny trinkets? Was it so unbelievably that we might actually _want_ to work because we genuinely enjoy and derive satisfaction from it? “I mean, don’t get me wrong; I’m not a saint. It would be nice to not ever have to worry about money again. But that’s not the reason I would choose to be with John; his money matters jack shit to me. And I would work regardless of whether I had the option of… I don’t know, swimming in an inflatable pool full of caps or something. I love working and I love being busy. I’ve never been a kept woman in my life and I don’t intend to start. Regardless of what happens between Hancock and I.”

Nick smiled, seeming to understand very well where I was coming from as he reached over to pat the back of my hand. “Well, all right. I meant no offense, I just… wanted to have the discussion with you first. If you’re still keen on the job, I can arrange to have the paperwork sorted when we visit Diamond City.”

“We’ll pop in after we leave Goodneighbor. I assume that no one will protest too much if we stay here for Christmas?”

Nick offered such a soft and genuine looking smile. “It’ll be nice to have everyone together for the holiday season, for sure.” He gave the back of my hand another squeeze. “Anyway, thanks for listening. And if you ever need me to lend an ear, I’ll be there.”

“I appreciate it. And you’re welcome.” I gave him another quick, brief hug before sucking in the deepest breath my lungs could manage. I stuck a smile to my face that felt about as fake as my hair color, though would hopefully fool folks just as well. (Or perhaps better, if truth be told). “Hoo boy… I can’t believe how fucking nervous I am…”

Nick chuckled and gave my back a little rub. “You’ll be fine. Don’t forget that Hancock wouldn’t harm you in a blue fit. Just be honest with him and I’m certain he will respect your needs. You just keep things moving at the pace that suits you best, okay?”

“Thanks Nick.” I said, smiling at him and hoping he knew how grateful I was; not just for these sweet words but for everything else asides. Turning back towards the others, I steeled my loins as much as possible before sauntering over the join them; affecting a confidence that I definitely wasn’t feeling. “Well… shall we head on inside?”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice. I’m fucking dying for a beer.” Cait snorted, giving her corset another little jostle before reaching out with both hands to push open the mostly ajar door into Goodneighbor. She swept inside as though entering the Taj Mahal with a famous entourage. I followed on in her wake, pausing not two feet inside and feeling my jaw drop for realizing just how out of touch with everything I had been.

I gave a small laugh as I looked around first at the green and red lights stretched across the side of the State house, at the tinsel and star shaped decorations hanging from the store fronts. One of the Watchmen (Frank, I think?) had pulled a raggedy old Santa hat down over the top of his Fedora and the white bauble was bouncing around in front of his face every time he turned his head. One of the other guards had baubles hanging from his machine gun. Daisy had a number of reindeer decals affixed to the border of her store; some of which were missing heads or were damaged in some way but the sentiment for the old days was still obvious.

The second thing that I observed was how much cleaner everything was. The signs had all been done up across the storefronts, so they looked to be in ‘like-new’ condition. Some of the until now unassigned stones cluttering up the entrance had been converted into descending twin walls; which steered newcomers into the town proper. All the garbage and clutter had been removed so that you were now actually able to see into the corners of the surrounding shops and the Statehouse itself. The once noticeable smell of ammonia and urine was noticeably absent.

On the left hand side, a shed had been constructed that was clearly in use by some of the Neighborhood watch to store arms, food items and various supplies during the day. To the left, there was a raised stall just past the stone border; behind which was perched a Neighborhood Watchmen that I recognized as Vinnie. A Ghoul in possession of particularly dark skin and a very fast paced, near anxious approach to most things. This wasn’t alleviated any by the almost overwhelmingly large crowd of males that we suddenly found ourselves squaring off against. Goodneighbor looked to be hosting quite a few more people than usual and though there were some faces I recognized, most were unfamiliar to me.

I turned to the others, most of whom looked just as surprised as I did and could barely keep the smile off of my face, which I directed specifically towards Piper. “Well, looks like _someone_ might have lived up to his word after all.”

“Yep.” Piper drawled, looking substantially less impressed than I did. Her opinion of Goodneighbor had never been very positive and I guess it would take more than a sprinkling of holiday spirit and a good sweeping to change that. “It’s amazing what a little slap of lipstick and rouge can do for an old whore. Even a whore that’s been dragged through the gutter as many times as Goodneighbor has.”

I gave her a little look, feeling as usual that she was being stubborn in her efforts to not give Goodneighbor a fair shake. I mean, sure the town had a reputation but a scratch beneath the surface was all it took to see that the people were a decent bunch…those that weren’t trying to mug you and turn your kidney’s into pincushions during the attempt, that is.

“Piper, be nice. The place has clearly turned over a new leaf. I mean, look at Frank and his cute little Santa hat over there. How sweet is that?” I gestured to Frank and instantly regretted it as the Watchmen reached under his hat and pulled out a Jet inhaler. He saw me pointing and gave a light wave as he huffed the fumes back with the contented expression of an addict getting their hit. Piper raised her brows at me, clearly feeling that her point had been proven. “Yeah… well… Christmas can be a tough time for some folks.” I said defensively.

“Too right,” Cait agreed, leaning her back up against the support rickets of the front gate and pushing her chest out in the process. Her breasts pressed taught to the tight buttons of her corset, drawing the attention of every Watchmen in the area. Nice to know they had their eye on the things they liked at least. “Don’t know how I’m going to be getting through this holiday sober… it’ll be the first time in a long time. I mean, s’all right if I still throw back a pint and all, ay Eve?”

I gave a careless roll of my shoulder, wondering why she felt the need to defer to me for permission. Giving up the chems had been her idea after all; I’d just supported her through the process. “Honey, I ain’t your mama. You wanna drink, you grab a drink. Not like I should be judging.”

“Given how much you enjoy the tipple yourself, mum, I find that rather generous,” Codsworth murmured as he floated just far enough out of range that I couldn’t smack him with my arm. It was a fair call though, so I instead responded with a light hearted shrug, too exhausted from the haul back from the Mercer safe house to put any considerable effort into pursuing him.

“That _is_ what I meant, thankyou Codsworth. Anyhow, I guess I’m just a little surprised to see that the holidays are still celebrated in the Commonwealth.”

“Well, why wouldn’t we celebrate them?” Piper said, looking a little offended. Over her shoulder, I could see Vinnie snapping his fingers towards Nick impatiently; requesting that the Synth pass up his weapons for inspection. “Given that every other day is a haul through hell with the weight of the world strapped to our shoulders and demons hanging off of our ankles; we take our holidays really seriously. It’s a good way to take the edge of.”

“Hun, I didn’t mean to suggest anything by it,” I said, though I knew Piper well enough by now to know that she wasn’t inherently serious in taking offense from me. She knew I was about as harmless as an overripe Tato. “Suppose I just figured that life was so difficult that you guys might have seen the traditional holidays as a little… frivolous, maybe? I guess it’s the fact that Goodneighbor is celebrating it that really surprises me. I figured they’d think it was too lame or… too much effort.”

“Actually, it’s one of the few settlements in the Commonwealth that puts any effort at all into celebrating.” Nick stated, trying to pass all our weapons up one by one to Vinnie, whilst at the same time shooting dissuading looks at all the men trying to get close enough to have a chat with Cait. He had a tendency to act as a deterrent against unwelcome behaviour by stationing himself beside the women of the group specifically. I’m not sure Cait entirely appreciated the sentiment, as leaving her corset loose had been purely by design. Sure enough, she flashed him an annoyed look, the kind a teenage girl might give her father if he had shown up to chaperone her at the prom. He naturally ignored it and continued his conversation with me instead as I put my bag down and dragged out my .44 for inspection. “I mean, Diamond City likes to put up some lights and decorations but they don’t really do anything to celebrate per say. I guess Hancock really just wants to give back some of that old time feeling to the people here.”

I nodded sagely to myself as I passed over my gun, taking a moment then to distribute a pat to the top of Dogmeat’s head. He had been rubbing against my leg for the past few minutes, persistent in his need to be acknowledged. “Makes sense, I guess. The drifters that end up in Goodneighbor are almost completely disenfranchised… Giving them something to celebrate could only help give them something back. Even if it’s just a distraction from life’s troubles.”

“Sounds like Hancock,” Nick mumbled and as usual I couldn’t tell if this was a compliment or a criticism for the Ghoul’s character.

“Oh, any excuse for a party too, I’m sure.” I said, holding up my thumb and pinky finger and emulating inhaling on the tip of my thumb. Cait immediately burst out laughing, apparently unfamiliar with this gesture.

“What the hell does _that_ even mean?” She cackled, making the same symbol with her hand and holding it up with her palm facing towards me. “What, is he partying so hard that he would… what? Suck the devils horns, or something?”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “No, back in the day we made this gesture to indicate a person who was getting stoned. We had all the same drugs that you guys do now but we also had one called ‘Marijuana’. People used to make what we called ‘bongs’, which had a tube on the end and they’d burn the pot and smoke it. Kinda like Chark actually.”

Piper coked her head to the side inquisitively, one dark brow arching up towards the brim of her hat. “Hold on there a second, Blue… is it Pot or Mari- whatever you called it? Are they supposed to be the same thing?”

“There were a few different names for it,” I confirmed, dropping my duffle bag down on the ground and swirling my left arm around in the socket to try and ease some of the restriction there. Warm weather always caused the joints to act up.

“Why yes, I in fact familiarized myself with a number of them so that I might provide deterrent support for young Shaun once he grew up,” Codsworth contributed as he floated up beside me. The exhaust from beneath his chasis caused the air around him to heat up and it felt stifling and uncomfortable to stand so close. “Let’s see now… there was weed, of couse… grass, Mexican lawn clippings, Ganga, dope, Mary Jane, Stinkweed, Skunk, reefer, Acapulco Gold, nuggets, joints-”

I placed my fingers gently against his metal plated side and gave him a slight push so that he was re-directed off to the left of me and hopefully also, from his little lecture. “I don’t think they asked for an education on the subject Codsworth darling but thankyou all the same.”

Piper waved a hand at me, giving a secretive smile as though she were in on something. “Actually, I find it all rather interesting, Blue. Doesn’t sound like much of a party chem if it made you relax though. What did folks do? Just… stick this stuff inside one of these ‘bongs’ and inhaled the fumes and then just sit around staring at one another?”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” I responded in an overtly dignified air, which of course only made them all laugh at me. I gave a secretive little smile and tapped the side of my nose. “Really now, Piper. You know that I’m a good girl. I’d _never_ do anything like that.”

“Is that right? This must be a different girl from the one I know then.” Came a familiar voice from right beside me. I turned to face the interjection, my heart speeding up at the gravelly tone but deflating almost instantly to see that it was another of the Neighborhood Watch Ghoul’s; a chap by the name of Carmine.

I chuckled and shrugged my shoulders guiltily. “Come on, darl. You only ever saw me acting up like… the once?”

He gave a laugh and cocked his head as his chuckles suddenly elevated further; as though his memories were overwhelming him. “That’s true. Though who could blame ya, after running around the town dressed as the Silver Shroud?”

“Did you really need to remind me about that?” I groaned, trying to be polite but struggling to keep my focus on the conversation. I was panning about the crowd with my eyes; trying to catch sight of that signature red coat… or maybe just the hat. Yeah, he wasn’t likely to be wearing his coat, not in this weather, surely? Though who knew with Hancock…

“Ha, you ain’t living _that_ shit down, Munch. It’s good ta see you again though. Boss’s gonna flip when he lays eyes on you lookin’ all pretty like that.”

My smile felt a lot more natural now; but then that’s easy when a genuine compliment’s been thrown my way. “Aww… cheers, hun. That’s just what I needed to hear.” I said, accepting a hug that he had clearly been angling for since drifting up. Like a typical Goodneighbor male, he squeezed in way too hard against my breasts and remained there a good while longer than necessary; sighing and snuggling. I loosed my own sigh; appealing to the others for help with my eyes but receiving none in return. Piper was fighting her own battle against some of the more amorous males, Cait was flirting away contentedly (no doubt wrangling herself a date for the fete the following night), Curie was almost invisible in the mosh pit of admirers surrounding her, whilst Deacon, MacCready, Codsworth and Nick all remained un-accosted and able to work with Vinnie to check in weapons and details. Dogmeat didn’t even look the least bit interested in helping. He just proffered up a massive yawn when I stared down at him pointedly.

Carmine finally released me, giving a satisfied little sigh and a wink as he backed away. “Man… as if the boss wasn’t lucky enough already. I’ll talk to ya later Munchkin, eh?”

I smiled at him as he stepped away, drifting over to join the throng of curious males surrounding Curie. I continued my search around the crowd, wondering to myself where Meyer had gone. He had entered in through the gate ahead of us but now he was nowhere to be seen. I couldn’t identify any of the standout faces either, such as Adrian and Fahrenheit, so it was a little disorienting. At least I could be certain from everyone’s words that John was safe and well and no doubt floating around here somewhere.

I saw a flash of blue in the crowd and recognized the Hubflowers in Meyer’s basket. He was standing near Daisy’s Discount’s and I could see his finger pointed in my direction. I went to wave to him, thinking he might have been trying to gesture to me, when I realized that he had been pointing me out to someone.

Sure enough, there he was. John Hancock. Mayor of Goodneighbor; standing, oh so casual like, with his arms crossed and an infuriatingly relaxed look on his face. He had dispensed with his red jacket and blue waistcoat and was instead wearing a clean white shirt; unbuttoned halfway down the chest as per his standard. His eyes aligned with my own and he gave his usual, lovely smile as he offered a slight wave of his hand; playing it hard, I think, at being cool.

My heart lifted at the sight of him and I felt my mouth twist upward to form what was no doubt an absolutely stupid looking goober of a grin; my chest warm and heart thumping. I beamed at him; feeling awash with adoration and relief. He looked well and whole and healthy; though perhaps the slightest bit thinner than last I had seen him. But he looked handsome, I thought and considered how ironic it was that for having frightened me the once, his appearance now made me so happy and contented.

I called his name, though it was swallowed up by the chattering, inane carry on of the crowd around us. His smile dropped a little, straightened to form a serious line. His arms uncrossed and lowered towards his sides, as if he were preparing something. He started at me; almost expectantly. Even at this distance, I could see the shimmer of his eyes.

It occurred to me, right there in that moment, that none of this was complicated. When I looked at him, all I felt was the overwhelming, irrepressible urge to be with him. To press myself wholly and completely into his embrace and by absorbed by the warmth of his body. To feel his warm breath on my ear, the press of his hands into the curves of my spine, his lips on my cheeks and wherever else he meant to place them. To have his love and return it in full if, please God, that was truly the depth of his feelings for me.

Being apart had been much easier than being this close. This tiny distance between us now was monstrous; it sent sickening curdles through my stomach. I needed to close it. What would happen once I had, I wasn’t even sure but I had a very good idea of what and I could only hope and pray that I wasn’t about to make an enormous fucking idiot out of myself.

Judging from the look on Hancock’s face however, that didn’t seem incredibly likely. His was an expression poise between any number of tiny, _enormous_ feelings; each fighting to take precedence on the surface but not a one winning out entirely. The waver of a smile; pleasure in seeing me once again. Pushed aside all too quickly by the curling of his lower lip; overwhelmed by what it meant to be here, standing across the courtyard from each other. Eyes shining, cheek pinching up, all muscles suddenly falling lax by the inward pull of his brows; an expression I can only describe as… relief, I think? For he too had recognized something in the quagmire of my own face; something that spoke to him of the feelings that were running rampant beneath. That they danced to the same rhythm of his own, followed along at the curve of the mirrors edge and corresponding without the least hesitance.

For the first time I think he knew full well and without doubt just how intensely I cared for him. He looked weak from it, as though he might have even staggered back in order to press his shoulder to the wall of _Daisy’s Discount’s_ so as to force himself to keep standing.

His mouth formed my name… my actual name, not the nickname that he was so fond of calling me. It cut past me like scissor blades, effectively severing every remaining tie that held me back from him. I felt lighter in an instant; as though my arms and limbs had been contorted to the sides of my body, which had in turn been secured to a tether as unyielding as the trunk of a tree.

And though I’d had every intention of approaching him a cool, calm and unaffected manner; I found myself instead surging forward like some dopey chick in an old movie, racing through the fog in the railway station towards the silhouette of her fedora donned lover. Which might have been more charming mind, if I wasn’t already as clumsy as a drunk bear and a little tiddly on two-hundred year old scotch to begin with. I actually managed to bash my shoulder into the pylon of the courtyard barrier before realizing I needed to straighten up, though I barely felt the pain from the impact. I had made my move and this was all that Hancock needed it seemed to start making his way towards me. Not that he was any more graceful mind; his leg was clearly still hurting him and he was forced to kind of pitch and swing his hip forward to get the kind of momentum going that he clearly desired. Seeing this made want to reach him all the faster. To hold him and soothe him; to press my palms against his skin and ease the aches and pains that throbbed beneath. My eyes welled to see him limping like that; at the memory of how he had received that injury in the first instance and the terrible, overwhelming fear I had experienced, thinking that I might have lost him forever.

“Oh, John…” I blubbered as I squeezed myself around yet another person I didn’t recognize. Most of the folks were doing well and good to move out of Hancock’s way as he came towards me, but one or two were still a little slower off the mark. The remaining few skittered like fallen leaves as Hancock flapped his arm at them irritably, shooting off a slight admonishing frown to boot.

“Get out of her ‘effing way, would you?” He sort of scolded; for the emotion in his voice didn’t quite match his words. His tone was as raw as my own had been; cracking at the edges, with the crease of his eyes further evidencing his feelings. I can’t imagine any of the malingerer’s took offence and if they did, neither of us were slowing down enough to pay it mind.

I crashed into him with near enough force to drive him backwards onto the heels of his feet. I was sobbing, though why I’m not sure because I can’t recall a time I had ever felt such joy or relief to see someone again. My emotions, as usual, had a mind very much their own.

Hancock went with it, wrenching me up and hard against the firm wall of his body; leaving the tips of my toes in contact with the ground and nothing else. I buried my face into the wall of shirt, then quickly changed direction and moved it to the column of his neck; concerned that I would leave makeup all over the material from my sweaty skin and wet eyes. His arm wrapped my shoulders as a firm comforting barrier, the other cinched tightly to the wall of my back, pressing so hard I thought he meant to shatter my spine beneath the pressure. I wrapped my own around his neck, one under his arm and clasped the back of his shirt in my hand. I pulled it tight, feeling as though if I were to let go he would be pulled away from me again – as though a current would drag him out to sea. I couldn’t seem to stop blubbering.

“I missed you darlin’… I missed you so goddamn _much._ ” He whispered into my ear and I sobbed louder for the courage of his admission, turning the mottled flesh of his neck ever the more damp beneath my eyes. I was leaving trails of black makeup behind, which were matting into the tears of his skin. I breathed him in; the strong scent of his cologne, the one that I liked. Had he put this on for _me_ , I wondered? Or was this presumptuous of me to find any hidden meaning in what was most likely just a coincidence?

No… my insecurities couldn’t keep trying to convince me otherwise anymore. I could feel his desire for me; the taut awareness of every muscle beneath his skin, the more subtle yet entirely orchestrated little gestures. His palm caressed my back; up and down and back and forth. Feeling me as much as I was feeling him. I pressed harder and further to the wall of his chest; felt his lungs rise and fall to match the heated rhythm of my own, the press of his thighs and pelvis. Not a gap of daylight could have found its way between us. We were no longer two separate people but one great blubbery, groping organism; absorbed by one another entirely.

“I missed _you._ ” I sobbed, pressing my lips to his neck. Kissing him, very clearly, very deliberately. I felt the murmur in his throat, the soft, hopeful moan as a vibration which passed into my own body through the columns of my lips. There was a lot more I wanted to say but none of it seemed fitted for the moment; not at all. For once we weren’t laughing and joking and deferring from the topic. We just needed a moment in which to take one another seriously; to permit the full weight of our intensely heavy emotions. These spoke words enough for any number of things that might have otherwise passed between us and said so much more besides.

I kept pressing kisses to his neck, pushing my forehead against his cheek as I brought my hand around to cup the other side of his face. I felt the furrows there, traced my fingertips down through them and brushed my thumb over the ridges where they peaked beneath his flesh. My heart hammered like a jackrabbit’s.

His hand came up to cup against my own cheek; thumb stroking once briefly over my lips before his fingers pushed back to tangle and hook into the hair behind my ears. He pressed his forehead to mine, using it to lift my head so that his eyes met my own; half lidded yet thick with desire. I could hear the huffs of his breath, feel the warmth of each exhalation against my lips. I could smell the cigarettes he had been smoking and the hint of beer. He could no doubt smell the scotch on my own. This small detail of how close we were to observe such things was intensely erotic. 

 _‘Oh God, just kiss me already’_. I nearly said it out loud but I stopped myself at the last possible moment. No, this shit had to _stop_. I couldn’t keep putting all the responsibility on him to act, not when it was _my_ boundaries that were so clearly keeping him at bay. He was too noble to impose himself on me, not before I was ready. It had to be _me_ who took that first step, who pulled down all those walls I had constructed around my heart and pull him in over the threshold.

I looked him in the eyes, felt the resultant surge of love and affection I had for this man and it was more than enough to obliterate the last of my reservations. I slid my arm around his neck, pushed myself in tighter still and kissed him.

He moaned, so deep and sexy that it blasted little pulses of pain through my stomach and rent a tightening flutter through my groin. His hand in my hair was gentle still as he kissed me back; his hand cupping about my shoulder as he kept me cossetted to his chest. I wondered why I ever had the slightest doubt as to whether he might have returned my affections or not? For it was clear to me that John was responding with all the verve and desire of someone who had been holding back considerably and was now making up for lost time. His lips weren’t as full as those of a Smoothskin man but this was natural, given the intense scarification around his mouth. Though this in no way detracted from his obvious skill in the area. Good _god_ this man could kiss.

It was like he was breathing me into him, as I in turn tried to pull him back into myself. I felt the gentle caress of my lower lip between both his own; the slight break as he parted and then claimed my upper lip instead. I gripped his own, pulled and tugged a little with my teeth. His thumb brushed my ear, his fingers softly grazing across the back of my neck; such a tender contradiction to the heated movement between our mouths.

I had never experienced a kiss like this before. Not on my wedding day, not even on my Honeymoon. Nothing could match the intensity of this hunger we had accumulated for one another; these compartmentalized impulses tempered and quashed down time and time again. Falling for one another so naturally, yet exacerbated further by the hundreds of near death situations we had found ourselves in time and time again. It had heightened the intensity of that little ember to a roaring torrent, blazing higher still with the oxygen we fed it through the connection of our lips.

I needed to draw breath, for I was starting to feel a little dizzy and I dropped my lower lip just enough to suck in a gasp of air. Hancock used the opening to slide his tongue over into my mouth and lightly touch to my own, sending another little shiver down through my spine and into the backs of my legs. He paused the movement of the kiss, cupping my jaw, grazing my cheek with his thumb and moving the tip of his tongue over my lower lip, giving me the choice to further accommodate it if I so chose. I touched it again with my own, brought our open mouths together and whimpered to feel him plunder further inside; the both us moaning and sighing as our kiss deepened further. I had the barest passing thought for the people around us, but it streaked out of sight just as soon as it had occurred to me. Nothing could matter so much as this moment, right here with him. This perfect kiss, delayed far too long.

I gripped him tighter to me still, clawed and clasped the muscles of his back as they shifted beneath his shirt. I cupped the back of his neck, caressed the mottled skin there, which reminded me beyond doubt of who I was with. Our lips parted softly, came together again; warm and loving and desperate all in the same motion. I thought of the nights we had spent side by side, laughing and joking or comforting where needed. My dear friend, my _rock_ in this transient wild world. This kiss was not simply an expression of two people attracted to one another but an encapsulation of our intense adoration and need for the companionship that we shared.

We parted finally after… god only knows how long. He didn’t release me, didn’t even adjust his grip enough to allow my feet to fall even with the ground. He pressed his forehead to mine; took in a slow, shaky breath that was so out of character it made me chuckle. He kissed then the bridge of my nose, then the space between my eyes. His hand gripped my cheek still, fingers tucking a few strands behind my ears. Absorbed in me and I with him. I traced his lower lip with my thumb, brushed the backs of my fingers over his torn and sore looking cheek. I snorted when I saw that his mouth was smeared all over with my lipstick; most of which was probably dotted across my face as well from where he had just kissed me.

It was all so serious, I felt like I needed to say something now… I wasn’t even sure _what_ was going to come out exactly but I went with the first thing that came to mind.

“So, um… you ever thought about us as maybe more than… just friends?”

He snorted lightly, a smile finally appearing on his face and he gave me such a beautiful look then; so affectionate and ironic in the same gesture. He clucked his fingers to the scar on my chin.

“Heh… it that obvious?”

 

**~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Greetings again, my dear darlings! It was a very long convoluted chapter sorry but I do hope you guys enjoyed all the same! I am hyped to start writing up the next chapter now that these two finally got their silly asses in gear and smooched it up a bit.
> 
> Only a couple of notes for this chapter:  
> 1.) Post-natal depression: In case I didn’t spell it out enough, Eve suffered from very severe post-natal depression, which sent her significantly off of the rails for a while. There were a number of complications concerning her pregnancy and even if there are not, not every woman is able to bond with her child the way that all the diaper adds seem to suggest they do. Women are under a lot of pressure to act a certain way, especially when it comes to motherhood but not everything is so cut and dry and not every woman is entirely natural at being a mother. Even those who are very natural at nurturing, such as Eve.
> 
> 2.) Makeup: I know it might seem a bit off putting for a female character to be concerning themselves with makeup but there is a good reason for it. Namely, that I find it normal. I’m very sick of television shows presenting stereotyped ‘beautiful’ female characters, who are clearly made up, with perfect hair and make up that is intended to make them look ‘naturally’ beautiful. All women look beautiful to the people that love them, it’s true. But very few of us look the way that these people look when we go about natural and I’m not interested in pretending otherwise. If Eve wants to look good, she goes through the effort; like any one of us would. How on earth would she be relatable if I tried to sell you to her as a raging natural beauty? FYI, I’m not saying there is anything wrong with the natural look. All us gals are beautiful, regardless of what we put on our faces. Eve’s just a normal gal, who uses makeup to make herself feel better about her appearance. Same as some of us would, I’m sure.
> 
> And that’s pretty much it folks! Feel free to kudos, comment, drop me a line, write a sonnet to celebrate whatever takes your fancy. Always appreciated and advice is always accommodated and usually well received. So long as it’s not blatant, uncensored abuse because then I just curl up in a foetal position around a tub of peanut butter ice-cream and cry and dribble whilst I take turns shoving in spoonfuls and washing it down with wine. But to be fair, this is what I would be doing regardless of whether I had been abused on the Internet or not. Typical Friday night, really.
> 
> Take care all my dear and lovely darlings and I look forward to seeing you in the next chapter! Now, I must simply pay the husband some attention, since he is apparently so insistent on showing me cute animal videos on the internet. And people miming things for no better reason other than the fact they are bored. The things a spouse must do!
> 
> All my love  
> ~ MadamMortis~ xxx ooo


	9. The Missing Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In my embrace, I attempted to convey all my jumbled, knotted feelings to her. 'How I’ve missed you, my darling… how I’ve longed for you, how I’ve loved you, needed you, wanted you… How consumed I am by my desire to have you in every corner of my vision; from the rise of the morning sun, to the fading close of the lights last breath in the evening… '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I owe a huge apology for my epic delay in delivering these... well, chapters. All I can say is that a lot of stuff happened in the previous month, including some pretty hectic stuff with my husbands family that required a great deal of support and attention. Not to mention my hubby went absolutely effing manic on Ark Survival and was playing like mad with a couple of friends of his for hours at a time. Made it very difficult to extract the laptop from him.
> 
> I am desperately sad too because I did so much wish to have at least one of these chapters out before Christmas; being that this story IS set around Christmas time and all. But it simply wasn't meant to be. I didn't want to rush it too much and risk the quality being sublimely crap, simply for the fact of having it out at a certain time. It was annoying but a sacrifice I needed to make.
> 
> As it stands, these two chapters were in fact originally one. It was insanely long, way too long to justify being one chapter all on its lonesome. So I am posting it in two parts. At the same time however, to make up for having missed out on a chapter for November. Catching up for the win! There's not a great deal of excitement in this chapter; at least, not the adventuring blood and guts sort of excitement. But there is a bit of kissing. And uh... more than a bit of kissing in the second part. Another reason it took so long. I get shy writing those sorts of scenes and need to stop and have a drink occasionally. 
> 
> Oh and a shout out to my very patient husband who answered all my questions concerning the male anatomy and all its various darling idiosyncrasies. And who somehow nearly took me seriously during my interrogation. 
> 
> And thankyou again to everyone for your patience. For reading, for commenting, for kudo-ing and for simply being the amazing, wonderful Fallout loving darlings that you are :) I'm sorry that I could not catch you all for Christmas but I do hope that you all had the most wonderful amazing time and that you also have a ripper of a New Years Eve! These chapters shall be my two gifts to you!
> 
> Warnings are as such: The usual adult language, some triggering conversations potentially and quite a bit of fluffiness. Be alert but not alarmed and I shall see you on the other side! xxx ooo

> _“A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.” ~ **Ingrid Bergman.**_

****

** John Hancock **

**_Goodneighbor – Current Day…_ **

**~**

_Thank Christ…_

_Thank fucking…_ Christ _._

If my leg was in any state to endure it, (and if Dogmeat wasn’t currently trying to remove it) I could have leapt for joy. Slugged the air, turned cartwheels, whooped and carried on like a drunken teenager strung out on Jet and the pure natural high of first love. Honestly, it took everything within my willpower to tamper the urge down or risk looking a bigger fool than I already did. Whether that was possible or not.

She’d kissed me. She had _actually_ fucking kissed me. After all this time; this interminable year of longing and lust and desperation, I had thought for certain that it would be _me_ that would find myself unable to endure it. Me that would eventually drive my intentions home, sweep her up into my arms and take her breath away; whether she was prepared to be absolved of it or not.

Never could I have dared to imagine in all my myriad of fantasies that it would be her that would make the first move. She had every reason in the world not to. I was too old, too ugly, too soiled. I’d been with too many people and cared for less than half of them. I was a coward who ran from everything, cherished little and quaffed Chems so as to keep the world and all its terrible, aching barbs of feeling at bay.

She deserved so much better than what I had to offer. I knew this. Had felt it more and more strongly and pervasively with each passing day. If I’d been half the man that she deserved, I would have put a great deal more distance between us; so as to protect her from developing these feelings. Given her a shot at a better life, with a better man.

But I’m sure as shit no saint. Only a saint could love someone so much and then push them away for their own good. And besides, wouldn’t it be arrogant to assume that a woman can’t know her own mind and heart? Have enough common sense to trust in her own feelings and decisions? Eve clearly did. She knew enough about me to inform her choices; was smart enough to understand that a relationship with me, let alone a life together, would be fraught with difficulties and danger. That to look into my eyes would be akin to staring into the cold void of endless night. That my skin would be ragged, torn and unpalatable beneath the palms of her hands.

And yet, in spite of all this she had chosen me. By kissing me, she had chosen me to be deserving of her love, her life. Trusted me in safe guarding her gentle, still broken and aching heart.

I felt weak with gratitude. A strange feeling perhaps, unfamiliar to me and yet so appropriate in the context of love. That Eve could put herself on the line like this. Risk her heart, her life, her emotional and physical stability in this world to be with me…

I fail to recall a time in my life where I felt as purely ecstatic as I did in that moment. To see her again and to hold her in my arms would have been more than enough but to kiss me as well…

I could still feel the touch of her lips on my throat; that sweet brush which rent a soft moan of yearning from inside of my chest. My heart had hammered, my adrenaline spiked through each of my nerves. The sweetest and most painful spot to hang suspended; on the precipice of what might be.

There was no hesitation in her kiss. I could feel the full force of her commitment in the pressure and warmth of her lips; the tight curl of her arms about me and the tangled grip of her fingers in my shirt. We might have swallowed one another, our passion was so intense. I wished that we could press bare skin to skin; so that we could feel the full contours of one another, the intensity that comes with the uncensored contact of the flesh.

It was hardly surprising that my mind immediately went to such places. As my hand had stroked the lines of her back, I quickly realized that she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath her top. I was accustomed to happening upon that familiar buckled ridge when my palm moved across her spine; during a dance or an embrace of some nature. I figured that this was why she was wearing that flannel shirt tied up tight about her midsection; on a day when it was far too hot to be bothering with such unnecessary embellishments. I guess she was attempting to both support her breasts and keep them from being seen through the thin white material of her top.

And because she was kissing me, I found myself more excited by the nature of this discovery than I might otherwise have been. I became very aware of her tits; unconfined and soft and pressing tight to my own chest. I wanted to slide my hand up underneath her top and caress that long, smooth unbroken line of her back. Glide my fingertip through the dip of her spine from top to bottom, ease my palm about and brush my thumb to the side of her breast. My mouth flushed with saliva; the way it might when I craved a hit, as it occurred to me that all these fantasies I had long since entertained, were now possible. All these things I _wanted_ … my God, I could _have_ them. If Eve had a mind to accept more from me than my kiss, of course.

And so much more besides. I felt in that moment my world snap, stretch and open up; the horizon blinking out to the eternal as I held her in my arms. This wonderful woman offered _so_ much more to me than just her body. I beheld with greater clarity than I had ever possessed, the life that we could give to one another. Meals shared, nights spent deep in conversation and laughter, afternoons walking with arms pressed to waists and shoulders – watching the world about us expand and grow under my guidance and her sweet, nurturing soul.

It all seemed too good to be true; I was so blissfully happy that I almost couldn’t believe what was happening. I looked at her, reassured myself that yes, she was here. She was home, with me and safe once more in my embrace. Her eyes were half lidded in her own contentment and so very close that I could see the thickness of her painted lashes. Her lipstick was smeared from our kiss but not enough to detract from that lovely bowed shape of her perpetually smiling mouth. Her hair looked a little damp; the ends curling against her temples and the back of her neck, sticking straight up from the crown like the backside of the little duck I had met earlier.

She was so brown and tanned and glowing from the sun. I was relieved to feel the softness of her edges; to know that her body hadn’t hardened up too much with muscle. She remained still as curvy, round and lovely as I remembered.

Eve looked into my face in turn, snorting while turning away for just a moment to veil her amusement.

“You’ve got the biggest… silliest grin on your mug right now.” She chuckled, reaching up to brush the backs of her fingers over my cheeks. I could feel the pull to the edges of my mouth now and realized that yes, I _had_ been grinning like an absolute moron. But what else was there to be done when I was just so amazingly, _wonderfully_ happy?

“Well, yeah…” I confirmed, chuckling nervously as I tilted my chin down, aware that I wasn’t hiding my emotions as well as I usually did. It would have been near impossible even if I had had a mind to and quite honestly, I didn’t want to veil any of what I was feeling from Eve. I was riding high on this cloud of complete giddy contentment and I wanted to remain there for as long as possible. “I mean…God… you have _no_ idea how bad I’ve been wanting to do that, Eve.”

Her cheeks were already adorned with blush but they went darker still at my words. She looked pleased and flattered but reacting still to the unfamiliarity of my honesty. It was such a sweet expression that I couldn’t resist from brushing my lips against her brow; placing a kiss here before my desire compelled me to distribute my attentions elsewhere. I dropped my lips to her left eye and kissed then the right, not concerning myself with the makeup she had probably brushed there so meticulously. I pecked the high ridges of her cheekbones, one at a time before sinking my lips to that scar in her chin; that mark which signified her birth into this crazy world she was now a part of. I had wanted to kiss this place for so long and now I had no reason to hold myself back from doing so.

I did resist however from trailing my tongue along and within it. This wasn’t the time or place to indulge that particular hunger. But I kissed the length of it, trailed the line up to where it ended; a mere millimetre below her lower lip. I could hear her sigh and the clutch of her hands to me tightened all the more. Her own lips pecked the side of my face.

“I’m sorry, John…” She whispered, her forehead arching downward to rest at the very place she had only just kissed. I felt her fingertips tighten through my shirt; caress up and then down. Such a loving, temperature gesture; entirely in her nature. “I’ve played such… mean stupid games with you and… I never meant to… I… I mean…”

“Hey, hey…” I soothed, moving my arm from around her shoulders and cupping both hands to her jaw. She blinked at me; sad and confused and yearning all in one sweet expression. “Take it easy, huh darlin’? You don’t need to go layin’ it all out on the line right here and now. With all these fuckin’ earwigger’s standin’ around.”

Eve seemed to only then take notice of the crowd still milling about the courtyard; the majority of whom had stopped to admire what was transpiring between us. I was pleased to see that she didn’t look the least embarrassed for being observed in her moment of unrestrained passion but gave instead a self-mocking chuckle; as though she were actually a little pleased with herself.

“Yeah, poor bastards have probably dealt with enough today…” She murmured, lowering her voice then to a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned in that few extra inches. Close enough to bury the tip of her nose within the cavity where my own once resided. “I mean, they’ve already seen us sticking our tongues down each other’s throats…”

I chuckled at her tone but felt a shudder of desire race through my body at the mention of what had only just occurred between our mouths. Jesus that _kiss…_ I’d never been in short supply of them in my life and I couldn’t even tell you what age I was when I first started Frenching but… I can’t remember ever being bowled over the way that I was when Eve had kissed me. It was the intensity of the feelings that I had for her which contributed towards making it so incredible I’m sure. Coupled with the circumstances of our reunion, the amount of time I had spent desiring her and… well, simply that she _was_ in fact a good kisser. Though I had always expected she would be; given the shape of those gorgeous lips.

I looked her over again and could have wept to see how well she had healed this past month. When last I had seen her, she had endured a number of injuries in the same encounter that had seen my leg and hip shattered. None so severe as my own but they had been far from a scratch to be sure. Not to mention the residual injuries of our ordeal with the Wranglers and every other bastard in the Wasteland aside. I gave her right shoulder a little rub; remembering how she had bashed it into the courtyard pylon as she had made her clumsy way towards me and she murmured with embarrassment.

“Your face looks better.” I whispered, tilting her chin up so that I could get a better look at the bruising. She had done a good job with her makeup; almost entirely concealing the damage beneath a few strokes of foundation but I was still able to make out the dark shadows lingering beneath. I felt the overwhelming urge to lay my lips to these injuries and realized that in light of recent developments, there was absolutely no reason as to why I shouldn’t. I kissed first the bruise beneath her left eye and above her brow; lingering over her nose where the cartilage had been snapped and was now reset. There was a slight bow here, the only evidence of what had once been such a terribly grievous injury. I kissed around her mouth, traced my thumb over her lips; that lovely bow shape which had once been swollen and blue.

“You’ve pulled up well too… from what I can see.” She said softly, smiling as her fingers traced up and down my spine. I felt her nails start to scratch me through my shirt and I tilted my head back, unable to suppress the satisfied growl that slipped out from my lungs. _Still_ so goddamned itchy after all this time. “Hmm…maybe just a little longer… How’s that leg of yours? I saw you were limping before.”

I didn’t wanna talk about my goddamn limp, or my itchy back. Not if it meant deferring from what had just happened between us. I knew that she was only concerned but a part of me was paranoid that if I allowed us to just traverse past the event without further acknowledging it, that we’d just slip straight back into our usual deferent practice. Pretending like things were just ‘business as usual’.

“It’s getting there, chicken.” I said, smiling a little as I lowered my hands from her face and trailed them down over her shoulder blades and further still. Cupping her waist. “Can’t say I’m feeling much pain at the moment. You know… other than your canine compatriot currently trying to tear my _good_ leg off.”

Eve’s eyes widened in shock and she glanced down to where Dogmeat was standing just behind me; growling whilst yanking on my trouser leg with such determination I half expected him to rip the whole thing off at any moment. I’d managed to ignore him thus far; having much more interest in what was going on between Eve and myself. But I thought it probably best to mention something before the pooch went and pantsed me in front of the whole of Goodneighbor. Hard for a guy to win back _any_ sort of self-esteem after something like that.

“Dogmeat! What the bloody hell is all _that_ about?!” Eve snapped, placing one hand staunch on her hip and leaning down to cast an admonishing look at the hound. Dogmeat responded by releasing my trouser leg, wriggling his ass irritably from side to side and barking directly up into my face; lips drawn back dramatically from his long shiny white teeth. I noticed that the white jowls around his mouth were stained red and I hoped he hadn’t actually succeeded in taking a chunk from my shin. “Oh, don’t you ‘ _Rarf’_ at him, you silly boy. What on earth has gotten into you? You remember John. You _like_ John.”

“Shows what _you_ know.” I said, with a little roll of my eyes that she wouldn’t have been able to see due to my condition. Eve quirked her brow at me curiously. “Likes me well enough whenever you’re in the room. _Then_ he’s on his best behaviour, nothing surer. Soon as you’re outta sight though, he puts himself right between the two of us, sits there and eyes me off. If I try and get around him, he growls and takes a piece out of me.”

It was quite true. In the year that I had been travelling with Eve, Dogmeat and I had come to something of an uneasy truce. So long as I didn’t try to get too close to her whilst he was in the nearby vicinity, things were fairly smooth sailing. Dogmeat would reward me by being pleasant, curling up next to me for warmth and _not_ attempting to rip my throat out while I was sleeping. If however he caught me giving Eve a cuddle, sitting too close, or, god forbid, engaging in meaningful conversation by ourselves, all bets were off. Pooch would do anything to redirect the attention back to himself; including crawling between us, crawling on top of Eve and all but making love to her, or his very favorite diversionary tactic of all; biting me as soon as her back was turned. The fatty vulnerably part of my shin was his usual go to, although he would also aim for my ass if I was dumb enough to leave it unguarded in his presence.

And it wasn’t as though he was particularly refined in his means of expressing his negative opinion of me. Once, whilst we had all been standing about outside waiting for Eve to check the map on her Pipboy, Dogmeat had cocked his leg and taken a big steamy piss on my boot. Another time, he actually _waited_ until Eve left the shack we were staying in to use the toilet, before jumping on me, gunning for my throat with his teeth whilst humping the very same leg that he had earlier pissed on. Just to show me who was boss, I suppose. And I’ve gotta admit, if I’d thought to use the same strategy back in my earlier years at Goodneighbor; it might not have taken me nearly so long to become mayor. There’s something about being limb molested that just makes you feel like less of a man. I certainly didn’t feel much like the Alpha dog after this.

Of course this was naturally difficult for Eve to believe; she had only ever seen Dogmeat’s sweet side. What I think she failed to appreciate, is that Dogmeat clearly saw her as his property. In that little doggy mind of his, Eve was his ‘bitch’ and I was simply some rival male trying to muzzle on in and mount her whenever his back was turned. Dogs have a pretty keen sense of smell, so I can almost guarantee that he was able to pick up on my hormones or something and knew precisely what I had in mind for Eve. And he didn’t much like it.

To him, I was little more than competition. I represented a threat; one that he must have felt he had pretty much kept in check. At least until Eve and I had set off across the Commonwealth on our own. I think Dogmeat remembered that I might have whispered ‘Checkmate, mother fucker’ and given him the finger as I’d pattered off after Eve into the sunset. I was half expecting him to have come tearing across the Wasteland after us and savage me in my sleeping bag when I was least expecting it.

Eve looked positively astonished that her ‘little darling puddin’ pie’ could have been capable of such acts of savagery as I was suggesting. “Why, I had no idea he could be so devious…” She shot Dogmeat another look. “Have you been mangling John when my backs been turned, Dogmeat?”

Dogmeat immediately straightened up, cocking his head innocently to the side and giving a light wag of his tail as if to say ‘Who, me?’ I glowered down at him.

“Oh don’t you try that whole ‘butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth’ schtick, buddy. The jig is up.” I patted my hand to the curve of Eve’s back, which only caused Dogmeat to snarl again. “You had plenty of time to tell her how you felt while I was away and you blew it. Now it’s time to concede defeat like a gentleman.”

Dogmeat barked again, louder than the first time. It sounded to me like he was screaming ‘ _NEVER!’_ in doggy talk and this was certainly how Eve seemed to take it. She started chuckling as she reached down and gently tousled Dogmeat between the ears.

“Are you getting jealous, darling?” She said, pronouncing the word ‘jealous’ with a w in place of the l. She always put on this cutie pie baby voice whenever she spoke to Dogmeat. Part of the reason he’s so fucking spoilt, but hey, who am I to criticize another person’s parenting abilities? “Listen; just because Mommy has a… special relationship with John, doesn’t mean that she loves you any less. There’s room for both of you in my life and in my heart. Just think of me as a… big, chunky timeshare.”

“Hey, there are certain parts of you I hope you _wouldn’t_ want to share with your dog.” I murmured, flinching my brows in as I glanced back and forth between the pair of them uncertainly. Eve pulled a face and gave my arm gentle punch.

“You know what I mean.” She said, flashing a little smile as she gave Dogmeat another rub between the ears before leaning back up and settling into my embrace again. She flicked a finger at the momentarily assuaged pooch. “You’re just grumpy because you’re hangry. Nice bath and a good feed and you’ll find this whole development a lot easier to deal with.”

Dogmeat growled lightly, apparently unconvinced as he glanced up towards me again. His ears went back and I could just hear him thinking; ‘You are _not_ my real Dad and I’m going to bit your dick off while you’re sleeping.’ I growled back at him and Eve immediately smacked me on the side of the face. Hard enough to sting. I gaped and sputtered in shock.

“ _He_ started it!” I hissed, jabbing my finger towards Dogmeat accusingly. Eve smiled and gave a small shake of her head.

“He’s a _dog._ ” She said, speaking in a slow ‘talking to idiots’ tone of voice. As though the four legs, fur and tail attributes didn’t tip me off. “He doesn’t know any better. It’s up to you to set the example and be the bigger person.”

“’Set the example’, my well gnawed upon _ass._ ” I grumbled, narrowing my eyes at Dogmeat who stared back at me without the least hint of intimidation. “You just make the first move, pooch. This time, I’ll pin you down and hump _your_ leg. See how _you_ like it.”

“Oh stop it.” Eve scolded, giving me another gentle smack to the arm before fluttering her fingers towards Dogmeat with a much more accommodating smile. “Sweetheart, you’re going to have to learn to share and that’s all there is to it. Now, Mommy and Uncle John need to catch up for a bit. Why don’t you toddle along and find somewhere to have a wee-wee before we go inside?” She quickly snatched a finger up into the air as Dogmeat glanced towards my leg again with what I’m certain was genuine malicious intent flashing in his eyes. “Ah! _Don’t_ even think about it! Go cock your leg on the side of a building or something! _Goodness gracious!_ ”

Dogmeat flashed me another warning look before leaning over to lightly lap his tongue against the side of Eve’s hand. He turned and trotted off through the crowd, tail wagging lightly behind him as he went. I could tell that shit was far from over between us but at least I could relax for a while without worrying about his teeth sinking into every unguarded limb.

Eve sighed, chuckling softly to herself as she turned back to me and smiled, caressing my arms tenderly as I wound my own back around her midsection. She met my eyes with such genuine warmth I felt weak with relief. Even following Dogmeat’s intrusion, which had afforded her the opportunity of distraction, she didn’t look as though she regretted her actions at all but was instead completely at peace with them. Her thumb came up and stroked below my lips and then around them.

“You’ve got lipstick _all_ around your moosh-ka.” She said, bursting into cheerful laughter as she showed me the evidence on her thumb. I chuckled and pursed my lips, tilting my head to the side and quirking my brows as though showing myself off.

“Think it’s my color?” I asked, which roused another chuckle from her before she once again leaned up on the tips of her toes. I looked her in the eyes, gauging her intentions first and then we both sort of smiled and huffed at one another; our lips so close there could be little doubt where we were coming from. I took the liberty of closing the distance between us this time; nudging against her lips with my own to see whether this little communication might translate. She responded as I hoped; parting hers enough so that our open mouths could press together.

I supped her lips with my own; savouring the feel of that full plush softness. Her kiss felt and tasted even better than I had allowed myself to imagine. Not simply for the fact that it was real but for what that reality entailed. I could never fantasize her taste and smell and touch. Only project a comparative standard from the other women I had been with in my life. As I soon found however, _everything_ is amplified by the degree of love and compassion you have for that person. My heart hammered and swelled with wonder at it. I wanted to suck the air from her lungs, just as soon as I thought to breathe my own back into her. Such a delicious contradiction; the want to consume that which you so desperately wished to protect.

As we reconfirmed the connection between us, I slid my tongue over into the cavern of her mouth. It touched to the tip of her own; which flicked and then slid beneath, tracing the furrow that ran along its length. She was quite a bit bolder than I gave her credit for and I wondered for a moment if she could feel just what effect she was having on me. Our bodies were still pressed so tightly together it would be a small wonder that she wouldn’t feel the rise of my erection press to her. I tried to be considerate and angle my hip so that it didn’t come into contact but I’m certain that this alone seemed to clue her into what I was doing. We shared a few short, sweet and lingering kisses before parting and looking to one another again. Her eyes looked bright and she was smiling a little. She didn’t say anything regarding my arousal but simply twined her arms up around my shoulders again and sank herself tight to my chest; burying her face against my neck. I kissed her cheek and held her tight. I shut my eyes; sighing as I smelt her hair, rubbed her back and snuggled her to me. God knows what the rest of the Neighborhood Watch thought about their ‘fearless leader’ now but fuck it. Who gives a shit, really?

The woman that I adored; who I loved and desired had just walked into town, jumped into my arms and pushed her beautiful pert mouth against my horrible caved in old Ghoul lips. I couldn’t have been happier than if the Brotherhood’s giant fucking blimp had just burst like a piñata and rained exotic Chems down all over the Commonwealth. … Although… that _would_ be a pretty awesome development too.

“Maybe we’d um… better continue this… inside?” Eve whispered and I felt a zing of adrenaline burst down my arms, ripple through my shoulders and send my toes and fingers to tingling. Was she actually suggesting that we go upstairs and make love? After all this goddamn time, was I actually getting everything that I desired in the space of fifteen minutes?! I hardly dared hope that this might be what she was thinking but I wasn’t certain. I could feel her own heart thudding against the wall of my chest; further down from where my own was stalwartly attempting to thrust a hole through my skin. I leaned back a little and looked at her and she smiled, caressing her hand down my cheek before pushing her lips to mine again. God damn… I was _never_ gonna get tired of that kiss. “You’re um… getting maybe just that little more excited than is appropriate for a public setting, darl. And we should really talk over just what… well, you know.”

Ah yes. _Talk._ That was _exactly_ what I was thinking about doing as well. Especially after she had just made allusions to my _cock_ ; leaving no doubt that she was both aware of it and most likely felt the press of it that very moment. She didn’t seem to mind however, despite the fact that her cheeks were flushed so red she looked likely to keel over from heat stroke at any moment. She had to have been thinking, in some part of her mind that it was because of her that I was this hard and I wondered if this pleased her in some way. Eve was a fairly insecure woman at times, so it couldn’t hurt to have… um… _proof_ of her desirability.

I leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Well… you’ve only got yourself to blame for getting me excited. Strolling in here looking all tanned and beautiful, throwing your arms around me… with no bra on nonetheless.” I plucked at the back of her shirt, beneath which her bra strap might normally have rested and gave it a little shake as evidence that there was nothing else there. Eve’s face flushed and she pressed her fingers to her mouth; trying to hide an equally embarrassed smile.

“Well, _you’re_ one to talk.” She said and I felt her other hand slide off of my shoulder, curve around my hip and press to my ass. She gave me a squeeze here and then plucked at the seat of my pants. “Freeballing again. You are _such_ a fucking tart.”

“You know it.” I chuckled, cupping her cheek again and leaning down to catch her in another kiss. Jesus, I couldn’t keep my fucking hands off of her now. It was like I was attempting to squeeze every kiss I wish I had ever given her into the space of five minutes. If I could get her upstairs, I had more than fifty bloody positions I might have managed to squeeze into a good half hour or so too.

First things’ first; I _really_ needed to acknowledge the others. After all, most of them I hadn’t seen for even longer than Eve. Not since all the hell we had gone through with the Rolling Ranch and Beacon’s Hill. I may not have missed them the way that I did Eve but I still cared for them. The nine of us had gone through as much hell, if not more, than my original Nine of Goodneighbor. There’s a bond that comes from that which is unbreakable. And much as I wanted simply to be alone with Eve, I would never do the others the callous disrespect of ignoring them.

I took a moment before moving however; simply holding Eve to me and drinking her in with my eyes. I needed to calm myself before approaching the others because I’m quite sure they wouldn’t appreciate my marching towards them with a tent pole in my pants. It was difficult, since she was so close and so receptive to my touch and my kiss. Her copper colored skin was glowing in the afternoon sun and her green eyes looked more vibrant than ever. I still couldn’t quite believe that she was here with me; let alone that she had kissed me of her own volition. Was I tripping out on too much Chark, Mentats and heatstroke? I’d puffed a shitload of cigarettes as well… maybe I was so high and dehydrated that I’d imagined all this shit up. Jesus, I could have very well have been making out with the courtyard pylon for all I knew.

I lowered my nasal cavity to her hair and took in another whiff. Eve obviously hadn’t washed it properly in a while, so that characteristic flowery smell I had come to associate with her wasn’t present. But it was still _her._ She had her own scent; of soft perfume, clean skin, cigarettes and wine. I could near smell the sun in her flesh. I could see the tan lines in her naturally dark skin, separate from that which had been exposed to the sun in her travels. I nuzzled her hair, felt some of it tickle the inside of my nasal cavity and I snorted back a sneeze that might very well have blown crap all over the crown of her head. I squeezed her waist; felt the curve there which tapered down to the softness of her hips, peaking into folds of flesh at the apex of her jeans. She must have felt the flex of my fingers to her little love handles because she chuckled, pressing her nose to my cheek.

“Hey now… what are you up to fondling my flub there?”

“Just feeling you.” I whispered back, smiling at the bashful look this statement pronounced on her face. I pressed a kiss to her temple and then leaned down to whisper in her ear, dropping my hand down off of her waist at the same time so that it rode the perfect curve of her ass. “I’m just gonna go and say hey to the others. Then we’ll talk, okay darlin?”

She smiled beautifully, not seeming to mind at all that my hand was resting on her backside. But then, we had been fairly comfortable with the passing glance of a hand to the posterior in the past. This was more direct to be certain but Eve didn’t appear the least concerned by it.

“Sounds good.” She whispered back, giving me a soft peck to the mouth and patting my own ass as I squeezed hers in turn. God _damn_ … so fucking round and _soft._ I needed to get this meet and greet over with _fast._ “Hurry back to me, okay…?”

“Oh, you don’t need to be worryin’ about _that._ ” I said, petting her rump once more before leaving the comforting warmth of her arms and making my way towards the others. Where Eve had been pressed to me, my clothing now clung to my sweaty skin, so I fluttered my shirt a little to get some air flowing through to my flesh again.

A cool shower would have been just the ticket… I thought of Eve and I slipping away into the Statehouse Shower room, locking the door behind us and tossing all our clothes into a bundle in the corner. We would submerge ourselves beneath the cool water; purge the steam from our humid flesh and clutch and squeeze and kiss in the refreshing stream. A rushed development to follow on from one kiss but still, who was to say what may or may not be possible now? And until such things actually transpired, they were all the more fun to imagine.

What was that old saying about anticipation…? Ah that’s right; that it heightens the pleasure. Never had an opportunity to experience this for myself, since I had never been known to wait around for those things that I knew would afford me pleasure. But now… now I understood. The desire was all the more ravenous from what was theoretically one little nibble of food in an attempt to assuage a long starving creature. A feast could only taste all the more magnificent if one was to hold himself at bay for long enough to truly and completely cherish it.

I forced myself up and out of my thoughts again, glanced once more back at Eve and smiled when I saw her watching me with such a temperate, loving look on her face. I suppose I feared that I might catch a glimpse of reluctance on her face (or worse, disgust) but she hadn’t for one second looked to be concerned or regretting what had happened. My heart thumped again and again. Jesus Christ… it had really happened, hadn’t it? Finally. Thank God. Thank _fucking_ God.

It was only when I turned back to the others that I noticed that poor old bastard Xavier. He was standing behind Cait, staring at either Eve or myself or perhaps both, with an expression on his face which suggested that the world might have ended for the second time. As I approached, his open maw clacked together; forming his mouth into a miserable little upside down crescent and he veered to the left, disappeared behind Nick and weaved his way through the crowd so as to be well shot of me, I presume.

I couldn’t help but feel a little bad. Guy had a hard on for Eve something fierce. Much more than she realized. I think Eve was of the impression that his feelings had been left behind in the fallout of the bombings but this was far from the truth. Seeing her come into town and launch herself lips first at me would have just about broken the poor sods heart, for sure. I wasn’t exactly his favourite person; for a number of reasons. I don’t think he ever quite reconciled the fact that I was able to remain cheerful, enjoy life and sleep around in spite of the fact that I was a Ghoul. My apparent ‘successes’ had only reinforced his own feelings of being cheated and wronged somehow. The guys ‘victim mentality’ meant that he wouldn’t be able to understand that Eve and I had genuinely fallen for one another. He’d likely just hate me the more for it. Figure that I had stolen away the woman that he loved.

Well, I wasn’t going to waste too much time feeling bad about it. Xavier might have known Eve two hundred years ago but he had never known her the way that I had. His supposed love for her was idealized. Distant and assuming something of her character from the limited peek into her world that she had permitted. True, she’d fooled around with him the once… she hadn’t been too proud of herself to admit that she’d fucked up in the past. But this had come as an act of retaliation with her husband; from feeling desperate and trapped. Not out of any true desire to be with Xavier.

I pushed him out of mind for now, figuring I’d make time later to be the bigger man and seek him out for a good old fashioned talking to. Didn’t want the guy thinking I was trying to rub his nasal cavity in it after all. (Though I might have been. Just a little). There were more important things to concern myself with at the moment than Xavier’s hurt feelings.

It had been over two months since I had seen most of the crew that Eve and I had been travelling with and I felt just the slightest bit emotional for reuniting with them. Not to the extent of pashing them, of course but it was with true genuine feelings of warmth that I approached.

It was Nick who moved forward to greet me first; a little surprising, since he normally makes it a point to give me a wide berth. I think to maybe make up for the amount of time he was forced to chase after me to Goodneighbor in my younger years, at the behest of my poor, stressed out mother. In Nick’s mind, I think he’d had quite enough of me during this rebellious phase and wanted to make it quite obvious that he wanted now as little to do with my annoying ass as possible.

And yet now he was approaching me with what I could only assume was a more… accommodating expression on his face. Little hard to tell when there wasn’t much left of his face to begin with. But he was kind of smiling and his hand was already up and on offer to meet my own. We clasped palm to palm and I returned his smile with interest. It was Nick who had picked up with Eve after I had been forced to return to Goodneighbor and with him went all my hope and trust for her continued safety and wellbeing. A task it was now apparent that he had not failed in. He would always have my gratitude for that.

“Hey Nick. Thanks for getting her back in one piece.” I leaned in and lowered my voice a little, not wanting Eve to pick up on what I was saying as she wandered back to join the rest of the group behind me. “Not too many scuffs either, from what she’ll let me see.”

“As the good Bard said; ‘ _And though she be but little, she is fierce.’”_ Nick replied with a serious tone, smiling still as he leaned closer and added. “I vouched for you. Don’t do anything to make me regret my recommendation, huh?”

I chuckled and gave the back of his hand a hefty clout with my own; a little touched that the old circuit board would have done me such a service. We’d had our fair share of disagreements and divergences of opinion in the past but at days close I really do think the guy saw some integrity in my character. Though it hadn’t hurt that he had witnessed me in perhaps my moment of greatest weakness; where my only real thoughts had been for Eve and her survival and I hadn’t possessed so much as a sliver of strength to pretend otherwise. I think that was the first moment he saw that I possessed real feelings for that woman; feelings that went beyond the physical, that is.

“You won’t have to worry about that.” I told him, smiling and clasping his hand tighter between my own. Holding him tight to my word that I would do everything in my power to be worthy of the woman that we both held in such high regard. Nick’s eyes whirred in their sockets; entirely mechanical and yet somehow able to incorporate the intentions of his person entirely. The unspoken words ‘ _I had better not’_ resonated like the warning hiss of a Molerat in the back of my mind but his smile creased just the slightest bit higher in the corners all the same. In some ways, I think he still couldn’t help but see me as a child, who needed coddling perhaps just as much as Eve did. Not entirely flattering but it couldn’t hurt if it cut me a bit of slack for my shortcomings.

I passed over to his right and found myself face to face with the D-man himself. Because tight-ass formalities weren’t exactly our thing, I breezed right on past them and decided to give him a laugh instead by reaching down into my boot and tugging the edge of one of the socks I was wearing into sight.

“You missing something, brother?”

Deacon stared at the flamboyant orange of the sock and his mouth dropped open. “Ohhh…” He said, chuckling at the realization. “So _that’s_ where they got to… You sneaky son of a shuffler! I looked _everywhere_ for those! Started thinking some Gypsy Witch had gotten hold of them and was using it to put hexes on me.”

“With the luck our lot have… wouldn’t surprise me.” I said, releasing the sock elastic so that it snapped back down into my boot, fitting snugly about the base of my trousers. I looked at him then, my chest tight with empathy and wishing not for the first time that his glasses weren’t in the way. I was used to gauging people’s emotions by looking into their eyes, or in the very least, seeing the flex of the wrinkles _around_ their eyes. Naturally it was all part of Deacon’s means to keep his inner most convictions concealed. More than ever, I guess this was serving him well.

The Wrangler’s had done a whopping number on Eve and I, that much was true. But Deacon had gotten it pretty bad as well. And this was a man who, I can only imagine, hadn’t had a very easy life himself. Well, who does in this day and age? But the assault that he had been made to endure at the hands of those bastards was as violent as it had been humiliating for the poor guy. And based on his response in the aftermath; I don’t think he had any prior experience to draw upon. In knowing how to perhaps deal with it… or cope a little better, even.

He’d been in a horrible state of shock afterwards. Grossly embarrassed for himself and struggling to come to terms as to how to live with himself for not having been able to prevent it. The standard bag with trauma. For the most part, I think he just wanted to try and forget about it and move on but once I had clued him in over some of my experiences, he would mooch up from time to time and ask a few questions here and there. Gaining a little strength from seeing someone else being able to move on and survive; such as it is.

Not exactly the kind of thing I would have chosen to bond over but there you go. After all, this wasn’t really something a guy could comfortably disclose to a woman; not without feeling as though he was compromising something of himself. Eve was the exception, of course. At least, so far as I was concerned. I could have told that girl anything and never worried a jot that she thought me weak or lesser for the things I had done or experienced. Deacon unfortunately, did not share that closeness. Not with… anyone, it seemed.

And so I felt a sense of responsibility towards his welfare. Not enough that I’d push and prod and harangue and harass him beyond the point of being helpful but enough so that he knew that someone was on his side. Who understood what he was feeling and could empathize as one fella to the next.

With this in mind, I kept my voice tempered and asked, “How you doing, brother?”

He played it cool, smile barely wavering as he jerked his shoulders in a kind of offhand manner. “Ah, you know. You know. As the crow flies, can’t complain.”

Now I know why Eve got so annoyed with what she liked to call the ‘male deflection’. Perhaps it was because of her that I had a lot less patience for people putting up with the bad shit in their bones than I ever did before. The guy was only likely to rot his gut from inside out by binding all that poison to his core.

I gave Deacon a little look and smiled, pointedly. “Well, that’s just the point. Ya _can_.”

His smile quavered infinitesimally, just enough to let me know that his emotions were stirring beneath the surface. With what seemed to be a great deal of force, he yanked the corners of his mouth back up. It was nonetheless, a bitter effort. “If I thought it would help, I might. I guess I’m just tryin’ to… ya know. Leave it in the dust as much as I can.”

I could understand and appreciate where he was coming from with this. It had been the crux of my own survival all these years; to run away from shit as hard and as fast as I was able. I might have suggested that this was a poor choice and ultimately more harmful at days end but every decision I had made, for better for worse, had led me to Eve. Little consolation for Deacon at this time; to suggest that truly beautiful things can flourish from the shit that’s heaped upon you now. There’s still a stink in your nose and a taste on your tongue you just can’t quite shake. And for a very long time, that’s _all_ you’re able to focus on.

That’s where he was at in the process right now; trying to duck away from it so he could breathe fresh air for a while. And once upon a time, two people like us would barely have reason to cross paths, let alone exchange words and share tragedies. But walls have been torn down by a lot less. So he didn’t flinch when I leaned in and hooked an arm around his shoulders; slapping a hand firmly to the centre of his back. He returned it; neither of us quite turning it into an embrace but acknowledging that the sentiment was no different for the abbreviation of the gesture.

“You ever wanna talk it out, you know where to find me.” I said, closer to his ear than I’m sure most folks would be comfortable with. I did it so that the others didn’t catch wind of our conversation and start pondering or asking questions. A brother’s gotta have another brother’s back, you know?

Deacon’s body tightened a little beneath my arm; the way it might have done if he were holding back tears, or a scream or… whatever other expression might be suitable to express a pain too deep to keep buried. This was where his glasses were serving him well. No one could look directly into his eyes and see the static shimmer through an otherwise flawlessly controlled façade.

“Appreciate it.” He croaked, clearing his throat when he realized that his voice had failed him for a moment. We pulled apart and left a slap to one another’s shoulders, passing the smallest of smiles. When he was feeling better, I hoped we could get back to our usual back and forth of joke telling because I’d gathered quite a few doozies whilst being holed up in town. A coupla great dirty ones that I knew would crease his sides.

Speaking of shared tragedy bringing folks closer together, I can’t say this was any more relevant than in the case of myself and Piper Wright. Here was a madam who always had a beef with me of some sort and made no bones about concealing it either. And I can quite honestly say that I’m not entirely sure why.

Okay, I did push her buttons a lot but that was true with just about everyone; especially people I was fond of. And I even put in that little extra bit of effort to try to charm her but I think the woman’s raging feminist streak didn’t permit her to see it as anything other than me trying to rip her panties out from under her. I think she honestly had a difficult time believing that I was in any way genuine. In actuality, flirting just… comes naturally to me. And it definitely doesn’t come from a place of disrespect for women; far from it. I adore women. I enjoy their company and I do in fact like being around them a great deal more than I do other blokes. And I don’t even mean that sexually. When I was a little tacker, _way_ before hormones and shit kicked in, I used to hang out with the girls during morning tea and lunchtime. They’d play kiss and catch and I’d stand in the middle of the bases, arms outstretched, lips puckered, _waiting_ to be caught. Didn’t make me very popular with the other lads at the time but boy was I hit with the girls.

It helped me to see from very early on that most women warmed to a guy who wasn’t afraid to put himself on the line for them. To be open and gutsy and honest. Applied to most lady folk I’d crossed paths with. Piper was one of the exceptions to the rule.

We _had_ in fact talked about it; I’m not really the sort to leave things unsaid, especially if it sticks out like dogs balls. She had mentioned straight up that she didn’t like my flirting. Or my Chem use. Not to mention my more ‘free for all’ approach to running Goodneighbor which she seemed to feel bordered on Nihilism. Or my violent methods of dealing out justice. Or my recklessness, my drinking, my smarmy expressions, the weird clacking noise I made when I brushed my teeth and my tendency to pronounce the word ‘soup’ with a W behind the S that simply didn’t exist. (She might have been a coupla drinks in herself when she offered up this glowing assessment of my character. I mean… I’d only really asked for the _main_ reason, not a stripping down to the nuts and bolts of all my failings as a human being.)

I might have simply tossed in the towel at this point and consoled myself with the understanding that some people are simply destined to never get along. And it wouldn’t have been so important to me in the first instance if the two of us weren’t forced into each other’s metaphorical laps by Eve. She clearly cared for us both and so we did our utmost to be civil and polite for her sake. Easier for me than for the reporter, as it were. _I_ didn’t actually have a problem with her. She was smart and feisty and had a lot of spunk and guts; all attributes that I admired in a person. If Eve hadn’t been around, they might have been things that would have attracted me to her as a woman also. And it’s not like I didn’t like a challenge occasionally.

But shared tragedy has a way of snuffing out all that petty shit and putting it in perspective the way nothing else can. Piper may not ever be my number one supporter but she had softened to me ever since the Rolling Ranch and I think we had grown to genuinely care about one another in a way that only survivors of a truly traumatic event can understand.

So when I smiled at her on this occasion and raised my arms, she didn’t flinch away and sneer and spit like she might have done in the past. Instead, she smiled in return, her eyes shining with emotion as she stepped up and put her arms around me. I think our relationship had developed into one that was not dissimilar to a brother and sister; who argue all the time in the light of day but are always there to support one another when times got tough.

“How you doin’, reporter?” I asked, giving her a little pat on the upper back. I kept my hands well clear of her midsection, in case she decided to take some offense at the perceived wandering of my digits.  

She gave a long, grumpy sounding sigh almost directly into my ear. “Okay, I s’pose… Least I _was_ ‘til those Raiders tried to get their mitts all over us just outside of town.”

That’s right. I had been so caught up with what happened between Eve and I that I hadn’t even thought about what Ryan had mentioned earlier. I stepped back from Piper, holding her steady by the shoulders and giving her a very serious look.

“You or any of the others hurt?”

She shook her head, her lip twisting off to the side in a way that made her cheek bunch up. Like a squirrel storing away a nut. “Just a little scraped and bruised… nothing to write to the paper about. Looking a lot better than they are, that’s for sure. Just… brings up a lot of memories, you know?”

Boy did I know. Everywhere we turned these days the memories of that dreadful time were never too far beneath the surface. It didn’t take much to dredge them up and they were never entirely out of sight anyway.

“They didn’t put their fucking paws on any of you girls, did they?”

Piper shrugged a little. “One guy kinda… beat me into the ground a bit… Eve got groped on the ass.”

Fucking assholes. Why they couldn’t just buy a girl a drink was beyond me. But then again, that was Raider’s for you. Why work hard for something when you could just take it at gunpoint? Seemed like their life motto. I glanced over my shoulder at Eve, who was pattering about something to Nick with a relaxed looking smile on her face. She didn’t seem to be particularly traumatized by what had occurred. But then sadly, she had gone through a lot worse than just a hiney grope.

“You get manhandled out there in the wastes, Munch?” I asked, causing her to twist her head towards me questioningly. She mulled for a second and then realized what I must have been talking about.

“Oh… with the Raiders before. No darling, it was nothing. They did a nastier number on Piper than on me.” She reached down and gave a little slap to her backside, which stirred me up a lot more than it ought to have done. “They just grabbed my bum a little.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, wishing she wouldn’t downplay this sort of shit. She pretended like it didn’t particularly bother her, when I knew for a fact that it did. Her reaction after being attacked by the Ghouls at Wanderer’s Respite was proof enough. Let alone everything else she had endured before _and_ after.

“Well _no one_ should be grabbing your bum without consent. You know… except for me.” I established, which wrought some laughter from both Eve and Deacon. Piper just sort of rolled her eyes but to her credit it was in more of a ‘Here he goes again’ sort of way, rather than a ‘I wish he was dead and so was I’ sort of way. When the laughter had died down, I added in a more serious voice: “Hope you ripped the bastards a new one.”

She chuckled and gave a sly little wink in response. “Were you expecting anything less?”

I smiled at her words, quietly relieved however that they had all managed to survive this attack without further degradation or injury. Sometimes it seemed like this world was too fucking remorseless, the way it slammed you with the same evil shit over and over again. The urge to build those massive walls up around Eve, or failing that perch her in a tower with a hoard of Mutant Hounds for protection was stronger than ever.

I looked Piper over, thinking it was just as much a relief that she was okay as well. “You don’t need medical attention?” I asked, thinking that any injuries she may have had weren’t obvious to the naked eye.

Piper shook her head. “No. No. Got a Stimpak into me. A cold beer and I’ll be right as rain.”

Ha, dame definitely had her redeeming features, _that’s_ for sure. I chuckled as I gave her a gentle clap to the upper shoulder.

“We’ll get that lined up for ya. Hey,” I murmured, leaning close and thinking I couldn’t let her get away from me without at least one good ribbing. “Good thing you’re in one piece. BC woulda cried the town down if anything happened to you.”

Just as I predicted, the reporter flushed almost as bright red as the coat she was currently carrying at her side. Her arms came up and battered my own away before shoving against my shoulders with just enough force to show she was annoyed.

“Oh shut up.” She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and looking set to pout for a while. Suddenly, her expression slackened, as though remembering something she had forgotten to do and she leaned in close, lowering her voice so that I needed to get my ear almost up right next to her mouth. “And hey… Look… I am actually… you know, happy to see you guys… get somewhere. It’s been _way_ too long with all the carry on and flirting and shit. But… keep in mind that she’s still… pretty confused about some stuff, okay? Just… don’t rush anything.”

Looks like everyone was going to have their two caps worth to add in regards to Eve and I. Should have expected as much and I can’t say I minded that they had her best interests at heart. They probably had my own in mind as well but it was quite true that she was in a vulnerable situation and required delicate handling. Something I think I can safely say I could pull off. Emotionally _and_ physically.

Though I hardly felt I had been rushing anything up until this point. One year without trying on so much as a line? Okay, well I had tried on a _few_ lines to be fair… but I hadn’t gone in for a serious kill. There were fucking rock dwelling molluscs out there that were giving our relationship progress a run for its money in the slow moving stakes.  

I smiled at Piper in what I hoped was a comforting manner. “Listen darlin’… so far as this all goes, Eve’s the one got hold of the stirrups. Everything goes at the pace she’s comfortable with. And I ain’t plannin’ on bucking the cart if you catch my meaning. She’s… too damned important for me to go and fuck things up now.”

Piper looked quite a bit relieved as she put a little punch into my bicep. “Glad you see that. Anyway, I think Codsworth fancies a word so mind you be on your best behavior now. Last member of the family left standing… well _hovering_ and all.”

Sure enough, the added heat searing into the back of my shirt was proof enough that Codsworth and his nuclear powered thrusters had rattled up behind me. I gave a little tip of my hat to Piper, grateful for her quiet vote of support and turned then to face the person… well _bot_ whose positive opinion might have perhaps been the most important of all to gain.

But because I’m a terrible tease and can’t help myself, I opened the conversation ever so appropriately by tapping Codsworth on the side of his dome shaped chassis and saying in an overly clipped and theatrical British accent; “Hello there, me old China. Pip-pip and all that.”

Codsworth was silent for a moment and then when he did speak, it was with a very unamused sounding drawl. “I see… it’s funny because I have an accent that is foreign to this land and comes with its own unique use of acronyms and turns of expression. All of which you believe to be quite stereotyped and amusing to the ear. Quite droll indeed, Mayor Hancock.”

I chuckled a little, mainly to hide the fact that I felt a little embarrassed in my teasing of him. Codsworth had a way of making you feel like you were a stupid asshole without even really trying. Robot or not, he was one of the very cleverest fuckers I had ever known. And he could sling a serving of sarcasm with as much accuracy as his buzz saw. No better way to go and make a bloke feel like a fool.

“Yeah… sorry for stirring ya. Brain’s kinda gone to goop you know, what with uh… everything else going on.” I flicked my head off in the direction of Eve, though I’m certain Codsworth knew quite well what was befuddling my thoughts at the moment. “So… how ya been floatin’?”

His voice box issued a world weary sort of sigh, his eye compartments all swinging about to focus astutely in my direction. “Oh I must confess, it has been simply _marvellous,_ Mayor Hancock! Work is never in short supply at the Mercer Safehouse. Why it’s been utter bliss these past few weeks! The endless amounts of undergarments, trousers, socks and jocks to sort, press and pack away! I dare say if I had an epidermis to pinch I might have done so by now, simply to assure myself that such wondrous happiness is not a dream!”

Though I myself couldn’t fully appreciate the near orgasmic joy that apparently comes with scrubbing skidmarked underpants, it was nice to see that Codsworth was in a good place. I patted my palm once more to his side, affectionately this time.

“Kind of get where you’re coming from. Including the epidermis part.” I said, flashing him a little smile.

“Sir… if I may…” He paused for a moment, his programmed voice laced with what sounded annoyingly like concern. Oh Jesus… was the bot all set now to just go ahead and rain on my happy little parade? “With all due respect, my poor Mistress has been through so much in this past… well, year I suppose. Seeing the hubby killed in front of her, losing Shaun to the Institute. Not to mention everything else that she and the rest of you have endured during your travels…” He paused once more, respecting I suppose that I might need a moment to gather myself after this once more painful reminder of everything that had occurred in recent months. “It’s… more than anyone should have to bear. But during that time, I’ve watched you and Mum grow closer and I must say that it warms my nuclear core to think that my beloved mistress may still have a wonderful life in this desecrated world with someone like you at her side.” His metallic pincer reached out to gently tap my upper chest; right over where my heart was located. “I truly believe that it is because of her friendship with you that she was able to survive all these terrible tragedies that have besieged her. And I do believe, beyond an angstrom of a doubt, that you would take such wonderful care of her, Mayor Hancock. I do believe, in fact, that there is not a single soul out there I would put my trust in more to protect her from all the dangers that the Commonwealth presents.”

I admit that his words both touched and overwhelmed me and I did in fact need a moment to collect myself, or risk looking like a dewy eyed idiot in front of everyone. Once I was certain I had my shit under control, I turned back to Codsworth, allowing him to finish saying what he was saying.

“ _However,”_ Okay… here comes to drop. “It would be remiss of me sir, as the only still functioning member of her family, if I didn’t advise you to please be sensitive with my dear mistress. She is still very new to this world and does not always make the best decisions in her own interest. Not to mention that she is unapologetically clumsy, nosy and prone to drinking too much.”

It might have been a nice, considerate comment… if Eve hadn’t been close enough to hear every one of his loudly spoken words. I glanced over my shoulder to see that, sure enough, she’d cottoned on to what Codsworth was saying about her and her mouth had dropped into a perfectly round ‘O’ of affront.

“Jesus,” She said, brows pinching down to form a petulant looking frown. “I’d hate to think what you’d say if you _weren’t_ fond of me, Codsworth.”

The Butler-Bot didn’t waste any effort on trying to sound contrite. “It is your little quirks and idiosyncrasies that make you who are you are, Mum. And the very reason I care so greatly for you.” He now swivelled two of his eye stalks towards her and tilted them in a way that made him look extremely sincere. “I do know that sir would want to see you happy. With that being said,” The eyes snapped back to me. “Mayor Hancock, please take good care of my mistress. I could only give my approval to any gentleman who entered her life if he cherished her at least as much as I myself do.”

“Hey, I ain’t lacking in the ‘cherishing’ department, if you know what I’m saying.” I said but giving a little tip to the front of my hat to show my respect. Getting the robots blessing had been pretty important to me; given that he was a… well, person, who was likely to be in her life and at her side for a very long time. If Codsworth were to disapprove of me… well, it wouldn’t change my desire to be with Eve but it would have made life just that little more uncomfortable. I prefer as much smooth sailing where possible. “But I hear where you’re coming from. And I’ll take care of her as much as she’ll allow me to do so, Codsworth.” I lowered my voice, aware that Eve’s ears were still pricked for any further slights of her character. “You know what she’s like.”

“Quite so.” Codsworth damn near yelled in response. Discretion was definitely not the better part of this bots valour, _that’s_ for fucking sure. “Stubborn as a backed up Brahmin, as the saying goes. That is why you must always remain vigilant, sir, as I myself have been since the moment my visual sensors kicked in. I can’t imagine it is much different from observing the actions of an ambitious toddler; always one step removed from disaster. I have learned that it helps to keep a small bottle of spirits available for those times when she is cross and or anxious. Calms her right down!”

I could have wet myself laughing at the expression on Eve’s face. The poor girl looked positively astonished that Codsworth couldn’t even be bothered to veil his opinion on her. And that he did in fact possess little tricks of the trade that a person might otherwise enforce in the training of a dog.

“I’m standing right here!”

I smirked at her, teasing. “Are you suggesting that he’s wrong?”

She pouted her lips, looking all too much like a tired, grumpy child. “Well… no. But the least one of you could do is ferret out one of those little bottles if you’re going to be talking down about me like that!”

I chuckled affectionately as I reached across to cluck my thumb and fingers beneath her chin. “I’ll get you a drink in a minute, darlin’. Just finish saying my hey’s and how d’you do’s first and then I’m all yours.”

She went a little red at my words, turning her face away with a small smile. God, this woman _was_ as cute as a puppy. I could see why Codsworth treated her like one. “Flirt.” She murmured, though she didn’t sound disapproving in the least. She fluttered her hand at me. “Go and do your thing then.”

I smirked as I turned back to Codsworth, giving him another little smack to the side of his chassis. “You got my word, big guy.”

Codsworth bobbed his body forwards and backward, the way a person might incline their head when offering up a heartfelt gesture. “And I know that your word is good, Mayor Hancock. Godspeed, sir.”

I chuckled a little as I moved on to MacCready, who had just finished repacking all his various guns, munitions and explosives. He gave me an annoyed look as I approached, jerking his thumb towards Vinnie, who was still busy scribbling in the Registration book.

“Hey Hancock. What’s the deal with the weapon registration crap? Guy took a bullet from each of my guns.”

I cocked my head a little, giving MacCready an amused look. “He’s usin’ them to put together an Identi-kit. If any murders or crimes happen in the town, the information can be used to match weapons to faces. Oh and hello to you, Mac. Nice seeing you again and all. Manners could still use a little fine tuning as I can see.”

“Ah, blow it out ya face hole.” MacCready grumbled, though the side of his lip quirked as he finished stuffing the last of his guns away and tugged the nape of his duffle bag closed. He stepped over it then and slung his arm around my shoulder, giving me a quick pat to the upper back. I returned the gesture. “So, how’s the coolest Ghoul in the Commonwealth?”

“Stinkin’ like a fish and sweatin’ like the Brahmin who knows he’s for dinner.” I replied, reaching up and giving his hat a good twist, so that it came down over his eyes. MacCready snatched for my own hat, batting the peak down so hard that it flipped the whole thing off of my head. I managed to catch it in my hand and with a twist, flip it back up onto my skull.

“Oh my God, I kissed a _bald man_.” I heard Eve gasp in exaggerated dismay from behind me. I turned to see her, staring at me with both hands clasped to the side of her face in exaggerated horror as the others burst out laughing. I whipped back towards MacCready and gave him a cuff to the back of the head.

“Thanks a lot, you little turd. I’ve been trying to hide that for the past year.” I exclaimed, which only made him laugh all the harder. Deacon decided to add to the situation by reaching out and grabbing my hat back off of my head.

“Gotcha covered, boss.” He said, snatching the pompadour wig from his own bald crown and quickly jamming it over my scon instead. The laughter, which had been dying, started up again.

“Oh, much better.” Eve said, wiping at the sides of her eyes, which looked to be tearing up. “You’re a vision, darling.”

A few of the fellas in the Neighborhood Watch simply glanced back and forth between myself, Deacon and MacCready; wondering, I think, whether I was going to at any moment lash out and stab the two of them. When it didn’t happen, they had a good chuckle themselves; as I fluffed the spikes of the wig up and Deacon slid my hat onto his head. He posed with both hands on his hips and legs spread apart.

“For some reason, I have an urge to sail the seven seas and pillage some mermaids.” He said, affecting an over the top pirate like accent as he swished his hand up over his eyes; peering into a theoretical distance.

“And I’ve got an urge to lie about everything I’ve ever seen, done, felt and experienced.” I said, reaching up to flip the wig from my head and toss it back in Deacon’s direction. “Here; take your voodoo scalp back. Don’t know how you can stand to wear it in this heat. Fucking things dripping with sweat.”

“Yeah, well your hat ain’t so lemony fresh either.” He shot back, flicking the hat off of his head and then sending it back to me like a Frisbee. I caught it mid toss and slid it back onto my scalp. Deacon pretended to wring out his wig and gave it a few slaps to his thigh before reaffixing it.

“You know, it’s kinda nice to think that I’m the only guy travelling in the group who still has his own hair.” MacCready mused to himself, taking off his hat long enough to give his hair a few sharp tugs; as though to prove to everyone that it wasn’t a wig.

“Yeah well bald is beautiful, brother.” I said, holding out my fist for Deacon to tap his own against. Supporting the cause, you know. “It was only the ugly heads they covered with hair.”

MacCready snorted and flicked his chin towards me in a haughty gesture. “Well if that’s the case, _you_ should have…” He flicked his fingers around the top of his head, trying to figure out the correct wording for whatever insult he was about to foist at me. “- like a… reverse mullet.”

Eve grinned at him. “What? Party in the front, business in the back?” She swept her hand down over her face, as though following an invisible wave of hair. MacCready chuckled and clapped his hands together.

“Yes! Have the hair all like, hanging down in front of your nasty ass face. That way, no one has to lose their appetite over dinner again.”

I affected a melodramatic look of devastation at his words (as though the fact that I was ugly was news to me) and took my handkerchief out from my pants pocket to dab at the corners of my eyes. Eve, whose own mouth had dropped open in referred offense, reached over and rubbed the backs of her fingers over my cheek.

“Don’t listen to him, darling. _I_ think you’re beautiful.” She soothed, which only set everyone else off again. While they huffed and chortled and carried on, I took Eve’s hand in my own and flashed her a little wink as I kissed the back of her knuckles.

“And that’s _precisely_ the reason why I’ll _never_ help you find a pair of glasses.” I said, chuckling a little as I turned back to MacCready. I noticed that Eve didn’t release my hand after I had taken it in my own but instead wound her fingers through mine and allowed it to drop to our sides. “So… how’ve things been shakin’, Mac?”

He shrugged carelessly, tipping his head down towards his shoulder in a clear gesture of nonchalance. “Eh, you know.”

I quirked my brow at him. “Well, you might have noticed that I’ve been a little out of the loop lately.” I tapped his arm with the flat of my hand, gesturing towards Cait and the three or four fellas she was chatting with. “Things fizzle out with you and Red?”

He rolled his eyes up towards the brim of his hat. “Never fizzled _on_ if you ask me. Was just that one night.” He took a moment to look annoyed, pushing his bottom lip out like a perturbed child. “You know what _I_ wouldn’t give to be on the receiving end of a pash like you just got?”

I hefted a long, over dramatic sigh, tilting my head from side to side as though weighing up my thoughts. “Well baby, all you had to do was ask. Commere.” I released my hold on Eve’s hand and used my own to scoop in behind MacCready’s neck, yanking him hard towards me with my lips puckered. MacCready’s eyes bugged from their sockets and he literally _shrieked_ in fright as his own palms came up to press to my face, keeping it from closing in any further.

“Get… _off of me,_ you disgusting old shuffler!!!” He yelled, lashing out with one of his arms and smacking and shoving at my chest in an effort to scare me away. I kept my grip for a few good seconds longer, just enough to put the mockers on him and then eased up enough so that he could escape. He gave me another few good slaps in way of parting, bouncing back until there was a nice, safe distance between us and then straightening his shirt irritably. His face was red and he looked tremendously flustered.

“Jesus… I don’t know how you thought _that_ would be a good idea, Eve.” He gave a visceral shudder. “ _Uh-yuck._ Like seeing a cats asshole coming straight for your face.”

Eve gave a casual little shrug, rubbing my arm to pacify me as I glowered at MacCready. “Well, as you all might recall I was actually _humped_ by a feral Ghoul. Being kissed by one ain’t nothin’ compared to _that._ ”

“Not that Mayor Hancock is by definition a _feral_ , Mum.” Codsworth clarified and I shot him a thumbs up as means of appreciation.

“Reckon he’ll be fitting the category once he gets Eve alone for five minutes.” MacCready muttered, raising both hands, slouching his face like a palsied stroke victim and moaning deliriously. I sighed and stared off into the distance.

“And to think I was actually starting to miss you cheeky bastards.” I grumbled, scratching at the side of my eye with my middle finger pointed in MacCready’s direction. “Last time I ever try to assuage _your_ feelings of jealousy with a welcome home kiss, ya ungrateful little prick.”

MacCready scrunched his nose at me in disbelief and blew a raspberry. “Like I’d want _your_ mildewy old swamp creature arms around me, Mayor… Assface.”

I offered him the smallest, most condescending of smiles. “Aww… that’s cute. Where did you come up with that one? During your constituency as Mayor of the Ankle-biters back in the Capital Wasteland?”

“Maybe.” MacCready grunted, earning another tired chortle from the group. They were all looking more than a bit worn out and overheated, so I decided to bring the meet and greet to a close as soon as possible. I managed to pry Curie out from her adoring throng of admirers long enough to give her a little hug; during which she informed me that Nick had warned her about my apparent philandering ways with single young ladies. Which I can’t suppose was entirely unfair of him… I had been something of a dog back… well, a year or so ago. But I assured Curie she had little to worry about. Which was reassuring to the massive throng of Neighborhood Watch boys who looked thrilled that I wasn’t going to serve as competition for the attentions of this beautiful French talking lady who had suddenly just swanned into town. Heh, if they only knew the history there.

Cait looked fairly distracted for the moment, so I returned to Eve’s side, feeling my smile snap back onto my face at the warmth in her eyes as I approached. She had lit up a cigarette whilst waiting for the others to finish signing in their weapons and offered it to me as I wandered back over. The cigarette was pinched between her index and middle finger and I noticed that both looked slightly swollen about the knuckles and a little more crooked than they ought to have done. I took the cigarette from her and then took her fingers in my remaining hand, bringing them up to my mouth and kissing the tips. Eve’s smile wavered a little. I knew that she knew what I was thinking about. How those fingers had become damaged in the first place. The dreadful pain that the both of us had shared. The tunnel into the light we had damn near travelled together…

I didn’t want to sour the mood with these repulsive thoughts and so I dragged my smile back up onto my face; reminding myself of just what was happening between Eve and myself and every delicious promise the future now offered up. I stole a puff from the cigarette, smirked and then gestured towards MacCready with a nod of my head.

“Poor kids still got it bad, huh?”

Eve sighed, tipping her head to the side and gently shaking it. Not truly annoyed but perhaps a little remorseful.

“Far be it from me to judge but I just wish the silly girl would let him off the hook already.” She muttered, reaching up through the cloud of smoke I had dispensed around my face and snatching my hat clear off of his head. She knew I hated anyone doing this but I think she also knew that she was one of the few people that I let get away with it. Especially now that we had kissed, I’m sure she realized that she had one up on me. I watched as she pulled it down over her head, reaching up to brush some stray strands of hair away from her eyes so that she could see clearly. I’m not sure if it was just because I was in a good mood or not but I thought she looked pretty darn sexy with the Tricorner on. Maybe it’s just a guy thing. You know, when a dame’s wearing something of yours you can’t help but think certain things might have transpired the night before… I felt a little stirring in my groin and took another puff from my cigarette to distract myself from it.

“I think Cait’s pretty clear in her own mind about not wanting anything serious.” Eve added, running her fingertip along the side of the hat and then tilting the foremost corner down to create a shadow over her face. I realized that she might just be getting hot from the sun and wanted to appropriate my hat for a bit of shelter. “I just don’t know if Mac is. Clear on where she’s coming from, I mean. Just one of those all too familiar cases of barking up the wrong tree.”

I shrugged, feeling like I could understand entirely where MacCready was coming from. “Well… it’s pretty hard for a guy to just turn off his feelings when he’s smitten with someone.” I gave Eve a knowing look and she smiled bashfully, offering up a little nod as she took my meaning on board.

“Yeah… I guess I haven’t really been much better myself.” She sighed, annoyed with herself I think and reached over to give my wrist a squeeze. “Sorry for… you know… being a dick.”

“You, a dick? _Never._ ” I replied, smiling to show that I was only teasing. I gestured to her arm with the cigarette before taking another puff from it. “How’s that hand of yours doing?”

Eve held up her right hand, bending each of the fingers in towards the palm and forming a fist. “Pretty good. Pinkie still catches from time to time but that’s about it. Now I’ll ask again; how’s that poor leg of yours doing? And don’t try and avoid talking about it by kissing me again, I won’t fall for that a second time!”

“Shame.” I murmured, giving her a suggestive look that made her face blush in the shadow that the hat cast upon her expression. I chuckled and leaned down to tap my fist to the brace beneath my trouser leg. “Healed up pretty nice, all things considered.” I demonstrated by doing a small kick off to the side, using a lunging motion that I think most folks immediately associated with me and me alone. As a rule of thumb, I always aimed for the knees of my opponents, never holding anything back as I drove the heel of my foot down. If done right, it nearly always crippled the bastards, preventing them from running away. The kick might have been a bit of a bad idea because my joints cracked together pitifully all the way up into my hip and pain shot through me from the pressure I put on the tight, still healing muscle. I swallowed back the complaint I might have otherwise muttered, not wanting Eve to know that I was hurting still. Shit would only worry her the more. “Doc reckons I’ll be back to kicking ass in a coupla weeks. Can’t come soon enough. I tell ya; it’s been a long few weeks of recoup, Munch. I’ve been goin’ fucking stir-crazy here without you around.”

“Aww, you poor dear. Had to play a few rounds of Red Menace, did you?” She chuckled, leaning down to brace her hand over my knee, twisting her palm from side to side gently. I could feel the cap creak tiredly, as though complaining about what I had just done to it. She lowered her hand then to my shin, where the worst of the injury had been and squeezed softly. I didn’t voice a complaint, though she must have been able to feel that the bone was still slightly crooked. I saw her eyes start to shine and knew that she was getting upset, no doubt thinking about how I had broken the leg in the first place so I got back to talking quick smart, wanting to distract her.

“Sister, I annihilated that game in one sitting. Not sure what I did to keep myself entertained after that. Pissed off everyone around me with my whining and moping, no doubt.” I smiled at her when she straightened up, looking as though she had managed to pull herself together somewhat. Her sweetness always made me feel weak and I reached out, placing my hand on the side of her head; a gesture which I myself didn’t entirely know how to interpret. It was at once nurturing and yet somehow… far from it. “Think I drove the whole town nuts… pinin’ after you.” My voice was low and breathy; this was not something I intended for the others to hear. “God… I still can’t… I can’t believe you came back to me. I mean, in time for Christmas and everything!” I gave out a happy little bark; marvelling at the irony and sighed as I cocked my head and stared into her eyes, caressing my thumb through the damp strands of her hair behind her ear. “It’s enough to make a Ghoul believe in holiday miracles and all that bull crap.”

Eve gave a breathless little chuckle, reaching up to clutch the side of my hand as she stared back at me with that deeper, loving expression we had formed between us only in the passing of a few minutes. “Well… you know I _was_ trying to get back here in time to spend Christmas with you. I mean… all of us together of course but without you…” She gave a little shrug and chuckled; seeming to mock herself. “I just… needed you with me, John. I guess that sounds kinda silly and… selfish but-”

I cut her off short with another kiss, pulling her up tight to me with the hand that I still held pressed to the side of her head. I had to flick away the last of the cigarette so that I could sink my free arm into the small of her back. I wanted to tug her in tighter to me still, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.

“No…” I whispered as our lips parted, her breaths pattering in and out as I continued to place small pecks there again and again. I wanted to speak with her, to help her understand but I could barely fight my way out of that wonderful, obliterating desire to continue kissing her. “No, _no_ darlin’ it doesn’t. It’s the best thing. It’s just what I’ve wanted to hear for so goddamn long.” I sighed. “God… feels like it’s been _forever_ since I held you…”

“It’s been a month I think, darl…” Eve whispered into my shoulder as I buried my face into the side of her head and kissed the shell of her ear. “I know what you mean though. It definitely feels like it’s been longer.”

I chuckled as I stroked the back of her head, simply enjoying the feel of her in my embrace. Even on a stinker of a day like this. “And here was me thinking I had left all my responsibilities behind for a while… But there are certain things a town needs its mayor to attend to, I guess.”

“Horrors all.” She said as she eased away, giving me a scolding little wink. “What, did you think you were just going to take off into the Wasteland without a care in the world and leave the town that you helped restore unsupervised?”

“I was hoping.” I replied, offering her back a sly smile. “Nice for a while just to shirk my duties and throw in with you. Here’s hoping you’ll have me back on board after all is said and done here. I’m as bored as a horny sailor in an antique shop.”

Eve laughed and gave me a casual little punch to the side of my arm. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

I laughed. “No, we can’t. I’m not known for my pleasant nature when I’m in a good mood, let alone a bored one. Still, now that my favourite girl is back in town… I’m guessing I won’t be finding myself bored for much longer.”

Eve flushed at my words but made every effort towards maintaining an unaffected demeanour. “Hey now, I thought that Daisy was your favourite girl? What is she going to say when she finds out you’re cheating on her?”

“Hey, a good mistress wouldn’t clue the wife in now would she?”

“Depends on what’s on offer.” Eve said with a sly smile. She leaned in close and bumped her hip against mine suggestively. “The _mistress_ wouldn’t say no to a diamond necklace and a pair of boots that don’t smell like something that just came out of a Brahmin.”

I chuckled and reached out to give her a cluck on the curve of her chin. “I think the _mistress_ might be having a lend of herself. And does the mistress really need to steal my hat as soon as she walks in the gate?”

Eve’s mouth dropped open in mock surprise. “But of _course!_ It’s only like the most terrific hat ever. And besides, it looks better on me, don’t you think?” She struck a pose, not dissimilar to Deacon’s only she intentionally exaggerated it to look even more ridiculous. I chuckled and gave my head a shake, thinking I’d be whipping my hat straight back off of her the first chance I got. I felt like the top of my head was about to get horribly sunburnt.

“Yeah well, ain’t much competition when one of us is a Ghoul, Munch.” I muttered, turning to see Cait finally extract herself from her conversation and strut over in our direction. “Well hey there, Red. You stayin’ out of trouble?”

Cait flashed a broad smile, eyes perpetually half-mast as she waved a hand leisurely in the air above her shoulder. “Oh aye. Too bad trouble has such a hard time staying out of _me_. Speaking of which, where’s _my_ hug, ya decrepit bastard?”

“Hey, you know I’d never forget about you, Cait. Bring it in.” I said, smiling as I extended my arms to her. She stepped into my embrace and returned it with a great deal more verve than all of the others in the group combined.

Twenty years ago, Cait would have been exactly the type of girl that I would have tripped all over myself chasing after. Feisty and flirtatious, she was a tough, no holds bar bombshell who could match me drink for drink, fight for fight and Chem for Chem. She had no qualms about sex either and had routinely hooked up with someone at each settlement we had all stayed in whilst travelling together. Including poor MacCready following the Rolling Ranch incident, which might not have been the most sensitive thinking on her part. Mac had a mighty crush on Cait and not the type that could simply be assuaged by a brief roll in the hay. Despite how good that roll might have been.

Most folks would have to agree that Cait was a good looking dame. The type that younger men would take notice of right away and go panting after. What I could now appreciate as an older fella was that there were aspects of her appearance which made you question as to whether she was entirely healthy or not. I could tell from the first moment I met her that she had a Psycho addiction. Her pupils were near constantly dilated and she was very thin; barely eating anything due to a repressed appetite. Though she had nice curved hips, her bones protruded sharply and her breasts were smaller because she simply didn’t possess enough body fat to fill them up. Not to mention the pale hue to her skin; Irish heritage or not, the nigh constant gray marks under her eyes and sallow cheeks. At a distance, she came together to present an alluring package but up close, you got a good idea that there was something not altogether right. Not that too many blokes seemed to care when she was that outwardly promiscuous. And I wouldn’t have been much different so many years back.

Eve clearly didn’t see it the same way that I did. She thought that Cait was the most beautiful creature that had ever walked the earth. When I challenged her on it, she had told me that Cait’s physical attributes and bone structure were exquisite and that in good health, she would be an unrivalled beauty.

 _“Just gotta fatten her up a bit.”_ She had said, flashing me a mischievous little smile that I found her very sweet for. _“Get her off that shit and eating right… catch a few rays, you know. She’s a precious little cutie. And someone will make her happy someday, mark my words.”_

Little did Eve know that it was _her_ who had made Cait happy. Despite all of Cait’s earlier tantrums, put downs and sometimes less than subtle abuses of Eve’s character, the two of them had become firm friends throughout their travels. Eve was, to the best of my knowledge, one of the very few people who Cait actually trusted. I think she loved her nearly just as much as I did and was just as protective of her as Dogmeat was.

She looked much healthier now than I had ever seen her before; her skin a little tanned from the sun and filled out around the eyes and cheeks. She’d gained some weight; noticeably around the breasts, which she had left to the general inspection of Goodneighbor by popping open the top button of her corset. Her pupils were the normal size and her eyes looked bright and alert; present in the moment for perhaps the first time I had ever seen. She murmured softly as she squeezed my shoulders and even the nuance of her voice spoke to me of a deeper feeling of peace. I felt her breath on my ear.

“’Bout fuckin’ time, dork.” She whispered softly and I chuckled appreciatively as I returned the squeeze to her upper back. “Don’t you go hurtin’ her either, Hancock. Or it’ll be me fist through your front teeth, got it?”

“Got it.” I smirked and patted her upper back with a little more oomph than I would have done Piper or Curie. “You pullin’ up okay?”

It was hard to continue revisiting that conversation with each person in the group; that moment where the shit from two months ago had to be briefly dragged out from under the bed, examined and then stuffed back out of sight. They would have already done this shtick over and over again with each other and were probably no doubt resenting me a little for dredging it up once more. But a guy couldn’t be a prick about that sort of shit. And besides, I actually cared to know if they were all recovering okay.

Cait sighed against my neck, her muscles falling the slightest bit lax but still retaining their grip about my shoulders.

“Been a long two months, handsome… Still havin’ a lotta nightmares. It helps though, knowin those pricks won’t he hurtin’ anyone else, yeah?”

I nodded into the crook of her collarbone, unconsciously thinking of the mark we both shared; burned deep within flesh and soul and now more purposeless than ever. A mark that would never again find its place upon innocence; would never designate a life to a fate worse than that of the very souls consigned to hell.

Perhaps that was the very reason I felt such peace in her eyes now. Perhaps, like me, a part of her heart that was forever in turmoil, could now rest easy.

“I hear ya, sister.” I whispered, putting a kiss to her cheek and giving her back another pat before easing out of the embrace. “I gotta say, nice to see you’ve put on a bit of weight. You balancing out those Chems with a bit of Eve’s grub occasionally?”

“Actually, I’ve gone clean now. Got my system stripped with a little help from the old girl.” Cait beamed, stepping back from my arms and leaning into Eve’s side, pressing her cheek to the older woman’s shoulder with genuine affection. Eve turned and smiled at her in response, ducking her head down to pop a few little nuzzling kisses against Cait’s forehead like a doting mother. “And I still might have a ways to go before I’m as big and brawny as this one but I guarantee ya that I ain’t never had any trouble layin’ anyone out in me life. Not in the ring _or_ in the bedroom.” She reached over, giving me a little tap on the chin with her fist. “Might find that out for yourself one day.”

I smiled and winked in return. “Maybe. Quart of whiskey, Jet inhaler and a little luck of the Irish on my side, I reckon I could have those boots as earrings before the sun comes up.”

Now, you might have thought me very bold to have been flirting with Cait and right in front of Eve no less but this was hardly the case at all. For one, Eve wasn’t the jealous type and despite the fact that she and I had only just kissed, I couldn’t imagine she was likely to come over all crazy and possessive and start shoving Cait and I into opposite ends of Goodneighbor in order to end our interaction. Indeed, she didn’t look at all concerned with our exchange and was instead just sort of glancing about with a disconcerted look on her face which said that she was really only worried about finding a drink.

And though Cait might have been the type of girl I’d gone nuts over in the past, she certainly wasn’t the type I was interested in pursuing now. Though only three years younger than Eve, she felt in contrast _much_ younger personality wise. She had too many problems of her own and was still sorting all of them out; still trying to find herself and come to terms with all the crap that life handed to her. I’d been through all that shit myself so many years ago and I wasn’t keen to revisit it and ease someone through their own turbulent transition.

And I was in love, of course. With a woman who made me very happy; who gave me a sense of peace but I could still have fun with. But someone who at days end, would have no qualms about being sweet to me and who I could cherish in return. This was the reality and something that could not be altered by the odd flirtation.

A flirtation, mind you, that was hardly exclusive to me and me alone. Cait flirted with anything that had so much as a hint, artificial or not, of testosterone. Actually, that would suggest that she didn’t occasionally flirt with women. Eve and Piper both got a fair whack of the teasing. Curie had managed to successfully evade Cait by responding far too enthusiastically to the flirting. A backfire, if you will.

Cait had a good laugh at my expense with this statement. “Oi, with just a quart of whiskey the only ‘lucky charms’ you’ll be seeing at this rate are your own, Hancock! At least buy a girl dinner if ya planning on liquoring her up and taking advantage. I don’t put out for anything less than a Radstag Ragout.”

I took another puff of Eve’s cigarette before handing it back to her. Eve took it, dragged another puff and continued glancing about, licking her lips as though hoping a drink would magically land in her arms.

“Radstag? Oh please, missy, I wouldn’t even need ta buy you a drink to get you to-” I made a good effort at emulating her thick foreign accent. “-‘pitch them knickers’. All I have to do is put on my charm-”

Cait barked out a laugh. “Put on your _charm_? Give me a break, you would have to put on a _mask_ for me to want to bang you without even one stiff drink in me first. That or pay me a shit ton of caps.”

I snorted a little, taking Eve’s smoke back off of her and dragging in another puff. “I ain’t never paid for it girlie and you sure as shit ain’t gonna be the first.”

Cait glanced towards the ground, shrugging her shoulders. “Well, all right then.” She murmured, spinning in a full circle like a ceramic figure in a jewellery box before bestowing a hard slap to her pert backside. She _was_ looking a whole lot better now with that extra bit of oomph in her walkaway. “You only get to miss out on _aaaalll_ of this good stuff, handsome”

“Yeah, well I’d be happy to show you what ‘good stuff’ you’d be missing out on but it ain’t polite to drop your pants in public.”

Someone cleared their voice from nearby and I turned my head to see Eve smiling at the two of us, though with a slightly strained expression that suggested she might not have wanted us to go any further with our little exchange. She continued however, to take it in good humor.

“Okay children,” She said, holding up both hands as though fending off someone with a spotlight shining directly at her forehead. “If I realized you two flirts were gonna get this hot and steamy for your reunion I would’ve booked ahead for a room at the Hotel Rexford so you could have some privacy and spare the rest of us the associated heatstroke.”

Cait chuckled a little meanly to herself as she lit up her own cigarette and exhumed a long, slow line of smoke into the air over Eve’s shoulder.

“Oh ho… look here now. I think we might be making Evie jealous.”

“Not that _she’s_ one to talk about getting all hot and steamy for a reunion.” I countered, smirking as I stepped over to Eve and reached up to whip my hat back off of her head. She flushed a little as I ducked my head to kiss the shell of her ear, before sliding the hat back on and turning to address the others. “Hey, you all gotta be knackered after the day you’ve had. What say we go sort your lodgings out? You can put your feet up; have a drink and a feed.”

“Yeah, I think we know exactly what _you’d_ like to be feeding on.” MacCready muttered, in a way that I think was supposed to be offhand but he wasn’t nearly as quiet as he should have been. Just about everyone heard and he got a very offended ‘ _Robert Joseph!!’_ from Eve, who made every conceivable effort to _not_ look like she was blushing as she lobbed him around the ear with her hand.

“Well, we figured we’d go and check into the Hotel Rexford.” Nick commented, as the group all gathered up their belongings; MacCready rubbing his bruised lobe all the while. He himself took on the extra responsibility of rescuing Curie from her group of admirers, who all moaned and carried on as she was led away by the arms. “There’s enough bedding between us to make those who need to take a rest more comfortable.”

I curled my lip at the suggestion. “Ah, you don’t need to be worrying with any of that. Got the attic area of the Statehouse all kitted out for guests now. You can all come and sack out with me. No charge.”

Piper lifted one of her dark brows delicately, more curious than concerned it seemed. Which had to be an improvement. “Really? Sleeping over in the mayors’ house?”

“Hey _mi casa su casa._ ” I said warmly, turning to Eve and gently tapping the side of her hand with my own. She took the bait, smiling as she pressed her palm to mine; sliding and wending our fingers together. Even though it was warm, I liked the feeling of holding hands with her. It was weirdly intimate and somehow came far too easily for the two of us. “Come on. We’ve been making a lot of changes around these parts. Might find yourselves pleasantly surprised by the digs.”

After stuffing all their assorted weaponry back into their bags, the guys all got their shit together and followed me up the stairs and into the Statehouse. I shot a quick wave over my shoulder at Meyer, who was trotting off down the alleyway to deliver the flowers to Meaghan at the shop. He flashed a smile and gave a wave of the axe before disappearing around the corner. He looked genuinely pleased and I do think he actually felt happy for me.

I felt happy for myself. I couldn’t stop smiling at Eve; who looked both pretty and sleepy in the afternoon light. I took her bag up in my spare hand and carried it for her; unsurprised to find that the fucking thing weighed a veritable tonne. Girl was always picking up and storing crap that she didn’t need. Or getting conned into shit she didn’t need; one or the other.

“Another charge card in here?” I muttered as I managed to lug it inside the doorway and into the foyer beyond. The air was muggier inside, though not as stifling as it once might have been with all the windows shut and boarded over. Eve glared at me from the corner of her eyes.

“No, _actually._ Just some…” She gave an uncertain little roll of her shoulders. “Rare and interesting artefacts that I’m quite certain will be worth their weight in caps. Or at least… help pay for the physical therapy that’ll be required to realign my fucking spine from having lugged them across the Commonwealth.”

I shook my head at her and rolled my eyes. “Well then sell some of it to Daisy before you go and end up crippling yourself, dorkball.”

She might have gotten into it with me then but she was distracted by the changes to the Statehouse. She and the others looked around, making soft noises of appreciation which I couldn’t help but feel a little haughty over. MacCready whistled in approval and it echoed all the way up the sunlit stairwell.

“Hey, it’s looking pretty good in here.” He said, sounding more surprised than I wish had been possible. To be fair, it had been a certifiable dark and smelly near-wreck before.

“Yeah, looks like someone actually swept the floor.” Piper commented, scuffing the toe of her boot against the floorboards as though looking for any sort of evidence of dust. Having found none, she shielded her eyes from the glare and gazed up the spiral staircase. “It doesn’t seem quite as dark either…”

“Well, that’s because we took the boards off of the windows and replaced the glass. You can get a better look from upstairs.” I said, squeezing Eve’s hand and then gesturing towards the stairwell. Instead of leading them upstairs however, I got them to follow me down in the basement area where I led them to the communal bathroom. I knocked on the outside of one of the sliding doors to check no one was inside first, before pulling them apart and gesturing inside. “Here’s another of our little improvements. When you’ve settled in, you can come down here and wash up. Got two washers off in the right hand adjournment too; if you’re needing to get some of your clothes clean.”

Codsworth let out a loud mechanical gasp as he floated into the room and swivelled his eye sockets in all directions at once. “My word! A team of Mr Handy’s couldn’t have done a better job! Why it’s hardly recognizable as the same room!”

Curie’s gasp was almost as loud as his own, as she too trotted directly into the shower bay; gazing at the repaired tiled floors and walls, shining and free from mould. Some condensation still clung to the mid room wall closest to us; evidence of someone’s earlier use of the showers.

“ _Mon deu!_ It is so clean and sterile!” The little Synth enthused, crouching and running one of her fingers and then her palm over the floor. She examined it for any evidence of build-up and satisfied that none was present, pushed herself back to her feet. “Why I would feel quite confident in performing an operation on this shower floor!”

I pulled a face, uncertain of the intelligence of that idea. “Um… don’t think I’d recommend that, doc. Lotta Ghoul feet been traipsing through there. But you gotta admit; damn sight better than it used to be.”

Cait nodded as she ducked her head around the mid room wall, apparently checking to see if anyone might have been standing in the shower section and simply remaining quiet whilst we visited. Having assured herself that there was no one to perve on, she appeared around the other side; fluffing her hair up in what I took to be disappointment.

“Not bad, Hancock.” She said. “I’d actually feel comfortable taking a shower in here now.”

Piper gave me a sidelong look; almost a little suspicious. “Don’t reckon the Institute would have done a better job.”

I groaned and rubbed the back of my neck with my free hand. “Don’t get started with that shit. Already had a few of the Drifters fronting up; wondering why I was making all these changes. Ain’t got nothin’ ta do with being swapped around.”

Deacon chuckled to himself as he trotted off towards the toilet stalls; most likely to make use of one whilst we were visiting the amenities.

“Yeah… I’m thinking you’ve got _other_ more compelling reasons for prettying your home up.” He said, lowering his glasses to flash me a wink before disappearing behind one of the repaired stall doors. I shrugged, unashamed.

“A couple.” I confessed, glancing down at Eve who had been quiet for much of the time but remaining steadfastly attached to my hand whilst gazing about the room. Her expression was temperate as usual and didn’t give much away. I lowered my voice, concerned however that something might have been the matter. “So… what do you think?”

She turned towards the sound of my voice and her face immediately lifted into a smile, which stretched then into a wide, Yao Guai like yawn. Relief flooded my chest as I realized that she simply must have been tired. And probably thinking about sitting down and having a drink. She usually got a bit introspective when she was due for a rest. And a beverage.

“It looks lovely, John.” She stated once she had finished yawning, giving my hand a squeeze before reaching out with her own to trail her bent fingers down the wall. “Very squeaky clean and shiny. I’ll have to pop down later and wash up.”

I tried not to let my brain get carried away with the thought of this. Play my cards right and I might be lucky enough to see it for real if I didn’t screw anything up.

“Well, you think it looks schmick in here. You should see what we’ve managed to pull together upstairs.”

Nick, who had been walking about the room and inspecting every angle of it with the practiced, albeit mechanical eye of a true blue detective, now turned to me and crooked one of his brow ridges in genuine puzzlement. And not without a hint of the earlier suspicion that I had seen in Piper’s face.

“Are _you_ the one doing all the cleaning around here, Hancock?” He asked and I hated that he sounded so unconvinced of that fact. As though there wasn’t a Devils fart of a chance that I might have been able to run a scrub brush across a surface. “Because if that’s the case, I can’t say I blame the folks who think you might have been swapped out for a Synth.”

I groaned loudly and with obvious annoyance, not willing to play into that kind of nitty picky bullshit. But Piper, I could see, looked all the more convinced by Nick’s statement and approached me with one hand pinched to her chin curiously.

“Hey, you can’t deny it would be a clever ploy…” She said, gesturing towards Eve who herself looked the slightest bit concerned that she might have been sucking face with a robot replacement of me instead of the real John Hancock. Her hand didn’t loosen on mine but she did narrow her eyes at me as though trying to peer through the cracks in my skin and see through to the exposed wires beneath. “With Eve steam rolling the way she is towards the Institute, it would make sense to swap out the person she was closest with and replace him with a spy. One who apparently enjoys cleaning _way_ too much.”

I grumbled, rolling my head back on my neck so that my hat nearly dislodged and fell off onto the squeaky clean floor. “I _don’t_ enjoy cleaning _at all_. I’ve hired a few folks who came in from Underworld in the DC area. They wanted work in town, they were good at this sort of thing, so we came to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Eve gave a light hearted little chuckle and waved her hand comfortingly at the others. “Hey, it’s all good. I’ve got a way to check.” She directed her smile up towards me now and I could have told her just about anything she asked to hear. “Remember way back when the phrase that we agreed on to check whether either of us had been replaced by a Synth? What was it?”

I chuckled in acknowledgment as I raised the hand that she held clutched to my own and turned it so that it faced palm up. Using my pinkie finger, I scrawled the word ‘ _Cauliflower’_ into her palm; which was a vegetable that she associated with a lot of weird memories from her former life. It certainly wasn’t a word that any average Jo, or Synth off of the street was likely to know and one that the both of us had agreed we would die retaining the knowledge of, so as to prevent the other from being taken advantage of by the Institute and their cruelty.

Eve chortled a little at the tickling sensation and the muscles in her face relaxed all the more to see that I had gotten the word correct. (Spelling and all). She gazed up at me again with her big beaming green eyes, took my own hand and put it to her lips. She kissed the arch of my fingers and then winked at the others.

“You can relax. This is one hundred percent genuine Hancock.” She said, reaching around with my other hand and giving me a few hefty pats to the rump. I slipped my fingers back between her own and gave her knuckles a kiss.

“Damn straight it is, darlin’.”

Cait rolled her eyes as in the background a toilet flushed and Deacon reappeared with a trail of bog paper fluttering behind him like some sort of cheap facsimile of the Silver Shrouds scarf.

“That’s him, all right. No way a Synth could replicate that much disgusting schmooze. They’d short circuit from all the fluff clogging up their circuits.”

“What?” I sniffed. “You jealous?”

The others chuckled lightly at this and even more so to see Deacon make his way back over with the toilet paper trailing along in accompaniment. He was aware of it, of course. But like he had told me once; anything for a laugh.

“You and the Brahmin you rode in on, buddy.” Cait grumbled, following along behind as we all made our way out of the bathroom. I took a moment to show them how the plaque system worked outside the door; sliding to one direction indicated that the shower area was occupied by women, whilst sliding it the other way indicated that it was occupied by men.

“If you’re in there getting busy with someone, just slide the plaque out and set it on top of the border, like this.” I said, pulling the plaque free and perching it directly on top of the frame. “Don’t got a lock inside yet unfortunately. Not until we get a few more toilets around the Statehouse. For now, folks have gotta learn ta share and be respectful of each other.” I crooked up a finger as I slid the plaque back into place; aligning it in the centre to show that that the bathroom was currently vacant. “Also; keep in mind we got some water shortages due to the heat wave we’re currently experiencing. Not to mention all the people that’ve arrived for the Fete and for the town renovations. So, try and be considerate and not shower for a million years. I’d suggest showering in groups. All you girls together and all you fella’s.”

MacCready and Deacon flashed looks at one another, curled their lips and uttered ‘ _Ewww’_ in unison. They clearly weren’t turned on to the idea of having to stand side by side, soaping themselves whilst trying to avoid catching glimpses of each other’s dicks. Which seemed a pretty spoilt fucking mindset; given that most of the Neighborhood Watch guys had to shower together during the odd occasion. But I guess not everyone is as secure as us Goodneighbor boys.

“Can’t we just shower with the girls instead?” Deacon asked, with MacCready turning towards me bright eyed and nodding his head agreeably.

“That seems like the most responsible idea. And would certainly save a great deal more water than if groups of people were to shower separately due to outdated conservative reservations of gender segregation.” Codsworth reinforced, which only included him in the round of offended and grossed out slaps extended by Piper. Eve and Cait actually looked amenable to the idea, though Eve frowned and pretended to be on board with Piper when the other woman grumbled to her about the ‘perverted boys’. Behind her back, she heaved a big sad sigh and slumped her shoulders in disappointment. I laughed as I took her hand again, leading the others back towards the stairwell and marching up past the ground floor and into the second story.

“Well, you lot must be ready to either sack out, freshen up or feed your faces. And I’m not just saying that because I’d like you all to piss off and leave me alone with Munch. So feel free to head upstairs and make yourselves at home.” We cleared the stairwell and I gestured towards a group of adjacent stairs that headed up and around the corner to the right. “You can use the room on the very far right of the attic. Got some single beds set up in there. Or there are the standing cots in the main room.”

MacCready cocked his head at me and frowned. “Standing _cots_? Don’t tell me you’ve gone and converted the major area upstairs into a fu-ruddy nursery? _That_ I’m gonna find damn bloody hard to believe! Not to mention that we’re not all stumpy asses like you. We wouldn’t all be able to fit in a cot.”

Cait sighed, hefting her bag up higher on her shoulders. “Not cots like _baby_ cots, ya goit. Beds on wire frames, kinda like old military style I’m guessin’?” She looked to me for confirmation and I gave a little nod of my head. “Bit more luxury than we’d be gettin’ at the Hotel Rexford from the sounds of things.”

Piper breathed in, her nostrils flaring as she sniffed the air. “Hate to admit it… but the place even _smells_ better.”

“Been askin’ folks to smoke outside. Or out the windows, one or the other. Bit annoyin’ for the boys but that’s the price ya gotta pay to get that musty old shit stink outta here. Not ta mention all the cigarette butts they were leavin’ on the floor.” I gestured once more the stairwell leading into the attic area; seconds away from literally grabbing the dawdling bunch by the elbows and hurling them up there myself. “ _Anyway_ , feel free to go and pitch your stuff.” I held tighter to Eve’s hand, my heart thumping harder in my chest as I glanced down towards her, lowering my voice so as to try and keep the others from pricking their ears up. “Unless you’d um… like to… share with me, Munch?”

Shouldn’t have surprised me of course that MacCready heard. Guy was too good at picking up on information that might not have been intended to have been heard by him in the first place. He smirked naturally, because he loved to have a bit of a jab at me here and there and raised his hand in a classic gesture of ‘Stop’.

“Whoa, Hancock slow it down there. She let you kiss her; I don’t think you need to start rushin’ her between the sheets just yet.”

I growled a little, tilting my head towards him with what most folks clearly understood to be a warning look. If I could have flashed him with radiation like Jack was capable of, I might very well have done. “Hey Mac, isn’t there somewhere else you should be right now? Like, I don’t know; the Glowing Sea, perhaps? Under the back hooves of a stampeding Brahmin? Back in the Capital Wasteland mooching around a Cave?”

Eve chuckled as she stood on her tip-toes to deliver a stage whisper into my ear. “I think he’s just jealous you don’t want to share with _him_.”

MacCready turned and snapped at her. “I am _not_ ‘effing _jealous_ , Evie! I was just trying to watch out for _you_ and this is the thanks I get?!”

Eve tilted her head, giving him a bored look. “Well, thankyou for the thought, Robert but I am in fact a grown lady with a fully functioning brain. Entirely capable of making safe informed decisions for myself.” She petted my chest. “Besides, John and I have already shared the same bed in the past.”

Cait gave us both a smug look and crossed her arms over her chest. “And here you were trying to tell us that the two of you weren’t shaggin’, Eve.”

“Believe me; if we had been ‘shaggin’ before now I wouldn’t be nearly half as keen to get rid of all of you.” I mumbled, narrowing my eyes and flapping my arm irritably at the stairs once more. Eve gave a slight smile as she smacked the back of her hand to my stomach, uttering ‘ _Shoosh’_ as she did.

Cait sighed and shook her head at Eve in a reproachful fashion. “Evie… that is just fucking _cruel_ sharing a bed with a guy who likes you and not even bothering putting out. I don’t know how you didn’t go ballistic and just pounce on her, Hancock.”

“Thought crossed my mind a few times.”

“ _But,”_ Eve interjected, cheeks flushing as she waved her finger at both Cait and myself; encouraging us to be quiet. _“_ Fortunately for everyone involved, John was a near perfect gentleman.”

I cocked my brow at her. “What do you mean by ‘near’ perfect?”

She snorted and frowned at me. “A perfect gentleman would have left the room to fart.”

I gasped. “How dare you even suggest such a thing! You know perfectly well that I don’t fart.”

“Oh bull _shit_ you don’t fart!”

I used my fingertips to brush off the lapels of my shirt in a very dignified manner. “It’s common knowledge that important public figures do not fart.” I listed off on each of my fingers. “Politicians do not fart, radio hosts do not fart… Brotherhood of Steel probably _can’t_ fart because they’re ass checks are clenched too god damned tight…”

Deacon’s brows arched above his glasses. “Though they probably wouldn’t _want_ to… considering they’re stuck inside those big tin cans all the time. Yuck.”

Eve laughed at this. “Right, I think see how it works. Bet you don’t go to the toilet anymore either.”

“Absolutely not.” I said, shaking my head seriously. “That would make me far too human.”

Piper glanced over her shoulder, lifting her brow humorously. “Except for that time we all got diarrhoea from the canned meat.”

“And nearly shat ourselves to death.” MacCready interjected.

“ _And_ became accidental cannibals.” Deacon added, causing the whole lot of us (excluding Nick, Curie Codsworth and Dogmeat) to clutch our stomachs, moan and try to project our feelings into a metaphorical no mans land where the memory of this revolting happenstance could no longer reach us.

Curie, who had not been travelling with us at the time of this… unfortunate ‘incident’, cocked her head curiously and lowered her bag to the floor; most likely considering going for her clipboard. “Fascinating. If you don’t mind my asking, ‘ow does one become an ‘accidental cannibal’, Monsieur Deacon?”

Deacon responded with an enthusiasm that suggested he actually enjoyed the retelling of the story; never mind how much it repulsed the rest of us.

“Well, it most usually happens when human meat accidentally and unknowingly gets inside of your digestive system. Funny story-”

Eve lashed a hand into the air, the other continuing to clutch her stomach as she bent so dramatically at the waist it looked as though she were in fact trying to hold her upper and lower torso together. Her lips were twisted in completely opposite directions; which seemed a fitting physical representation of her feelings.

“ _Please,_ ” She groaned, whipping her hand urgently at Deacon before returning it to her midsection. “It’s _not_ a funny story and I don’t even wanna _think_ about that time again. I still have nightmares about it.”

Cait, who looked disturbed by the story but not nearly so crippled as Eve by it, actually managed a laugh. “Which one? The accidental cannibalism, or the shitting and vomiting ourselves to death out in the middle of the Wasteland?”

Eve groaned, her wavy hair hanging about the sides of her face as she dry heaved in the direction of the floor. “Either. _Both_. Two sides of the same horrible fucking messed up coin.” She sighed and straightened up, brushing her hair back and then turning to glance in my direction. She managed to contort her lips back into the semblance of a pleasant smile, for which I was grateful. “In any event, given that you have _apparently_ foregone the human need to regularly expel gas from your digestive track, I can’t think of many reasons why we couldn’t share a bed. Given… recent circumstances.”

I couldn’t keep the ridiculous grin from exploding across my face and my skin flushed hot as I immediately thought of all the possibilities that would transpire between the two of us now we would be sharing the same bed. What all those accidental little touches might develop into… And more than that; the chance to simply hold her to me, nestle in and snooze in the peace and contentment I could only seem to acquire these days whilst resting in her presence.

“Awesome.” I murmured, giving her hand another tight squeeze whilst beaming down into her eyes. It seemed like such a lazy, insubstantial way to convey my feelings to her but I didn’t let it bother me too much. There would be plenty of time in that duvet for me to show her exactly how much she meant to me. With _so_ many differing variations to the theme.

Eve’s sweet smile slackened a little and her brows furrowed in as she groaned; having apparently thought of something that didn’t altogether appeal to her.

“Oh God… you’re not still… sacked out on the floor on that horrible, yucky single mattress are you? Because if the answer is yes, I’m marching straight back upstairs and sharing whatever Dogmeat will end up sleeping on.”

Piper gave Eve a curious, almost shocked look. “What, Dogmeat’s not gonna sleep in the same room as you guys?”

Eve titled her head in Piper’s direction; raising her brows dubiously. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea…”

Neither did I. Given how Dogmeat quite obviously felt about me, I wasn’t sure that I could trust him to not savage my genitalia the second I sacked out.

MacCready’s eyes widened. “Imagine what sorta sick shit the pooch would be exposed to. He’d need to go to doggy therapy afterwards.”

“It’s quite all right, Evelyn.” Nick assuaged, smiling as he fanned his metallic hand from side to side. “I’ll keep Dogmeat with me so the two of you can have some time together. I’m sure the old dog’ll understand.”

Dogmeat growled, showing that he did indeed fully understand and didn’t much like it. I gave him a smarmy look, sticking my thumb to the apex of my nasal cavity and waggling my fingers at him in the age old ‘Nah, nah’ gesture. His growl turned into a bark and he stomped his front foot at me. I jerked my hand back to my side as Eve swung her head around to look at me. I smiled as innocently as was possible but she didn’t seem convinced and I got another smack to the guts for my efforts.

“I was only really thinking he’d need to be with you of an evening, Nick.” She said, casting a guilty look at Dogmeat who did his utmost to try and make her feel bad about wanting to spend some time with me. His ears went back and he hung his head, whimpering softly in the apex of his throat. Eve’s bottom lip wobbled tellingly and she looked directly on the verge of caving. “I mean… during the day it’s not going to be a problem to have him around but…”

I groaned, rolling my eyes back in my skull. “Oh for the love of… Eve that dog has gotten you all to himself for a whole _month._ I’m _sure_ he’ll survive being apart from you from _one night_. I managed for thirty.”

Although to say that I ‘managed’ was perhaps giving me too much credit. I think I probably whined and whinged and howled as much as Dogmeat for the first week. Then I just started drinking and Chemming the feelings away. But Eve didn’t need to know that.

Eve chuckled softly, cupping her hand under my chin and giving me a little squeeze. “Sounds like Dogmeat’s not the _only_ one getting jealous around here.” She teased. Her fingers stroked down my chin, her thumb caressing the indent beneath my bottom lip before drifting back down to pat to my chest. “Thankyou, Nick. I think it would probably be for the best. Otherwise Dogmeat’ll start crawling all over me and then Hancock’ll start crawling all over me and it’ll probably end with the two of them biting each other’s throats out or… scent marking me or something, I don’t know.”

“Just so long as you realize that I only piss on you out of love.” I said, rubbing the back of her fingers with my own. The room got very quiet all of a sudden and I wondered why until I realized what I had just said. I might have occasionally used the ‘L’ word in a throwaway reference here and there in the past, but it certainly hadn’t followed on from me kissing Eve. Cait and Deacon were quite aware as to just how deeply I cared for Eve but for most of the others, including Eve herself, the mention of love might have perhaps come at a rather awkward time. I did my best to move on past it, gibbering over my words like a raving fool. “Hey and we all know that Dogmeat’s always gonna take top billing in your life. I ain’t gonna try and compete with that. Just so long as he gets that it’s a… different kind of affection you can expect from me.”

Cait wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Uh, I don’t know about that. I’ve seen Evie kiss that dirty little molerat on the mouth before.”

Eve shrugged unashamedly. “I use slightly less tongue than I did with John though.”

“Only _slightly?_ ” Piper said, laughing as I made a point of pulling a face and wiping at my tongue with the side of my finger.

“Great. I’ve only been kissing a mouth that’s been kissing a dogs mouth, which has probably been kissing its own asshole.”

Eve narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips in a suitably conceited gesture. “Well, if you’ve got a problem kissing me on the mouth, there are plenty of other places you can kiss instead.”

Everyone went quiet once again, staring questioningly at Eve who didn’t seem to at all realize quite what she had just said. She noticed everyone’s looks and then turned to glance at me as I smirked and winked suggestively. She quickly cottoned on at that point, reviewing her earlier sentence mentally I think and realizing just how risqué it had sounded. Her mouth dropped open and she shook her head as though trying to whip away an irksome fly.

“That wasn’t supposed to sound like that! It was supposed to be a jab - I was pretty much suggesting you could kiss my _ass_ , not my-” She moaned bashfully, letting go of my hand to reach up and press both to her pink cheeks. “Oh my god, I’m blushing _so_ bad now. _Please_ if anyone’s visualizing _anything_ put it out of your minds right now!”

It was far too late to keep _me_ from dreaming something up. As soon as she had spoken, I already had an image pop into my head of her stretched out naked and glistening on my bed; squirming as I buried my face between her thighs and kissed and sucked at her sweet, dripping centre. It must have been obvious that I was enjoying the visualization too because Eve gave me a sharp smack to the side of the jaw again; batting the big dopey smile right off of my face.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?!”

“Well you made me.” I grumbled, annoyed because I’d lost my concentration. Eve sighed, giving me a rather scolding look as she reached down to pick up her bag from where I’d dropped it.

“Okay, well _now_ that I’ve gone and made myself look like even _more_ of a goober than I usually do, I’m going to take this opportunity to go and hit the can and freshen up a little.” She said, wriggling and jiggling about as she tried to hurl her bag onto her back. I reached over to adjust the straps for her, like I always used to do when we were travelling together and her eyes softened immediately; remembering. She smiled gratefully and leaned up to plant a kiss to my mouth. “Be back in a flash. I’ll… meet you inside, huh?”

“Sure.” I murmured back, running my fingers over her shoulder and giving her a quick peck to the forehead. “Take your time… I’ll have a drink waiting for you.”

“Oh. Music to my ears.” She teased, turning and hopping back down the stairs; her pack bouncing against her spine as she went. I admired the way her tight jeans clung to the curves of her ass as she walked. They weren’t the type of pants that she normally wore whilst out wandering the Wastes as she disliked anything that restricted the movement of her legs too much. I wandered if she might have put them on because she was coming here to Goodneighbor… to me.

I finally managed to steer the others up the stairs; most of them cajoling and having a little fun at my expense. One or two of them might have gotten a boot in the backside for the efforts but I thought this showed a great deal of patience on my part. I mean, Jesus, take a hint already. I’d been a gracious enough host and taken plenty of time showing them the amenities, shooting the shit and checking on all their welfare. Now I needed some time alone with Eve to knuckle through… whatever it was that was going on between us. Didn’t seem too much to ask for, now did it?

I did grant them one last service in telling them about the fridge in the main office area; where they could grab a cold drink if they needed but advised they’d need to snuffle out their own food elsewhere. Then I all but hurtled back down the stairs as fast my lame leg could take me before any of them could try and drag me back into any pointless asinine conversation that I would only be listening to out of politeness sake. Or Dogmeat attempted to savage me again, one or the other.

Don’t get me wrong; I still cared about the annoying, remorseless, malingering bastards. I just didn’t care much for them right _then._ There would be plenty of time to catch up over Christmas. All I wanted right then and there was to pull myself together, grab Eve and I a drink and just _be_ with her and _only_ her for a while.

Once I had made my way back onto the main landing, I trotted over to the bedroom, flashing Jack a cheerful smile as I went. He winked at me in turn; having seen for himself just what had occurred outside and murmured ‘Good on ya, boss’. I pushed open the double doors and swept in, feeling a flash of annoyance to see Fahrenheit sifting through some papers on the coffee table. She glanced up as she heard me enter the room and then turned back to what she was doing with disinterested sort of huff.

“Well, congrats, I guess.”

I scoffed, feeling rather more impatient than usual as I made my way across the room and knelt down by the credenza. I used my handkerchief to wipe the lipstick stains away from my mouth. “Do try and say it like you mean it, Fahrenheit.”

“Would if I did.” I heard a fluttering, snapping sound as she tossed a magazine aside from what I could gather. “You can relax. I’ll be out of your way just as soon as I put my hands to that fucking fete schedule you absconded with the other night. Then you and little Miss Vault prude can suck face ‘til your hearts content.”

“Good.” I said, refusing to rise to her bait. She was giving attitude again, for whatever reason and I wasn’t going to let her go and ruin my good mood simply because she was in a shitty one. “Saves me having to toss you out off of the veranda by the scruff of the neck.”

Having cleaned up my face, I switched on the radio to Diamond City’s station and trotted over to the amenities cabinet. I eased the wooden door open and took out one of the wine glasses I had purchased from a Montreal trader just a few days earlier. It had trails of liquid blue leeched throughout the glass and had apparently been made in a kiln that the trader himself built back in his home country. Eve had once made a comment about how weird it felt to drink wine from a mug; though she hadn’t truly been complaining so much as remarking in general. As soon as I saw these uniquely styled glasses, in that very same blue that she liked so much, I knew I would have to get them for her.

They went perfectly with the bottle of white wine that I had been storing in the mini-bar; another sampling from the cold country up north. I caught a whiff of a berry like aroma as I poured a big generous helping into the glass; admiring the near translucent color of the wine. Most wines I had seen in the commonwealth were either red or purple in color; being derived from fruits such as tarberries and Mutfruit or a yellowy hue, derived mainly from carrots, surprisingly enough. But this wine, which had been brewed and bottled up north, was made from a different kind of fruit; one that, so far as I knew, did not grow in the Commonwealth. I was bursting with eagerness to see how Eve would take to it.

When I had finished filling the glass, I gestured to Fahrenheit with the open rim of the bottle before screwing the cap back onto it. “Forms by the bedside table. Take it and make like a tree, huh?”

Fahrenheit snorted, giving a rather obvious roll of her eyes as she strode across the room towards the bed. “Oh trust me, I have no desire to hang around and watch you two idiots try and make it.” She just about upended my lamp onto the floor, such was her irritation in snatching up that coy little form which had evaded her for all of three or so minutes. “Jesus, be like watching a couple of fucking fourteen year olds fumbling around behind the bike shed, trying to figure out where all the bits and pieces go.”

I chuckled as I tightened the cap to the top of the wine and slid it back into its nook inside of the fridge. “Oh, I’m sure it’ll all come back to me…” I said suggestively, making a ‘V’ out of my middle and index finger and placing them to either side of my mouth; sliding my tongue out into the gap I had created. Fahrenheit chuckled at my optimism and then followed it up with a groan as though losing all hope.

“Please… you reckon that little vanilla cupcake is gonna let you anywhere near her hunk of preserved cherry pie?” She checked the form over briefly and had a little laugh to herself. “You’d be lucky to get her knickers off before she got spooked and dove for cover like a scared Molerat.”

I sighed, rapidly losing patience as I flicked my fingers towards the door. “Yes, yes, _off you go, Fahrenheit._ ”

She continued laughing as she turned to face me, walking backwards towards the door and holding a cupped hand towards her mouth. She used her tongue to push the side of her cheek out, jabbing the fist into the corner of her lips to emulate someone performing oral sex.

“I bet the little princess doesn’t even know how to suck dick. Gal’s probably too squeamish to get her mouth around someone’s cock.”

“Actually,” drawled an amused sounding voice from the doorway and I glanced up to see Eve leaning casually against the frame and smiling at Fahrenheit so pleasantly you would think that the two of them were firm friends. “Not to toot my own horn but my husband used to say that I could suck a golf ball up a garden hose.”

She gave a proud waggle of her eyebrows, not looking at all offended by Fahrenheit’s mouthing off. Fahrenheit, to her credit, also didn’t bother with trying to cover up her disparaging comments and simply observed Eve with what I took to be a burbling hint of annoyance.

It was always interesting to compare them because they were as much a contradiction in physicality as they were in personality. Eve, who was sensitive, soft-hearted and nurturing, was big and broad and busty, with firm strong proportions. Fahrenheit who was cool, condescending and unflappable, was slender of build, long and lean, though perhaps an inch or two shorter. Their facial features were the only true indicator of their actual personalities; with Eve’s naturally upturned eyes, smiley mouth and dopey disposition in direct contrast to Fahrenheit’s serious downturned lips, eyes and imperturbable countenance.

I know there were a lot of fellas in the Neighborhood Watch who would have paid good caps to watch the two of ‘em go at it… in a physical fight, I mean. Though Fahrenheit was indisputably more of a wildcat in her technique, Eve was surprisingly ferocious herself when she had a head of steam up and much bigger and stronger to boot. It took her a lot to get worked up though and I doubted she would have ever found a reason to direct her temper towards Fahrenheit. She was my bodyguard, for one and my friend for another. I know Eve well enough to understand that she wouldn’t want to hurt anyone who had redeemable features. Unless they were an evil, moralistically barren asshole.

But Fahrenheit wasn’t stupid. Proud and haughty at times but very, very far from ignorant. From the very first moment Eve walked into town, Fahrenheit had commented to me not ten minutes later; _‘She’s naïve but she’s built like a brick shithouse. Gotta bit of muscle under that shirt. Might wanna keep an eye on her.’_ Advice I had taken to heart, though not quite in the same context as Fahrenheit had meant it.

She recognized in Eve someone who could represent danger if she had half a mind to use her strength to laud it over others. But because Eve was a gentle person and valued the preservation of important, beneficial relationships with others; she hadn’t a mind to throw her, ahem, weight around as it were and act like a thug. I think she knew that she could give Fahrenheit a good hard thrashing if it came down to it. And more importantly, Fahrenheit was aware of this too. Which is why, I believe, she was always mindful of not pushing Eve too far or being disrespectful to her face.

I chuckled to myself, enjoying the fact that Eve had come back with a bit of moxie and a comment that stirred me up in a couple of ways. I leaned close to Fahrenheit, who had been staring back at Eve in silence.

“Well, if that ain’t a glowing recommendation of oratory prowess, I don’t know _what_ is.” I said, flashing a little wink in Eve’s direction to let her know that she’d done good. Fahrenheit looked over her shoulder at me and raised her brow; clearly unimpressed.

“Don’t get too excited. Ghoul dick’s enough to make a gal gag before it gets anywhere _near_ their mouths.” She turned back to Eve, offering up a patronizing smile. “But I’m sure you’ll be _all over_ that action, won’t you little pawn? Being the accommodating sort that you are.”

 _Little Pawn_ had become Fahrenheit’s none too flattering nickname of Eve and she knew full well that I hated it. It was a demeaning way to suggest to Eve that she wasn’t important; that she was just one small inconsequential piece on the chess board of Goodneighbor that could be sacrificed and thrown away without a second thought. I think Fahrenheit liked to use it to keep Eve in her place. It was also a not too sensitive reference to when Eve had been used by Bobbi to break into my Storeroom. Eve had been mortified when she had found out the truth and for good reason. She was terrified of me at the time.

I hefted a sigh and shot Fahrenheit a look which said in no uncertain terms to pull her head in.  “Fahrenheit, dear… you’re doing that thing again where you act like a total patronizing turd. Do me a favour and _knock it the fuck off._ ”

I think Eve could see that I was genuinely annoyed at this stage because she made a point of waving her hand in an unconcerned manner; her expression light.

“John, it’s fine.” She said. “Fahrenheit’s under no obligation to kiss my ass. Besides, it’s not like it hurts me to get challenged occasionally.”

Fahrenheit groaned as she swung her eyes back in their sockets. “Oh yes, that’s right I remember now. You’re supposed to be “all enlightened” and shit.” She made the little quotation marks with her fingers, just to emphasize her sarcasm. “Perhaps you could take some time to bestow some of your saintly teachings upon the rest of us poor schmucks? Maybe on Sunday, when you take a rest from creating the universe.”

It was a bad habit of mine to try and intervene whenever someone was getting picked on and I was going to do just that before I caught the look on Eve’s face and clapped my lips back together. As I may have mentioned before, Eve can be pretty stubborn in wanting to take care of things herself; so that she didn’t grow too dependent on others coming to the rescue all the time. Dealing with people she found difficult was just another of these things she wanted to do for herself. Not to mention that she didn’t want them thinking that she was weak and in need of protection. Which was a smart move considering what Fahrenheit was like. Prone to exploiting any weakness she found.

Eve gave a snort, turning her eyes away and running a hand through her hair. Something she often did when she was flustered and trying against all pretences to appear as though she wasn’t.

“My dear, if it was _I_ who made the universe; the rivers would run clear with Sauvignon Blanc rather than radiation and I would issue a recall on all the giant fucking bugs that populate the land.” Her shoulders flinched up towards her ears and a visible shudder ran through her body. “ _Eyuck._ But thanks for thinking that I have the energy and commitment to handle a job as big as God’s.”

Fahrenheit slowly waved the Fete schedule at her face; expression flax and apathetic. She was far more at ease with trading barbs than Eve was. Due to her years abroad in the Commonwealth, she had marshalled such exquisite control of her body that her adrenal levels barely spiked in situations that would naturally evoke even more stress than that of a tense exchange. I’m sure her nerves were flowing as smooth and as undisturbed as stream water, whereas Eve’s heart would have been thundering in her chest like a little rabbit trying to be brave in the face of a snake.

“Oh, we already know about _your_ commitment to handling big jobs, little pawn.” Fahrenheit murmured softly, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly in response to the sidelong twist of Eve’s lips. She was very good at sensing when she was starting to get under someone’s skin. “I seem to recall you don’t mind getting down and dirty with the best of them when it suits you. Not so fucking cherubic behind closed doors. Or locked storerooms.”

I knew that Eve wanted me to let her handle her own fights but it was difficult when I was indirectly involved. In refusing to demonstrate courtesy and civility to the woman that I loved, Fahrenheit was inadvertently disrespecting _me._ And if I started letting that shit fly in my own house, well I could hardly hope to keep a hold of the reigns of a town as turbulent as Goodneighbor.

I leaned in close, putting my mouth not a few inches from Fahrenheit’s shoulder and hissed into her ear.

“Hey, you put your Tampax in sideways or what? _Chill the fuck out._ ”

“John.” Eve said sharply, tilting her brow in my direction and then giving me a little smile. Telling me without words to ease back. After a moment of this silent exchange, she skewed that smile grudgingly, towards Fahrenheit. “So… how _has_ life been treating you, Fahrenheit?”

Fahrenheit gave her an odd look; perturbed I think by the flip in the conversation which steered it safely towards something that was civil. It was a strategy that Eve was especially proficient at; the girl was bull headed in her efforts to try and keep the peace by whatever means possible. Often to the point of completely ignoring other people’s attempts at being rude or disrespectful towards her and simply continuing on as though the conversation was nothing but pleasant.

“Fine, _thankyou._ ”Fahrenheit snarked, face pinched in puzzlement and giving Eve a look which suggested that the other woman was raving fucking mad. Which wasn’t entirely untrue.

Eve nodded, for all intents and purposes appearing as though Fahrenheit had just responded with something charming and enlightening.

“Keeping busy?”

Fahrenheit’s face twisted with exasperated annoyance and her arms jerked up into the air. “Well _yeah_. You might have heard but my idiot boss decided to fuck off for a year with some random chick that he’d known for all of two fucking seconds; leaving me to run a town on my own. Although, he was kind enough to drop in occasionally – only to put into motion a massive town overhaul, which required even more work, more funds, more security, more…” She waved her hands all over the place. “ -fucking _everything_!! More fucking endless paperwork for me to fill out, while he just packed his shit and took off _again!_ So yeah, long story short – young lady – I’ve been busy. Not all of us have the privilege to just pack up and scoot on out whenever we want; something that your little necrotic man-child seems to forget when it suits him.”

I ignored the slight, because I was used to it from her but wondered whether this might have been just enough of an obvious prod for Eve to actually ark up and tell Fahrenheit to get stuffed. But amazingly enough, Eve still refused to let herself be rattled and just continued nodding her head thoughtfully, before extending both hands palm up in Fahrenheit’s direction.

“Well… you look great.” She said, smiling warmly as she offered up what was probably the most far reaching compliment she could have possibly gone for. Fahrenheit didn’t fall for it naturally and gave a loud sarcastic snort, shaking her head and sighing before turning back to me.

“Yeah… I’ll catch you later, boss.” She flapped the paper briefly to my chest, before turning and marching towards the door. She flicked her head, indicating for Eve to move and the old soft touch actually scooted inside and _apologized_ for being in the way. Jesus. “Don’t forget you still got a lot of shit out there needs doing. I don’t care how many golf balls this one can suck up a pipe-”

“Hose.” Eve corrected, which amounted to little more than another eye roll from Fahrenheit.

“Like it matters.” She pointed to me with the same hand she was holding the fete schedule with. “World doesn’t stop spinning just so you can slam it to a bit of taint, you know what I’m saying?” (Eve’s brows shot directly through her forehead and almost up into her hair at this.) “‘Spect you out to run down the stall line by five.”

“Yeah, I hear ya.” I grumbled, waving her and her nagging voice out the door. Christ, you would think I was _married_ to the fucking woman, way she was always yanking on my earlobe all the time.

“It’s not _you_ that I’m worried about.” Fahrenheit said, lowering her hand so that her extended finger was now pointed at my crotch. “It’s _him_ and his selective hearing.”

The glare I shot her now was as dangerous as any I’d ever extended before. “Hey, isn’t there a _doctor_ you should be wagging your ass under the nose of right now?” I snapped, marching over to her, grabbing her by the wrist and turning her about so that she faced the door. Once facing in that direction, I lifted my crook leg and shoved my boot hard against her ass so that she stumbled out into the hallway. “Three’s a crowd. Take a hint and go and spread sunshine somewhere else, ya mouthy fucking minger.”

I slammed the doors shut behind her, snicking the lock firmly so that she was under no illusions that she would be welcome to poke her nose back in. Eve gave a low whistle from behind me, followed by a heavy thump as she presumably dropped her bag to the floor.

“Well _that_ was a little harsh.”

“What, considering how charming she was to _you?_ ” I questioned, turning around and crooking my brow up at her. “Why do you let her get away with talking to you like that? You need to start standing up for yourself, sister.”

Eve sighed, rubbing her hand on the back of her neck. She looked weary. “Girls got way more energy to keep a fight going than I do. Besides, you’re the one who told me she’s had a tough life. How does it help for me to act like a total prick?”

“Ah, because she’s acting like a cunt?” I said, puzzled as I crossed the room to where I had left her glass of wine. She looked like she needed it. “I don’t understand it… you don’t let anyone else get away with the shit that she does.”

Eve gave a shrug of her tanned shoulders. “Well, she’s your friend, John. I try my best to be civil for your sake.” She swept her eyes down towards the floor and grumbled from the corner of her mouth. “Even if the obnoxious cow is asking for a tit-punch.”

I choked out a laugh, a little relieved actually to find that she _had_ taken offense like a normal human being. “Me-ow, Munch.”

“Well I’m _sorry,_ John but I have been nothing but pleasant to that woman and she still looks at me like I’m a piece of pubic hair she found floating in her drink.” She scowled, upper lip flinching towards her nose and paced a little, hands on her hips. “I tell ya, there is only _so_ much sucking up a body can manage before it turns itself inside fucking out.”

I chuckled as I made my way back over to her with the glass of wine, the glass dripping with condensation from the cool liquid meeting the warmth of the air. “Don’t let it faze you. Not the end of the world if she doesn’t want to be your best friend.”

Eve’s eyes brightened immediately at the sight of the glass and she took it gratefully, pinching the stem in one hand but not yet taking a drink. Seemed like she was still upset by the exchange and needing to vent before numbing herself with the alcohol.

“It’s not that I wanna be her best friend but it would be helpful if she liked me just a _little_ bit. I mean…” She puffed out her cheeks and glanced off to the side again; perturbed. “She and I are gonna be crossing paths a lot more now. We should be civil at the very least.”

I smiled ironically to myself as I returned to the fridge to take out a beer for myself. I snapped the cap off and took a big gulp before replying.

“Putting on airs and graces isn’t really Fahrenheit’s style. The plus side of that is, is that when she _does_ like you, you’ll know it.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be quite her cup of tea, John. Some personalities just don’t click. And there are obviously other contributing factors as well.”

What she meant by ‘contributing factors’ I’m not entirely sure but I’m guessing this was one of those sensitive female things; the like of which remains imperceptible to us poor chaps. Although I was honestly of the opinion that women sometimes went looking for shit that weren’t there, instead of just taking things at face value. I could even see from the way that Eve’s eyes were pointed firmly towards the middle distance that she was muddling something over in her head. Something that, most likely, didn’t factor into Fahrenheit’s behaviour at all.

“She doesn’t _know_ you, Eve.” I said softly, meaning to comfort her. “Give her time to see who you really are and I reckon she’ll warm to ya.”

She smiled and gave me a patient look; as though I was being very naïve in my assumptions. “Maybe. Or maybe she’s just not as interested in my _taint_ as you are, John Hancock.”

I smirked to myself and smothered a chuckle; wishing I didn’t find that so funny. “She’s a shocker, isn’t she?”

“And I thought _you_ were bad.” Eve said, chuckling and looking a lot more relaxed for finding some humor in the situation. She took a look at the glass now, tilting it from side to side and murmuring approvingly. “The glass is nice, John. Where the hell did you go and rustle up something like this?”

“Trader from up North designs ‘em.” I said, my chest flushing warm with pride to see that she had taken notice of my efforts. “Soon as I saw ‘em I thought ‘Eve’d get a kick outta that.’ Favorite color and all, right? That dark blue.”

“It sure is.” She remarked, turning and giving me that lovely warm and soothing smile which was such a trademark of her gentle demeanour. “Why Mr Mayor… you had best watch yourself or I might start mistaking you for a romantic.”

“Well, we mustn’t have _that_ getting around.” I teased, taking another gulp from my beer and then gesturing towards the glass in her hands with it. “Seriously though, get your lips around what’s floating in the glass, why don’t ya? Have a feeling you’re gonna like it.”

Eve snorted. “For fucks sake, John. It could come out of a _box_ and I would like it.” But she went ahead and took a sip, nay _glug_ of her wine and her eyes almost came popping out of her head as soon as the liquid touched her tongue. I smothered a snicker that was tempted to come rolling out across my lips and simply waited for Eve to finish. She emerged from the glass, her expression near… orgasmic with relief and enjoyment.

“Oh my god _damn_ this is good shit!” She enthused, her tongue darting out of her mouth to scoop up the droplets that had clung to the arches of her lips. Nothing wasted. “And not _just_ because it’s cold but – _fuck_ that’s the ticket on a day like this.” She smacked her lips together a few times, eyes trailing up towards the left; as though considering something unseen floating in the air. “Tastes… a bit more… fruity or something. But it’s dry, thank god. All these sweet sugary wines that pave their way around the Commonwealth give me the _worse_ headaches after a while.”

“I think that’s probably the _amount_ you drink, as opposed to the ingredients.” I teased, laughing as Eve leered and stuck her middle finger up at me. “I bought the wine off of one of them Montreal traders too. They’ve propped themselves up a little stall in town. Apparently, they’re able to grow… _grapes_ up there to produce proper wines? Told me the colder winters help give the grog a nicer taste.” I couldn’t keep the hopeful lean out of my voice. “Maybe a… bit more like you were used to back in the day, huh?”

“Surprisingly pretty close.” Eve said, taking another generous sip and shutting her eyes now to savor it. She sighed, rolling her shoulders with pleasure. “God, it’s good enough to make a girl wet.”

I felt another little flush of heat through my body at her words, though you would think I’d be used to her making improper allusions by now. Eve wasn’t shy about the subject of sex, despite how ‘vanilla’ Fahrenheit thought her to be. Of course, the dynamic of our relationship had altered in the space of just a few hours and all Eve’s comment did was put me on edge and make me very aware of her body. I took another slug from my beer, using the delay to try and calm myself down. My heart fluttered so hard in my chest that it hurt a little.

“Ah, then my work is part way done.” I finally concluded, which evoked a little, nervous laugh from Eve in response. I think she too might have been stinting on her words and wondering whether they might have worked me up a notch. Girl wasn’t naïve of course. She’s been married so I’m sure she had a fairly reasonable understanding of the places a man’s mind went when a woman made references to the state of her body.

“But seriously… thankyou so much, John. The glass and the wine… it’s very thoughtful.” She smiled, tilting the glass at me appreciatively before striding away from the bed and wandering about the room. Her eyes coiled about every surface; studying the changes I had made. “Not to mention... everything going on in this town, right now. I just… I can’t get over it.” She laughed as she gestured around. “I mean my God; this is your _bedroom!_ It was nothing but a dirty little fucking crack den before – no offense. But now… _now_ it’s like a real home! I mean, you have _coasters_!”

I smiled, taking no offense in her assessment of how I had lived before. It _had_ been a filthy little crack den. And it hadn’t bothered me, because I myself hadn’t been bothered with anything. Where I slept, how I slept, _who_ I slept with… the days all simply rolled on without construct or pattern. But now… _now_ my life had purpose and that purpose wove its own perceptible tapestry across the face of my once barren world. I wanted to care for someone. I wanted to give Eve the very best I was capable of providing. I wanted her to see that I could alter my world to make hers more comfortable; that I cared for and loved her enough to come back from the desolate place that I had fled to so long ago.

“Do you like it?”

She smiled over her shoulder at me. “I love it.” Her brows lifted slightly, questioning. “But more to the point, my darling, do _you_ like it? Is this something that you wanted to do for yourself… or something you simply felt was expected of you?”

There was simply no evading this one, was there? It shouldn’t have surprised me in the least because Eve always cared enough to factor in other people’s feelings alongside her own. It wouldn’t have been enough for her that _she_ liked the changes I had made to the room; she would need to know beyond doubt that _I_ myself was happy with it. I don’t know if it was a personal thing or a lawyer thing but she always did seem preoccupied with the maintaining of a fair and equitable balance.

“I _do_ like it.” I confirmed, leaning my hip against the side of the sofa and looking about the room amiably. “As much as a guy can appreciate a room, you know? Opening it up like this… kinda feels like I ain’t hiding away in a little hole. And it’s nice to get the sun in; hangovers or no. Not to mention that bed…” I sighed and twirled the neck of the beer bottle between my fingers; sending the contents spiralling. “Damn sight better on my back for one. And she is cosy as all _fuck._ ”

Eve gave an amused chuckle, tilting her head from side to side as she examined the novels I had placed on the bookshelf. “Who would have ever thunk it? John Hancock; big bad mayor of Goodneighbor, playing house.” She glanced over at me, smiling scoldingly as she caught me admiring her backside while she was bent over. She straightened up and turned sharply on her heel, heading towards the bed. She sipped her wine as she gazed down at the doona, trailing her fingertips along the surface of it.  “Man, this bedspreads a beautiful color…”

“I thought you might like it…” I murmured, easing myself away from the sofa and slowly approaching her. I wanted to slide my hands around her hips; press my face to her hair and kiss the back of her neck. That smooth line of flesh that peeked from between two sharp strands of her hair. “Same blue as that glass. _Your_ color.”

She stared at me over her shoulder; astonished. “You picked this out for _me_?”

I smiled and shrugged. “More like with you in mind. I don’t want the idea to creep you out, not like I did it with the intention of luring you into or nothin’.” Though I can’t deny it would be a nice little fringe benefit. “The color just… reminds me of you, is all. Which was kind of soothing while we were apart.”

“It _is_ a soothing color.” Eve agreed, misinterpreting my meaning somewhat as she turned back to gaze at the bed. She stroked the palm of her hand across it again, like a child trailing their fingertips through the cool, smooth water of a tranquil lake. “And I’m not creeped out. I’m actually… touched.”

“Well, we _all_ knew that.” I joked, knocking my knuckle to the side of my head, crossing my eyes and sticking my tongue out like a lunatic. Eve gave a fake little laugh, rolling her own eyes at the same time.

“Oh ha ha.” She sneered, walking to the side of the bed and reaching out to give the pillows a little plump and a readjustment. Just couldn’t fucking help herself. I watched as she turned and slid her backside up onto the doona, giving a little squiggle so she was seated comfortably. Then she swung her legs about, tipped back and sprawled across the covers, keeping her wine perfectly balanced as she groaned and squirmed from side to side. “Oh my _god…_ I haven’t felt a bed this comfortable since back before the world went to shit.”

I felt a stirring in my groin as I watched Eve roll herself over, crooking her head up enough to take a sip from her glass before dropping it back down and rubbing the whole front of her body against the duvet. I knew that she was simply enjoying the softness and novelty of the bed in her usual innocent dopey fashion but the way that she was wriggling about like that… I allowed my eyes to roam her body from top to bottom, lingering over the round plump curves of her ass; pinched tight by the material of the jeans. I had imagined this moment for so long; Eve in this bed, outlined by that dark blue which she loved so much. I thought about crawling over beside her, cupping my hand to her rump and kissing the back of her neck. Pulling her down, stroking her body and taking her right then and there in the sultry afternoon heat. I gulped my beer again, looking away so as to force some restraint upon myself.

“Glad you’re rooming with me now?” I asked, once I felt that I had sufficient control of my impulses. I looked back towards the bed to see Eve smiling up at me from the crook of her hand, legs kicked up behind her so that her boots swished just over the rise of her ass.

“Was never _not_ glad, darling. But now… with this wine, this scrumptious bed _and_ you.” She sighed contentedly. “Oh a girl could die happy.”

I’d just about finished my beer, so I killed off the last of the bottle and made my way back over to the fridge for another. This would be my third for the day, but I was used to drinking a whole lot more than this without getting hammered. The only thing the alcohol was doing right now was helping keep me cooled off and loose. I tossed the empty into my trash tin and fetched a fresh bottle from the shelf in the fridge. I checked to see if Eve needed another top up, but she was still working her way slowly through the glass she had. Surprises all.

“Where on earth did all this linen come from anyway?” She mumbled, glancing about the room as I snicked off the cap of the beer. “And the sofas look like they’ve been touched up too…”

Didn’t miss a trick, did she? “Meaghan and her little haberdashery business. Well, not so little anymore. Place is flourishing; you’ll have to check out her shop later on. Gal’s making a killing.” I pointed to each of my fingers as I rattled off her current selection. “Clothes, linens, fabric repairs and reupholstering – you name it. Some of her staff are assigned to actually produce mattresses. Have to be ordered a few weeks in advance but –” I made my way over to the bed, leaning down a little so that I could push my hand to the mattress Eve was currently lounging on. I distributed my weight down into my palm, making it bounce. “– as you can see, they’re worth the bloody wait.”

Eve huffed in apparent marvel, shaking her head as she sipped from her wine again. Her eyes had a strange cast to them; thoughtful but with something else lingering just beneath the surface. A deeper emotion not unlike… affection, maybe?

“John… this is just incredible. This whole town… it’s still Goodneighbor but it’s like… I don’t know; like it’s coming _alive_ or something. Waking up and shaking itself off.”

I chuckled, thinking this a very appropriate observation.  “You ain’t seen nothing yet. I’ll give you the tour a little later; show you what’s going on in the Eastern Annex. You are gonna shit.”

Eve laughed, swishing her head to force some loose strands of hair out of her eye. “Well, I hopefully won’t get _that_ excited. …Maybe a _little_ incontinent but that’s the standard for a gal my age.” She slurped from her wine again, sighing happily as she rolled over to the far side of the bed and struggled up like a big old beached Sea Creature. Sometimes the way that she moved made me think she might have picked up some very bad habits from being pregnant. She had a weird way of leading with her stomach when she was standing up; kind of bringing her upper torso along for the ride as an afterthought. “Oh man this wine is the _bomb._ ” She turned to me with a very wide eyed, serious expression. “ _Please_ tell me you ordered like… a hundred and fifty cases. I’ll go halfses on it, I don’t care. I’ll find something to mortgage. Sell my… non-virginity to the highest bidder, whatever.”

I laughed, waving my hand to show that this wasn’t necessary. “Actually, I’ve linked in with the business permanently, Munch. They’re going to set up a brewery in town, make their own patented liquor.” I winked at the look of delight that just about exploded out of Eve’s face at this. “Caravans will bring supplies in regularly from Montreal to brew the wine. Maybe even try growing some of them grape plants in a controlled environment. Oh and they’re also thinking about making spirits ta boot.”

“Oooh…” Eve murmured, nervously clucking from the corner of her mouth. “Vadim will _not_ be happy.”

I smiled significantly at her as I took another sip from my beer. “Should think the guy would be _used_ to competition by now.”

Eve gave me a rather scolding look as she marched about the bed; all for the purpose of delivering another smack to the side of my mouth. More of a sharp pat than a smack and she smiled as she did it; so I knew that the gesture came from affection, rather than genuine disappointment.

“Don’t be a mean boy.”

I shrugged innocently. “Hey, _I_ was as astonished as he was that you turned down his proposal.” I made a big show of puffing out my chest like a pompous asshole and gesturing to it with both index fingers. “Now I see that you just wanted to get all in on this sexy necrosis.”

Eve grunted nonchalantly, gazing off to the side as though her choice to kiss me hadn’t come from a place of any great deliberation. “Yeah well as my Grandfather used to say; ‘You don’t look at the mantle when you’re poking the fireplace’.” Her eyes flickered up to see my own face fall; though I had to stifle a genuine urge to laugh at the statement. She chuckled as she squeezed my wrist.  “I’m only _joking_ you silly bugger! The way you set yourself up for these things sometimes…”

“Well yeah but I sure as shit hope that _you_ don’t actually buy into it.” I mumbled, perhaps sounding a little sulky as I stuck my nasal cavity into the air and looked away from her as I sipped my beer.

“Well, if it’ll make amends somewhat... I’ve got you a present.” She smiled gently as she released my wrist and trotted over to her bag. She placed her wine glass on the bedside table, yanked up the top of the bag so that it was standing on end and then dove both arms into the interior. I took the opportunity to scope out her ass again. But I mean… give a guy a break. I hadn’t seen the girl for over a month; I was just making up for lost time. I stepped closer, moving around the bed to just behind where she was folded in half, foraging in the bowels of the duffle. I was just considering whether to slide my hand into the back pocket of her jeans when she suddenly let out an ‘Ah- _hah!’_ and sprung up vertical. She turned, started to see my standing so close and then chuckled a little at her own reaction. There was a bottle of some sort of alcohol in her hand; the contents dark and the neck encircled with a clean looking red ribbon.

“Um… I know it’s a… not quite Christmas yet but I thought this might give you a chance to enjoy it ahead of time.” She brushed some hair back from her eyes before using both hands to extend the bottle towards me. “It’s genuine Scotch; imported from the country of Scotland. This stuff was ten years old back in my time. Now it’s like… two hundred and twenty or something. It’ll blow your back molars out. Probably grow back all your hair as well.” She laughed as I took the bottle out of her hands, turning it over to examine the faded label. Sure as shit looked to be the real deal… must have been a hell of a find to unearth something like this. “Anyway… the bottle I was _going_ to give you, those fucking Raiders ruined when they attacked us outside of town. This was Deacon’s bottle. He was kind enough to replace the one that I was going to give to you. So um… happy early Merry Christmas.”

She was babbling, which was what she did when she was nervous and I started to wonder why. Whether she was placing a great deal of importance in my appreciation of her gift, or whether my proximity was getting her all worked out of shape. It was certainly having an effect on me and though I was incredibly grateful for the gift of what must have been a very rare bottle of alcohol, it didn’t matter so much as just having her with me again.

But I didn’t want her to think I was ungracious, so I spent a bit of time looking the bottle over. It would be strong as shit to be sure and no doubt taste better than probably… anything I’d ever drunk in my life. It was such an Eve present. Food and drink were her two staples for pushing on people.

“Huh… well isn’t that something? Cheers Munch, you’ll have to throw one back with me later on.” I said, smiling as I leaned around her to place the bottle on the bedside table. Eve watched the movement of my arm, her expression puzzled and perhaps a little let down. She glanced up at me, curious I think and then gestured back towards the bottle.

“Don’t you want to… maybe try some?”

I chuckled to myself, remembering the distinctly strong alcohol taste and smell on Eve’s lips from our earlier kiss and I leant close to her, running my thumb across her lower lip.

“I think I already have.” I murmured into her ear and she looked confused for all of two seconds before clicking on to my reference. Then she just looked embarrassed.

“Oh yeah… well, we managed to salvage a bit from the bottle earlier… the one that was originally yours, I mean. And I mighta be feeling the slightest bit nervous…” She faltered in her babbling garble as I took another step closer to her, the lines of our stomachs near meeting. “… you know… coming into town… seeing you after all this time…” Her eyes dropped down to stare at my mouth as I moved closer still. “… so we mighta just… had ourselves a… couple of…nips and…”

I pressed the tip of my finger to her lips, which were no less than an inch from my own. Her voice trailed off, her eyes shining a little as silence fell where before her nervous chatter filled the room.

“Eve?”

She gave the smallest jerking nod; looking altogether too much like one of those Vault Tech Bobble heads you sometimes see about the place. “Mmm-hmm?”

“You’re babbling, sweetheart. Ain’t no need for you to be nervous; not with me.” I reached out without looking so that I could set my beer bottle down on the bedside table. It freed my hand so that I could now run the backs of my fingers down her arm and then cup my palm to her spine. “It’s a wonderful, thoughtful gift. And I _am_ grateful. It just kinda… pales in comparison to what you’ve already given me. Being here with me, coming back in time for Christmas… kissing me…” I traced the curves of her lips with my thumb, marvelling at the sudden intensity of the moment. “That’s the greatest Christmas gift I could ever receive. I might as well have asked Santa Claus for a… fucking Unicorn and found it wrapped up under the tree that next morning.”

Eve laughed sweetly, her face pinched with emotion as she gazed back into my eyes. I used the top of her head to lift my hat a little, which made her chuckle again. I pushed my forehead gently to hers.

“I’ve never wanted _anything_ so badly. Everything else just… dims out of importance when I have you in my thoughts, Eve.” I smiled, sliding my thumb across her cheek clearing the path for my lips to close the space between us. “Your kiss was the gift that I’ve been wishing for my entire life.”

It was probably a good thing that I kissed her then, because from the astonished look on her face, I don’t think she had any idea what to say. I wondered whether it might have been too much and she would try to avert my attentions so as to not play into the obvious depth of my feelings but it was with some surprise on my part that I felt her body go almost limp. She sank into me, moaning softly as I squeezed my arms around her waist and shoulders, pulling her tighter to my chest. I felt another painful flutter of arousal at the sounds she was making, her own hands clutching to my back; fingers squeezing against the tussocks of my shirt. I explored the warm, wet cavern of her mouth; closing my lips about hers as we gave life to any smaller number of kisses, tongues touching and tasting with an unfamiliar sensitivity that had never been my wont to experience.

In my embrace, I attempted to convey all my jumbled, knotted feelings to her. _How I’ve missed you, my darling… how I’ve_ longed _for you, how I’ve loved you, needed you, wanted you… How consumed I am by my desire to have you in every corner of my vision; from the rise of the morning sun, to the fading close of the lights last breath in the evening…_  

I believe she could sense it as well; perhaps in the rotations of my hands, the soft little murmurs I made in the back of my throat, the slow decadent indulgence of this newly established connection between us. I could taste and smell the wine on her breath and I’m damn sure she too could taste the residue of beer still clinging to my own tongue. I had never felt so intrinsically connected to someone; not even in sex had I come close to acquiring this level of intimacy.

When our lips finally parted and remained so, we were both more than a little breathless. Eve’s face was very flushed. We chuckled softly, amused by our own passion I think and Eve cleared her throat, easing her arms from around my shoulders and using her hand to fan her face.

“Pfwoof… goodness me.” She mused to herself and I chuckled again to see her so ruffled.

“I’ll take that as a compliment…” I murmured, ducking my head to place a kiss to the corner of her brow before taking up my beer again. I sipped from it as I drifted back about two steps, giving her some room to recover. 

“Well, you should.” She said breathlessly, turning and scooping her wine glass back up and guzzling from it again. She took at least three good sloshes into her gullet before dropping the glass back down so violently that the remaining contents splashed all up the side. A few drops burst free and rolled down the exterior of the glass. Eve caught them with her fingertip, which she then slipped into her mouth and sucked on. “Gosh _darn_ you can kiss, boy.”

I smiled and gave what I hope was a modest shrug. “Never had many complaints. Of course it helps that I’m fucking nuts about the person I’m kissing.” I moved back in on her, watching her eyes widen as I set my lips now to the curve of her flushed cheek, kissing down and around towards her ear. She sighed, tilting her head back as I drew the lobe between my lips, giving it a little nibble between my front teeth before sucking on it. I could feel the slight divot in the flesh from where it had been previously pierced and I wondered whether the hole might have closed over during our travels. I’d certainly never seen her with a pair of earrings in before but she must have owned some before the war, surely…

“John…” She whispered, tilting her head from side to side as her palm slid up onto the back of my neck. She caressed me here, almost encouraging. “You know we uh… before _this_ goes any further we really should… um… talk.”

I smirked a little because I could feel the contradiction to her words in the movements of her body. She let out another soft lilting groan as I trailed my lips down to her neck, pressing kisses just above where the collar of her flannel shirt jutted up like a divergent wall. There was no scent on her skin, so I gathered she hadn’t put on any perfume today. The one aroma I did catch a whiff of was of course the slightly salty tang of sweat. Natural, on such a warm day as this.

“So _talk_.” I whispered, sliding my spare hand into the small of her back and making gentle circles. I evoked another tender noise from her as I trailed my fingers up her spine and then back down, wishing all the while that that goddamned flannel shirt wasn’t in the way. It inhibited that perfect smooth line I knew would exist if it hadn’t been insistent on intruding.

Eve managed an ironic sounding chuckle. “… It’s a little hard to… focus… let alone string sensible words together when you’re doing… _that_.”

My heart thumped wildly and I wondered to myself where all my restraint had perished in these passing few moments. Every impulse that sped through my body was of the same, congruent desire; to continue to touch and kiss and please her until we both went sideways onto that bed. It didn’t seem very gentlemanly of me to try this on, especially when she’d just told me that she wanted to talk. Still, I decided to have a bit of fun with it anyway; moving my hand from her spine now and taking a half-hearted pluck at the knot that was holding her flannel shirt together.

“Well… perhaps we should just let our bodies do the talking instead?” I purred against her neck, unsurprised to feel her hand close firmly about my own and pin the fingers together to prevent any further manipulation of her attire. I lifted my head to see her giving me a somewhat amused, though rather stern look.

“As lovely as that sounds, I just need to know that you and I are on the same page first before shit goes too far and gets all needlessly complicated.” Her eyebrows relaxed a little and she lifted my hand to place a kiss to my knuckles, chuckling all the while. “If _I_ can be patient, then so can you. After all you can’t be _nearly_ as pent up as I am, honey.”

I gave her what I’m sure was a very painful look, pursing my lips together. “What makes you think that?”

She tilted her head at me and lifted her brows, as though telling me not to play stupid. “Oh, come _on_ darling. This is _you_ we’re talking about. I know you would have hooked up with a few of your lady friends once you got back into town.”

My own brows shot up at this and I was genuinely perplexed by her assumption. She really had _no_ idea, did she?

“You _know_ that for a fact, huh?”

Eve nodded, smiling understandingly. She gave the side of my arm a rub. “And it’s okay. I don’t mind. Far from it, in fact.” She raised both her shoulders, her expression remorseful. “I’ve been… giving you the run around for so long… you know I never would expect you to abstain just for the sake of maybe one day getting into my bloomers. You don’t owe me _anything_ and I wouldn’t have expected for you to just put yourself on the shelf while you played the waiting game.”

Nope. She really had no idea. I sighed, astonished that she couldn’t seem to fathom just… how much she meant to me. What I was willing to sacrifice just to prove to her how special she was and more than that besides… That there couldn’t _be_ a substitute for these intimacies. Not while I felt for her the way that I did.

I took a slug from my beer, feeling a slight flush of annoyance with her. It’s not like I needed her to be grateful to me for tucking my dick away for the better part of a year but it did irk me a little to think that it was just such a natural assumption on her part that I would go and start hunting for totty once she was out of the picture.

“Eve…” I said, glancing down at the floor; my lips twisting with the evidence of my irritation. “That’s … _exactly_ what I did.”

She cocked her head at me, her own mouth dropping open uncertainly. “…what?”

Apparently she needed for me to spell it out. So I did. “I haven’t slept with _anyone_ since the night before I left Goodneighbor with you.”

Eve stood stock still while she absorbed this information, staring out into nothingness somewhere over my shoulder; her big eyes creased beneath the uncertain bow of her brows. Finally, she came out of it, shaking her head like a dog dislodging water from her ears and blurted ‘ _Huh?’_ ever so eloquently.

I shrugged differentially. “Well… if you don’t include those… things that happened at _Cragenshore_ and _The Rolling Ranch_ -”

“Which we don’t.” Eve said quickly, shaking her head and depositing another sip of wine into her mouth. Her glass, I noticed, was almost empty.

“Right.”

She frowned at me again, unconvinced. “But… that’s a _whole year._ ”

I felt very tired from the thought alone, glancing off to the side as I made a popping sound with my lips. “Yup.”

Eve continued to stare at me oddly, seeming to be under the impression that I must have somehow been mistaken in my statement. That I _had_ in fact had sex at some point but managed to forget about it.

“You haven’t had sex… for a _whole year._ ”

I strained air through my teeth, not feeling any better for her emphasizing the duration of my abstinence. “Yeah, keep saying it Munch… makes me feel _so_ much better…”

She quirked her brow, lifted her head and narrowed her eyes at me. She shook her head. “No…”

“It’s the truth.”

“… Are you _sure?_ ”

I snorted, holding my arms up in the air so that the beer bottle dangled from between my fingers. “Christ on a Crutch Munch, you think I’d somehow _forget?!_ ”

I suppose the rationality of this statement must have gotten through to her in the end because Eve glanced away now, with a look of pure bewilderment gracing her features. After a while, she looked back at me, with an expression akin to someone finding out that your beloved relative had just died. She leaned over to rub my arm sympathetically.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry… I had no idea.”

I actually snorted a laugh at this, because she was taking the whole thing so seriously. Never mind that she herself had gone without sex for even longer than this. Apparently the idea that a _male_ had to stave off his natural base desires was something to be pitied.

“Hey, it’s okay.” I said, smirking and rolling my shoulders. “Not like anyone died. Though my dick sometimes suspects that it did… Might have to send an Obituary in to the _Publick Occurrences_ soon…”

“Oh you poor dear!” Eve said, still processing the shock herself as she leaned over and gave me a hug. As she rubbed my back, I actually started wondering to myself whether giving up sex was somehow a bigger deal than I realized. Maybe your organs started shutting down if you didn’t regularly slam it to someone? I mean, here was Eve acting like I had just informed her of a terminal complaint. “… well no wonder you were so horny all the time.”

I titled my head, wondering when I had ever behaved in a particularly horny manner whilst on the road with Eve. Sure I made a couple of dirty jokes and comments here and there but nothing that was any worse than the other guys…

“Well…. Horn _ier._ ”

Eve leaned back, looking at me like a teacher admonishing the whimsies of an errant child in the classroom. Situation I’d been in a few times, I must admit. “Why the hell did you go and do something as silly as that? I mean, shittin’ hell, it’s not like I would have _judged_ you for running off to get laid occasionally. I’m not like that!”

“I know you ain’t darlin’ but there was a lot more goin’ on for me than just physical crap, you know.” I gave her a firm look back in return, figuring that it was time to hit her with a bit of honesty. “I just… I didn’t want to give you the impression that… you weren’t important to me. That you were worth waiting around for.” I shrugged. “It got to the point that I… I didn’t wanna be with other girls, Munch. I couldn’t switch off from you. Like the night I tried to be with Belinda at that settlement up North. Every second I spent with her, all I could think about was being with you instead.” I took her hand in my own, squeezing it gently. “It’s _you_ I wanna be with, darlin’. Have for a real long time now. Ain’t no one else gonna cut the mustard.” I chuckled a little bitterly. “Never thought anyone could ruin me for other dames, but there ya have it…”

Eve’s eyes were wide and she placed a hand to her chest as she took my words on board. Her fingers slipped out of mine as she turned, put her wine glass back up to her mouth and tipped it back as far as it could go. She nearly bent her spine into an upside down U in the attempt but she succeeded in slurping down every last drop that remained. She emerged with a loud gasp, as though she had been holding her breath underwater for a couple of minutes and then glanced back at me. She looked like a Radstag caught in a hunter’s spotlight.  

“… Oh my God… you _are_ serious, aren’t you?”

I gave a slow nod. “As a heart attack, kiddo.”

Eve cleared her throat, her eyes panning about on the floor as though searching for something to crawl underneath and hide. She must have decided this was an exercise in pointlessness and instead foisted her glass back towards me.

“I’m uh… gonna need some more wine”.

I took the glass. “Coming right up.”

I returned to the fridge, polishing off my remaining beer and throwing the empty bottle into the bin where it landed staunchly beside the one I had previously annihilated. I topped up Eve’s glass, to the point that the white liquid was nearly spilling out over the top. I thought she might appreciate the extra dose, given that she was clearly overwhelmed by what I had just told her. I felt a little guilty for dumping my feelings on her but I only wanted to be honest with the one person I trusted most in this world. She deserved to know the truth, even if it made life a little awkward for us temporarily.

Fortunately, that’s why the good Lord invented alcohol; to help ease these difficult discussions into a more productive and relaxed state. With that in mind, I plucked out another beer for myself; feeling the effects of the last one even as I did. I certainly didn’t feel as stressed about Eve’s reaction as I might have done if I’d been completely sober. The alcohol was doing a fine job in taking the edge off of _that_ anxiety. I could only hope another glass of wine would do the same for Eve.

I shoved the fridge door shut with my elbow and brought both drinks over to the coffee table in front of the sofa. Eve had since slouched down on it, her fingers pressed delicately to her scarred chin; eyes staring into the void without expression.

I stepped around her to sit on the far side of the sofa, passing the glass of wine into her hands once I was settled. The wine almost slopped out, her fingers trembled so much.

“Thankyou.” Eve murmured, distracted. She chugged from the glass again, tilting her head back and fairly much pouring the contents straight down her throat. I barely noticed the flex of her gullet she was such a dab hand at the drink. After taking in another fair imbuement, she sighed, shut her eyes for a moment and then gathered herself. She turned to look at me; her expression completely and utterly… baffled.

“This is just so… I mean… how long have you felt like this?”

“Depends on how you choose to interpret what ‘this’ is, Munch.” I said, shrugging as I flipped the cap off of my beer and tossing it onto the table. Time, it seemed, to lay it all on the line. “Liked you from the moment I met ya. Definitely fancied the look of you. Thought I’d try and whip you off of your feet, outta your duds and into the sheets before you breezed outta town. Started liking you a lot more every conversation we had. More as a person than as a dame that I was considering putting the squeeze on.” I mused a little, staring off into my own unforeseen distance. “Then we started travelling together. We became friends. Best friends, by my reckoning. Took care of each other, watched each other’s backs. Almost died together, more’n one occasion.” Eve scrunched her eyes shut at this, apparently fighting back a powerful surge of emotion. “I ain’t never felt that way about no one my entire life, Munch. Never trusted someone that completely. Never rolled with someone so well.” I turned back to look at her now, felt my own eyes crease in. This was it… the moment I’d been putting off for so long. God help me if I was doing the wrong thing in telling her. “Never… loved someone so much.”

**~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again my darlings and congratulations for making it! Feel free to now traverse your little tootsies on over to the second part. I shall see you there! 
> 
> All my love  
> ~ MadamMortis~ xxx ooo


	10. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...I kissed her chin, her first injury in this new world and one that would never heal. I kissed the curve of her shoulder, where it had been forcibly dislocated and cruelly rotated in the socket until she had been reduced to blubbering, hysterical screams. I stroked the side of her breast, which had been grabbed and mauled by so many bastards who thought they had a right to lay their hands upon her... 
> 
> ...I wanted to kiss away the last traces of those thugs who had thought to put their disgusting hands and mouth to her in the past; let her feel instead the soft and adoring caress of a man who did actually love her. Who wanted her to experience pleasure in his touch, rather than simply take what he wished for his own desires...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone and thanks for sticking around! I don't have a great deal to say that I didn't already lead into in the previous chapter, so I'll simply pop down some warnings for the content ahead.
> 
> I'll go ahead and say probably not safe for work. There's a bit of fooling around in this chapter. All consensual and probably well overdue, to be honest. Please keep in mind if you are sensitive to people having sexy time together. Can't imagine it's not anything you wouldn't already be able to deal with if you have been reading my work for this long already. There is, however a lot of dirty talking, walking and grinding in this chapter, so don't say I didn't warn you! 
> 
> I apologize as well for any mistakes and little grammar eff-ups that may appear. I haven't been a hundred percent well these past few days, which made it very difficult for me to focus on much of anything. May have to do with Christmas and a most likely raw shrimp(s) I consumed. Or the amount of drinks I imbibed, one or the other. In any event, I may cruise back over the contents of the chapter and tidy them up in a few days time. In the meanwhile, feel free to read on through and I shall see you on the other side!

> " _We prowl fang’d and four-footed in the woods, we spring on prey,_
> 
> _We are two clouds forenoons and afternoons driving overhead,_
> 
> _We are seas mingling, we are two of those cheerful waves rolling over each other and interwetting each other,_
> 
> _We are what the atmosphere is, transparent,_
> 
> _We have circled and circled till we have arrived home again, we two,_
> 
> _We have voided all but freedom and all but our own joy.” ~ **Excerpt’s from the Poem ‘We Two, how long we were fool’d’ – By Walt Whitman, 1892**_

 

  **John Hancock**

**_Goodneighbor – Current Day…_ **

I half expected the stereotyped reaction; the jerking up of the head, the slight recoiling of shock. Mouth gaping, bewilderment and astonishment. I got none of that. Eve didn’t so much as flinch at my confession. Her big eyes shimmered as they immediately welled with tears and she turned away from me, fingers curling up to form a soft fist on the dip of her chin. It looked as though my words had… wounded her. She didn’t speak but took another sip of her wine, trying, I think to pull herself together.

I sighed, turning away from her as my own vision blurred. My eyelids felt wet. I wondered how long it had been since anything had brought tears to my eyes? The Rolling Ranch, I think… A different sort of sadness, that.

“And this is _precisely_ why… why I made the decision not to say it before.” I stared up at the ceiling, breathing in hard through my nasal cavity. Trying to keep the tears from rolling out. “ _So_ many fucking times, I came close. And you deserve to know, darlin’. You’re an easy person to love… But I’ve watched you cry for your old man. And I know you still love _him_. You’ll always love him. A promise of a lifetime doesn’t go away even in death. And you wear that ring like it’s as much a part of you as the skin it’s wrapped around.”

Having taken some control of my emotions, I brought my face back around to look at her; reaching out with my hand. It was a risk but I was used to doing things that might have ended up biting me in the ass later. As I pinched her fingers between my own, I rubbed my thumb over the gold ring that she had never the _once_ removed from her hand. I rotated it slightly about her finger, trying I think, to show her that I acknowledged its existence. Respected what it signified and the love which bound it there.

“It’s okay.” I said as I saw her lips press together; her shoulders quake as grief pierced through her. “I’d _never_ want you to try and move on from this ring, or put it away or pretend like it doesn’t mean anything to you. I… was happy just being at your side; whatever the capacity. But that’s the reason why there… there _couldn’t_ be any other girls. For me… there’s _only_ you. You don’t fuck around on the person that you love.”

When Eve sighed, it sounded almost like a painful moan; as though something was piercing her guts from the inside. Tears had slipped down onto her cheeks and she did her usual thing of trying to slap them away; as though their very presence bugged the hell out of her. They kept coming for a while, so she had quite a battle on her hands and I waited until she felt herself ready to meet my eyes again. Her makeup had run a little bit so she used her thumb to clean herself up as much as possible. Finally, she turned and gazed up at me, looking about as weak as an animal that might have been caught in a trap overnight.

“You… _love_ me?” She asked, her voice wavering in spite of her obvious attempts to pull it into line. I let out a long breath of relief to see that she hadn’t in fact turned and fled the room like I had been dreading. Hadn’t grudgingly informed me that she needed time to think or that my feelings were inappropriate. She was still here; still holding my hand and looking into my eyes. Giving me the chance that I felt I quite honestly didn’t deserve.

I chuckled as I put my beer down, reaching out to run my hand across her head; the way I had always done when I wished to comfort her. “What was your first fucking clue?”

Eve smiled in response, acknowledging I think that there had been some rather obvious hints in the time we had been together and chanced another sip from her wine. “It’s just… you’ve waited all this time… maybe your brains just gone a bit addled from all that sexual constipation, you know?”

I groaned, sinking back into the sofa cushions. “Jesus, you sound like Magnolia and Fahrenheit…” I smacked my palm to my chest. “Listen; I’m old enough and ugly enough to know my own god damned mind. I _know_ how I feel about you. I just thought that by sharing it, I would be putting way too much pressure on you. I know you’re still grieving. And I _know_ it may be a long fucking time before you’re ready for… anything serious. But I’m here for you. However you want me, I’m yours.”

Eve gave me a long hard look. “John I… have you… have you really thought all this through?”

I nodded. “I have. I mean… if you ever decided that you wanted me… I had a lot of plans in place.”

“Which are?”

I took up my beer, swished the bottle from side to side like a pendulum as I quickly gathered together all of my thoughts into something that would be both substantial and reassuring. “Well, first things first… I use my charm and incomparable good looks to convince you to fall madly head over heels in love with me.”

Eve had a laugh at this, biting her lower lip with her teeth before looking back towards me in a silent appeal to continue speaking.

“Having done that, we get back to stomping the Commonwealth together. Get those last few parts we need. Snatch your boy back out of the Institute.”

“That straight forward, huh?” Eve said, her voice teasing.

“That straight forward, sister. No ifs, no buts, no Super Mutant nuts.” I paused to take another slurp from my beer. Surprisingly, my mouth had gone a little dry in the last few minutes. The anxiety; most likely. “Once we got Shaun back, I pull a few more of my little magic tricks to convince the both of you to live with me here, in Goodneighbor.”

“Here in the Statehouse?”

“No. In a cardboard box just outside of _Daisy’s Discounts._ ” I said, unable to resist being a little sarcastic. I mean honestly, where the Hell _else_ would I live given that the Statehouse was my home? “I’ll furnish it all out beforehand though. Three bedrooms, little picket fence made from empty beer bottles and cigarette butts; plenty of room for the kid to run around and get his daily dose of exercise and Vitamin D. And we will never be in short supply of deluxe cuisine as we’ll be in close proximity to the communal dumpster. Just think of the resale value.”

“Ha, ha.” Eve snapped, reaching over to lash the side of my arm with her hand. “I only ask because you mentioned before about maybe helping set Shaun and I up in a room in one of the Old Warehouses. I wasn’t sure if that was still going to be the go or not.”

I gave her a serious look. “It all comes down to what _you_ want, darlin’. But mark my words, I was _never_ gonna let you and your boy light on out into the asshole end of the fucking Commonwealth to dig in Brahmin manure all day. It was either here in the Statehouse or I’d give you the money to _buy_ your own place in Goodneighbor; since you’ve pretty much gone and given the finger to Diamond City. And if you picked the latter option, I would have hired some of the boys to be your security team for the rest of your days.”

“Hmm.” Eve mused, looing slightly reproachful as she examined the inside of her wine glass. “Sounds slightly overbearing.”

I shrugged impudently. “Fuck it. I couldn’t go on living if anything happened to you.”

This only caused her to become teary again and her voice broke as she wiped at the corners of her eyes with her fingertips.  

“Don’t say things like that, John.”

“Why not?” I said, perhaps a little more aggressively than was necessary in this instance. But I was tired from holding back my feelings for her. And she might have been a sensitive woman but she wasn’t such a soft touch that she couldn’t handle a good hard dose of reality. “It’s the gods’ honest truth. Few times I thought I mighta lost you out there in the Commonwealth was bad enough. I don’t reckon I’d be able to live with the pain if you were to die. Rather put a bullet through the roof of my mouth than try.”

“And what about all that stuff you promised me?” Eve shot back, just as belligerent and self-righteous in her tone as I had been. Her green eyes blazed like a jewel Daisy had shown me in a ring that she’d kept from before the war. An _emerald_ she had called it. “Like finding Shaun if anything were to happen to me; giving him a home? I’ve put my faith in you in regards to these things, John. It gave me peace to know that if I died, you would go to the ends of the earth to get Shaun back. To support him, for _me_.”

I swivelled around on the sofa so that I could face her more completely, crooking my inside leg up so that my knee twisted in towards the cushions. “And I _would_ get him back. Set him up, make sure he was well taken care of. Might very well leave him everything in my back pocket. But I don’t think I could ever get over losing you.” I reached over, tucking some of her loose hair behind her ear and then running my fingers down her cheek towards her chin. The pain in my chest was bad enough from the thought _alone._ “Hopefully I’ll never have to find out how that feels.”

Eve was silent for a long while after this. She turned her gaze from me and sipped her wine, appearing to mull over what I was saying. She didn’t look angry or aggrieved by my words but she was definitely putting them through some deep consideration. Once again, I felt bad for dumping on her.

“I’m sorry.” I said. “I don’t mean to overload you with this crap. I don’t want you feeling awkward or… creeped out. I know this is some pretty heavy shit.”

“I don’t feel creeped out.” Eve said. She looked into my eyes with great intensity. “Not at all. I mean, I’m puzzled but I’m not creeped out.”

Now it was my turn to be confused. “What do you mean ‘puzzled?’”

Eve ran her hand back through her hair, looking extremely vulnerable somehow. “Well, because… You’re talking about these strong feelings you’ve been having and for some time apparently. I just… I can’t see what I’ve done to deserve them.” She paused for a moment; glancing about the room with a inquisitive expression on her face. “You know, I think I rather fancy a smoke. Do you mind?”

“Knock yourself out.” I said, wondering even as I made the offer where I had in fact left my cigarettes. Then I realized that they were still in the pocket of my coat, which I’d left slung over the sofa in the main sitting area. There was another pack in the bedside table though and I went to retrieve both them and the lighter that I kept there. “But… um… we’ll have ‘em outside if that’s okay.”

Eve gave me a knowing smile. “Trying to keep the rooms smelling purdy?”

I bobbed my head from side to side. “Well… trying not to make them smell… worse, really. I know it’s a bit snotty but…”

“Not at all. It’s fine, darling.” Eve said, grunting a little as she struggled, belly first up off of the sofa. I felt a warm burst of relief flood my chest to hear her refer to me as ‘darling’ again. I gathered that if she had any true fears about encouraging my affections, she would have desisted from using such endearments. “Wouldn’t mind trying to catch a cool breeze anyhow.”

We took our drinks and the packet of smokes and trotted out through the doorway and into the balmy afternoon heat. The sun was still strobing down as determinedly as ever and I once again felt grateful for the protection of my hat. I balanced my beer carefully on the balcony so that I could light up my smoke. Eve held hers pinched between her lips, leaning in over the flame I exhumed from the lighter. Her cheeks pinched in and out momentarily as she drew on the cigarette. Once it had caught, she leaned back, puffing out the smoke she had taken into her lungs in one long uninhibited stream.

“Thanks, honey.” She said, punctuating the intake from her cigarette with a sip from her wine. I took up my beer again, watching as she pinched out the front of her singlet top and used it to fan her chest. Because I was a little taller than her, I was able to catch a glimpse of her breasts from this angle. Only the inner and upper curves but because they weren’t confined by a bra, they jostled a little from the movement of her arm. “Oh… that’s nice.”

“I’ll say.” I said, having once again opened my mouth before really considering what I was saying. Eve whipped her head towards me, noticed where my eyes were aimed before I was able to adjust the angle and then very pointedly released her top; patting and smoothing it firmly back into place with her hand.

“Anyhow… what was I saying?”

I made a little ‘hmmm’ sound as I turned and looked out over the portion of Goodneighbor that was visible from the balcony. It looked like Adrian had finally made his way back to the stage to help out Magnolia, thank god. A few of the nosier bastards had paused in their comings and goings to take a gander at Eve and myself; curious, I think, as to what was developing between us.

“I believe you were trying to get your little blonde noggin around how someone like me could have gone and fallen in love with you.”

Eve sucked some air in through her teeth, clearly embarrassed. She didn’t look displeased however, which was a decided improvement from the tears I had wrought from her earlier.

“So, it really _is_ love, is it?”

I nodded, no longer concerned with trying to bandy it up. Shit was out in the open now. “Can’t think of what else it might be. And I’ve tried a lot of different shit throughout the years, so my comparison scale is pretty extensive.” I gave her a long look. “Eve… I only wish you had some idea of just what sort of person you are. Then you might be able to understand just how easy falling in love with you was.” I grinned at her. “I’m nuts about you. You are… everything I have ever wanted and needed but never realized I’d been searching for. You’re my… my missing _piece_.”

Her eyes were shining again but there were no tears this time. None that traversed onto her cheeks, anyhow. She turned away from me, looking over Goodneighbor again and sort of shaking her head. Somehow… still confused.

“But… _why?_ ”

“What d’ya mean _‘why?’_ ” I snapped, exasperated. “Ain’t it obvious by now? You gotta know that I had some sorta feelings for you by now.”

“Well… yeah but…” She paused, raking the fingers of the hand holding her cigarette through her hair. Some ash broke free and fluttered down to land on her shoulder. She brushed it away impatiently. “I thought that maybe for you it was mostly physical attraction.” At this, she actually snorted. “Not that I have an easier time believing _that._ ”

I rolled my eyes, quite honestly on the verge of picking her up by the ankles and dangling her over the side of the balcony. _Anything_ to bring the insecure, idiot girl to her senses.

“For fucks sake… you _do_ realize how gorgeous you are, right?” I grumbled, tilting the beer bottle up to my lips and taking another belaboured gulp of the contents. Couple more of these and I’d probably be going over the side of the balcony myself.

Eve chuckled mockingly, twirling her finger in a circle beside her face. “Oh yeah. Me and my big-man arms, boy hair and massive ba-donka-donk. I’m a _real_ prize next to the likes of Piper, Cait… oh and mustn’t go forgetting our resident little Super-model Synth Curie.”

I was seriously going to smack her. “You need to take a good hard look in a fucking mirror occasionally, you idiot broad. Not that looks are the be all and end all…” I chuckled lightly. “Lucky for me.”

Eve gave a good natured laugh as she dragged from her cigarette again.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong…” I said, leaning both arms on the balcony and pressing the toe of my boot to the wall. Bending it back like this helped stretch out the cramp I’d sometimes get on the sole of my foot. “The other gals ain’t nothin’ ta sneeze at. Far from it. But you seem to have this insane notion that they’re somehow strides ahead of you when it comes to looks.” I shook my head, bemused by the thought. “And they ain’t. You’re just as beautiful as _any_ of ‘em. More, even. You’re in a league all of your own, chicken.”

“Yeah, the fucking bush league.” Eve said with another derisive snort. This time, I did smack her. Hard on her supposedly massive ‘ba-donka-donk’, which caused her to yelp as she jerked forward; her wine slopping up over the lip of the glass and onto the balcony wall. “Oh my God, I could have _fallen_ just then you fucking douche!”

“Good. Might have knocked some sense into that big stubborn head of yours.” I snapped, shaking my cigarette at her before bringing it back to my own mouth for a drag. “Now listen up. You know I hate hearing that self-pitying fucking bullshit. When you start playing into all that self-doubt, _that’s_ when you let all those asshole kids who bullied you way back when win. And whose opinion would you trust more anyway? Those little twats? Or _mine_?”

Eve thought on this for a moment and I wondered if she was surprised that I had retained that information. About the torment she had endured in her youth; being bullied for the fact that she was a bit of a tomboy and a jock. Not to mention her indigenous heritage. She had a hard time around teenagers as a result and I honestly think that their cruel, immature abuses had brainwashed her to an extent. Definitely given her some bloody form of body dysmorphia, _that’s_ fore damn sure.

After a moment, she lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug; looking embarrassed. “Well… yours, of course.”

“Then shut up and start believing it. Besides, I don’t intend to keep trying to convince you if you’re only going to keep shooting me down. I don’t care much for wasting my time.” I straightened up, smiling as I closed the slight space between us. “You’re damn easy on the eyes, Munch. Ya got curves that don’t quit, that big goofy smile –” I placed my beer down so I could run my fingertips across her slightly parted mouth. “– those sexy lips…”

She was trembling a little but managed to force a wobbly looking smirk onto her face. “Cait called ‘em B-BJ lips.”

I chortled a little, understanding the reference for what it was because I too had had this very thought. I’d daydreamed about it on more than one occasion, in fact.

“Hmm well… after hearing your golf ball story, I think she might just be onto something.” I leaned in, giving her a moment to see if she’d back off but she met me right there in the centre. Her mouth was closed to start but parted with an audible wet pluck of the lips. I didn’t go in too hard and heavy, reminding myself that she was still trying to work shit out in her head and didn’t need me putting additional pressure on her. So I left her after a moment, pecking the side of her lips lightly and then gazing into her face. I sighed and shook my head; wondering whether there was another man on earth who could possibly feel this way. To experience such adoration of a person that your heart just… _ached_ with it.

“And you know darlin’… you got the most _beautiful_ eyes I’ve ever goddamned seen. You’re quite a package.” I trailed my hand down her back, onto her ass and gave her another reproachful smack. There was a soft jiggle beneath my palm that sent a stirring flex into my groin and so I took my hand away quickly before I played into the temptation to squeeze. I picked up my beer instead and slurped from it. “God knows why you’d ever feel the need to be self-conscious around _me._ ”

“I’m sorry.” She murmured and she did indeed look very sorry. And a little embarrassed for getting carried away in having a go at herself. “It’s… just hard for me to get my head around. I’m not as wonderful as you’re making me out to be. I’m just a… normal gal, you know? And a sorta chunky one at that.”

I laughed, shaking my head in mirth. “You’re hardly _normal,_ thank God. But you’re every bit as great as I think. Chunky or no. You’re terrific. Not to mention all the shit we’ve gone through together, you and I.” I gestured at her with my beer. “For fucks sake, Munch, we got ready to die together down in the asshole end of the _Rolling Ranch_. Ain’t a time in my life I ever felt as sad, in love and at peace as I did in that moment.” I cocked my head at her, earnestly wondering. “Didn’t you feel that we were… kind of… already a couple?”

Eve smiled and flicked her hair up out of her eyes. “Yeah… most of the time, I did.” She leaned over, knocking me lightly with her shoulder. “My subby-hubby.”

She definitely seemed to be feeling better about the whole development and I allowed myself to feel a flush of hope. I grinned at her and lifted my brows, enquiring.

“Well then?”

She shrugged, looking bashful. “I uh… I just… I mean, you’re so casual, a part of me thought that maybe you were just angling for sex. That you’d be happy with some kind of ‘friends with benefits’ thing?”

I frowned slightly at her, thinking of the few times that we had come close to having sex and I’d put a stop to it. “You don’t reckon we might have already slept together if that was the case? I _do_ seem to recall _me_ putting the brakes on with _you_ a few times and not the other way around.”

“Fair point.” She acquiesced, puffing at her smoke and then taking another sip of wine. After a few passing moments of silence, she said. “Is this… _really_ what you want though? A whole… instant family type deal? I mean, this sort of life is _really_ gonna cramp your style. You won’t be able to just… come and go as you please anymore. Not when there’s a child to consider.”

I reached out, running my hand down her arm. “I want _you,_ Eve. You and everything else that’s a part of you.”

Her eye contact was firm and unwavering; she wanted my full attention and I gave it because I could see how serious she was about the whole thing. “I don’t want you just saying that because you’re all giddy in the head right now. Because… if you and I are together, it would mean being involved with Shaun. You don’t need to try and be his father but…”

I maintained eye contact with her as I raised my beer and slurped from it. “What would make _you_ comfortable, Munch?”

She pursed her lips in; eyes creasing with emotion. “I would… _like_ to think that you would… _want_ to act as a… step-father to him. Maybe, I mean… I know you never wanted kids of your own…”

Oh boy… time for _another_ one that was likely to shock her. And I couldn’t imagine it would altogether please her, either. “Eve, I never _not_ wanted kids. I just… never met anyone I wanted to have them _with_.” I could see the look in her eyes, the sudden dawning realization and the clutch of sadness that suddenly seized her heart. I took her hand in mine and gave it a small squeeze; trying to comfort her. “But with you… for the first time in my life, I actually _want_ this. You’re the kind of person that makes me _want_ to be a father; the kind of woman I could see myself making babies with.” Her face flushed at this but she nodded, seeing where I was coming from, I think. “In any event, it’s too late for me now… as a Ghoul we can’t ever have any of our own and I know you don’t want any more-” She nodded very firmly at this and I felt it might have broken my heart if I myself had been capable of having children. Perhaps it was a very good thing that I was sterile; we would never need to have that devastating, perhaps relationship destroying argument. “- but… if you’re comfortable with it and Shaun’s comfortable with it… I’d be thrilled to have the chance to be a part of the boy’s life. Granted he doesn’t run screaming at the first sight of me.”

Eve nodded slowly, her mouth twitching up in the corners to form the slightest hint of a smile. Her eyes welled again and she murmured ‘Sorry’ as she used the back of her hand to ease the tears from the creases of her eyes. After collecting herself, she took another little sip of wine and then laughed as a thought seemed to cross her mind.

“I’m sorry to say but I don’t think Dogmeat’s willing to accept you as his ‘real dad’ just yet.”

I gave a tired little chuckle. “Guess you can’t win ‘em all. We’ll play some catch and talk it out. Might have to bribe him with a side of rib-eye every night for dinner but… you’re worth it.”

She chuckled in return, crossing one arm over her chest so that the cigarette now dangled near her hip.

“So… you’d be happy then for your life to change like that?” She asked, looking at me a little doubtfully. I think she was trying to put me to the test. “Me and my kid, my dog and my robot; shacked up with you in the Statehouse?”

I wasn’t going to be scared away from this. “More than happy, Munch. Fucking ecstatic. It’s not the life I’ve been used to but Christ, I walked outta Goodneighbor because I didn’t know _what_ the hell I wanted anymore. What kind of life I was searching for.” I smiled at her, my heart thudding affectionately in my chest. “Now I know where I finally belong. Right here, at your side. I just want you and your boy to be happy and safe; as much as you possibly can, given all the shit that this world’s thrown your way already.”

I kept hoping I would bring her defences down with these disarming sorts of statements. They were genuine of course and quite impulsive and one hundred percent from the heart but I did say them with every intention that they might assuage her doubts and close off the conversation. But Eve was equally determined to get all the facts straight before letting me get my paws properly on her, it seemed.

“Because you know it won’t be like it was when we’ve been wandering, John.” She now said and in such a straight, unaffected voice you would think she hadn’t been at all swayed by my earlier, pretty damn romantic, statement. “I mean, I’m sure you and I could have time to ourselves to tack on a couple of adventures and I know we’d always have fun no matter where we are or what we’re doing – but it’ll be a much quieter life than you’re accustomed to.” She waved her hands; wine sloshing and cigarette ash flaking off everywhere. “Don’t get me wrong, darl. I don’t plan on being a kept woman. Nick offered me a job at the agency as his partner, so… we’d both stay busy… Shaun could be in school during the day…”

I slugged back the last of my beer and used my thumb and index finger to feather out the remaining ash from my cigarette. “It’s up to you, sweetheart. I just…” I sighed, flicking the cigarette butt into the ashtray nearby and reaching out to press my hand gently to her hip. I figured I’d take one last stab at charming her into acceptance. “I think we could have a brilliant life together. And I promise; I’ll spend every day doing whatever the hell I possibly can to make you and that boy of yours happy again. I know it ain’t gonna be the life you had back then and I ain’t gonna try and convince myself that I could do half as good a job as your old man could-”

She shook her head, looking sad for me. “John, you don’t ever have to compare yourself to Nate. There’s no _point_.”

“You see, that _is_ the point.” I gently disagreed. “I wouldn’t try to compare. All I can do, is try to love you even half as well as he did. And if I can manage that, well… maybe it’ll help him rest peaceful, you know?”

Eve smiled again and glanced upward, her eyes shining. Looked like I might be winning the war after all.

“Shit…” She muttered, rubbing at the makeup that had bled down into the lines under her eyes. “You know… you are really starting to sell me on this.”

“Hey, I’ve been a Ghoul for ten years, Munch. I’ve gotten pretty good at presenting unattractive things in an appetizing way.”

She laughed and held up her finger in front of my nasal cavity; indicating that she still had more she wished to say. “Okay… but one other thing: I mean, we can’t go forgetting that you’re going to be living for a long goddamned time, darling. Long enough to see me, Shaun – maybe _Shaun’s_ children die. Don’t you think that’s going to be painful for you? And kind of gross?”

“Gross?” I asked, confused.

“Well… yeah. I mean, you’re gonna stay all taut and tight, such as you are, and I on the other hand am going to get old and gray and… wrinkly. Doesn’t that bother you?”

I think she truly believed that she had brought something out for inspection that I myself hadn’t lent any consideration to as of yet. As to this, she was entirely off the mark. I _had_ thought about it. Long and hard and it culminated in perhaps what might have been the most surprisingly easy decision of my life. Which I’m sure would be astonishing to most people, given that it would result in the greatest of sacrifices and went entirely against the grain of nature itself.

I ran my palm across Eve’s cheek. “What bothers me most is that I couldn’t live two hundred years with you by my side. And anyway, I think it’d be a bit fucking crap of me to turn up my nasal cavity at you after you’ve tolerated my… well _this._ ” I gestured down along the line of my own body, which got a laugh at of her at least. “In any event; I _have_ thought about it. Long and damn hard. And you know… immortality… doesn’t mean much without someone to share it with. So either _you_ find a way to live forever with me or, most likely, you and I share this one perfect life together.” I brushed my thumb across her lips, leaning close and lowering my voice. Not that there was any need but I wanted to speak softly to her because it was a hard and painful conversation to have. “And if for some reason, I manage to avoid assassination, accidental overdose, another coup and outlive you, well I don’t plan on seeing out any more time in this world without ya. It’s as simple as that.”

Instead of pitching over backwards with romantic delirium at my words, Eve just sighed impatiently as she cupped the back of my hand.

“You don’t _know_ that.” She said, shaking her head as though I was being short-sighted and naïve. “Who’s to say what the future holds? You may find someone else to love after I’m gone. You may have a long life of _many_ perfect loves.”

The very idea that I would be expected to move on after she had died, made me as angry as a Stunted Yao Guai. It made me angry at the imaginary, theoretical women that might have sauntered on in to try and take her place. The thought of it was impudent and disrespectful. And all too revealing in its most intrinsic level. For this was perhaps how Eve herself must have felt when Nate had died… and the feelings she was currently attempting to alleviate, now that she was finding herself moving on with me.

It didn’t much sway me from my own stubbornness however. “There will only _ever_ be one perfect love for me, Eve. I’ve been around almost fifty fucking years and I have never met anyone who moved me the way that you have. There is _no one_ who could _ever_ come close.” I slugged back the last of my beer, feeling very surly. “Anyhow, done talking about this. Ya wanna head back in?”

Thankfully, Eve chose not to pursue the topic any further and simply stubbed out the last of her cigarette in the ashtray. I suppose she figured that there would be no point in arguing as it was, 1. My decision, 2. It was a factor that would only be challenged in the passing of time and 3. She knew me well enough to know that once I started getting broody and grumpy there was no point in trying to convince me of anything. I could be a tenacious old fart like that.

“Yeah, darl. All good.” She said, giving me a little smile. Eve often found it funny when I got grumpy; which usually only put me in a worse mood than the one I was in already. I ignored her, turning to open the door and steering her inside by placing my palm on the small of her back. I decided to leave the door open to let some cool air in, as the inside of the room was still sweltering,

“You wanna refill?” I asked, making my way back over to the fridge for another beer. Eve laughed as she flopped down onto the sofa again.

“Oh Jesus… we are gonna be _so_ polluted.” She said, holding her glass up over her shoulder nonetheless. “But you’ve twisted my arm. Go on then.”

I brought the bottle over to her and poured out another helping. There was probably less than a glass remaining now and I wondered how Eve was doing. She certainly seemed a lot more relaxed, which was a welcome fucking relief. I nestled down beside her on the sofa and noticed that her eyes had taken on that dreamy, vague quality they often did when she got a bit tipsy. I moved a little closer this time; so that the bottoms of her feet pressed to my shin. She sat with her back pressed against the right hand arm of the sofa, legs curled up in front of her.

“Well, it seems like you’ve got an answer for everything, John.” She said, after we had both taken a moment to glug from our respective drinks.

“One of my best and most annoying qualities.” I replied, smirking in a way that I feel hadn’t quite reached both corners of my mouth. Looks like the beer might have finally made its way to my head. I was going to be in trouble with Fahrenheit, when I finally came staggering on down to do the stall inspections. Another half hour with Eve and I probably wouldn’t be capable of stringing a coherent sentence together.

“Question is…” Eve said, waving her arms from side to side like a set of balancing scales. “Where do we go from here?”

I made a point of shifting myself up on the sofa, peering over her shoulder at the other end of the room. Eve followed my gaze, saw I was staring at the bed and lashed me on the arm as reward for my cheekiness.

“Seriously.”

“Well… where would you _like_ for it to go?”

She brushed her fingers back through her hair. “I just… well for example… how do we define what just happened between us? Clearly these have been far from friendly kisses… so… are we… seeing each other now? Are we boyfriend and girlfriend? Is that what you guys say in this time?”

I nodded. “We say those things yeah. Sometimes we say girlfriend and Ghoulfriend.” I winked at her as I took another belt from my beer. “Me personally; I’ve always been more partial to the term ‘lover’.”

“I just _bet_ you have” She said, smiling at me suggestively as she tapped her foot against the side of my leg. “But don’t you have to be sleeping together to refer to one another as ‘lover’?”

“A minor specification in requirements that can be…” I smiled as I leant over, the beer making me all the more audacious as I started placing slow, languid kisses against her neck. “… easily remedied.”

Eve pushed me back with just the tips of her fingers and I nearly pitched over the arm of the sofa before righting myself. Jesus, the beer _must_ have been having more of an effect on me than I realized if my balance was starting to go like that. Eve hadn’t even put much force into her thrust.

“Oi, neck me _after_ you’ve given me an answer to my question, please.” She said, biting back laughter as I shuffled about trying to right myself. I sighed, very impatient for all this ‘talk, talk, talk’ to be over with. I felt loose and cheerful after all the beer I’d drunk and all I really wanted to do now was hold her in my arms, kiss her and run my hands over every inch of her body. But it wasn’t going to be happening with her shields still up. I needed to respect that there were reasons for her to remain guarded.

“Fine.” I grumbled and she laughed a little, giving my arm a sympathetic rub. At least she could see that I was going to great strains in practicing patience. “Far be it from me to quibble over semantics but… I’d consider that the fact that we kissed like a couple outta one of your dopey books and have been passing the smooches ever since, should be an indication that we like each other enough to perhaps qualify for relationship status.” I waved my hands in the air. “Just a crazy thought.”

“I know I’m being a pain asking for it to be spelt out.” She said, tilting her head and smiling at me in such a lovely way that my annoyance with her all but evaporated. “I just want to know how serious you’re taking this.”

“ _Very_ serious.” I affirmed, smiling at the amusing nature of my thoughts. “Kinda feel a bit long in the tooth to refer to myself as someone’s ‘boyfriend’ but if that’s the term that suits you for everything else you think it should entail then… I guess that’s what I am. Sure as shit wouldn’t mind referring to you as my ‘girlfriend’. Makes me sound young again.” I sipped from my beer and gestured towards her with my finger. “Just FYI; we normally say ‘missus’ and ‘old man’ round these parts.”

“You can refer to me as the ‘missus’ if you like. Not sure if I’ll be referring to you as the ‘old man’ though.” She curled her upper lip. “People might make fun.”

“Bastards are just jealous you’ll be grinding the mayor.” Eve slapped my arm again. “Hey, you _knew_ what you were getting into.”

“And yet I went there anyway.” She sighed and then smiled as she reached across to give the back of my hand a stroke. “Were you uh… interested in seeing other people, still?”

I stared down the line of my beer at her, forgoing the drink I was going to take in favour of replying. “Given that I staved off female contact for an entire year Munch, do you really think I’d wanna go trolling about for skirt now that I finally have _you_? Short answer: No. I’m not interested in seeing anyone else.” I turned my hand over so that I could clasp her fingers to my palm; squeezing her. “You’re the only one I’m interested in being with. Why? You still wantin’ to chase round all that pipe you had to fend off during our travels together?”

She gave me a warning look. “Careful how you say that. And no, I’m not interested in ‘chasing pipe’. Or being with anyone else. Barely have the energy for one man, let alone two or three.  It’d be you or no one at this stage, darl.” She took a sip from her wine. “I just thought you might want to keep it light to start with… not put too much pressure on yourself to commit right away.”

“Munch, I think that ship might have sailed when I told you I’d probably pull a Romeo and Juliet if anything happened to you.” I said sarcastically and she gave a grudging little nod. As though she ought to have known better when she asked the question.

“I just… wasn’t sure if you saw love and sex as being mutually exclusive or not.”

I rolled my eyes, bringing my beer bottle down so hard against my thigh that the contents sloshed and fizzled. “Jesus Eve, not to sound crude but I’m done fucking around out there. You’re not the type I plan to go wandering on; emotionally or physically.” I raised her knuckles to my lips and kissed them. “You’re _all_ I want, sweetheart. One hundred percent.”

She smiled, turning her fingers about to stroke underneath my chin. “Well… that’s a relief. I can’t say I’m exactly into the idea of sharing. One of the reason’s I could never go through with a threesome.” She extended a finger towards me, her expression severe. “And I know you’re quite a bit more… experimental than me darling but please don’t bother ever suggesting one. Not unless you bring another dude, _then_ I might consider it.”

I laughed, scratching at my chin which tickled a bit from her earlier contact. “There’d be no short list of fella’s who would tolerate seeing _me_ in the altogether just for a chance at you I’m sure, Munch. But I ain’t exactly keen on sharing either.” I leaned over to rub her knuckles again. “All these little queries for me and yet all I can wonder is whether you actually want this for yourself, Eve. Have you had a real good hard think about _that?_ ”

She arched her brow at me. “What… even after I waddled on into town and _kissed_ you?”

“Even then. I mean, I understand the hesitation. Hell, the fear. Who’d want to wake up to this mug every morning?” I glanced off to the side; aware that for all the pleasure I took in her appearance, she would never take much in mine. Whatever she saw in me, it definitely wasn’t my looks and I wasn’t gonna try and kid myself otherwise. “Never wish that on anyone I cared for.”

I respected the fact that Eve didn’t go all out in trying to convince me of something we both knew wasn’t true. She was kind but she respected folks enough to not try and undermine their intelligence like that. “I admit… it’s not as straightforward for me but… what I do know is how hellish these past few weeks have been without you. Not having you sleeping beside me, watching my back in a fight… I just… I wanted to be back with you so _bad_ it hurt. I missed you so much. I… I just don’t _work_ without you anymore.” She smiled at me sadly, clutching my hand tight between her fingers. Her chest swelled up and her shoulders lifted towards her ears in that sweet, vulnerable little shrug of hers that I found so endearing. “Which means, I think… that I love you.”

They were the words I had been dying to hear but it was sometimes very hard to trust Eve because she would often say or do things that she didn’t like, just to try and make someone feel better. For all her talk about expectations regarding my changes to Goodneighbor, she herself was very prone to playing into this weakness herself. It made it difficult to know if she meant it.

I smiled, giving her what I hope was a patient, understanding look. “Darlin’, you don’t gotta force yourself to say it just because I did. I ain’t tryin’ to put that pressure on you before you’re ready-”

It wasn’t her words that interrupted me, but the fervent, furious look in her eyes that cut into my heart as profoundly as the blade of an untarnished razor. She shuffled forward on the sofa, her brows creased down as her hand pressed to mine all the tighter; demanding my attention.

“Who I fall for,” She said. “Is _my_ decision.” She paused and cocked her head at me. Her smile was as loving as any I had ever seen and with her brows now gently arching away from her eyes, I saw that they too spoke only of deep and genuine affection. The kind of feelings that for her, were impossible to fake, regardless of her incentives. “And… I’ve fallen for _you._ ”

For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. It all seemed very surreal and a part of me wanted to rail at it; to refuse to believe that what I was experiencing could at all be possible. To receive her kiss was one thing but to then further receive the admission of her love? I had started this very day doubting that Eve might have felt anything for me other than friendship and _now_ here she was telling me that not only did she want to be with me… but that she was also _in love_ with me. Knowing that I loved her; knowing what it would mean to say it in return.

We’d never been on a proper date. We’d never made love. We had no idea if we could even survive as a couple but we had traversed ever further nonetheless, into that place that people who had experienced those other intimacies sometimes never found. It seemed so strange to me and yet… I was exhilarated for it.

There was no fear in it. No desire to run, to break away from this thing that bound us now so inexorably together. Rather I craved to be _closer_ to her; closer than ever before. To wrap her up in my arms, guide myself inside and take her to places that no man had ever shown her before.

And yet I found myself unable to move; overwhelmed and needing a moment to pull myself together. I took another gulp of my beer, put it back down and turned to her. I smiled, which was the smallest, _tiniest_ hint of the feelings that were welling up inside of me at that time.

“Well… I _never_ would have expected a lapse in judgment like that from you.” I said, tilting my head at her. “But… I guess that works out for _me_ then, doesn’t it?” I reached up and stroked the backs of my fingers down her cheek. I was mindful still of the bruises and tried to keep clear of them. “Just to be clear; you’re not worried about the, um… the age difference?”

Eve snorted with laughter and broke away from my fingers long enough to sip from her glass. “No offense darling but I don’t see you as being much older than me.” She held up her finger, preventing me from speaking whilst she swallowed her wine and then added, “Which you’re not, if you think about it. Technically, I’m older than you.”

I mused on that. “ _Technically_ but not really. You were frozen at age twenty-eight and you’ve since turned twenty-nine. You’re still a young woman, whereas I’m hurtling ever closer to middle age.” I gazed at her; genuinely interested. “It doesn’t bother you? I mean… I suppose you could argue that I’m old enough to be your father.”

Eve certainly didn’t look bothered by it. I think it may in fact have bothered _me_ a little more than it did her. And it wasn’t as though I ever gave these matters much thought. Most of the girls I hooked up in the past with were in fact _younger_ than Eve was but I hadn’t been trying to make a go of it with any of them.

“If you had a kid when you were eighteen, yeah. But when I’m with you, I don’t see us as being any different simply because of an age gap. I mean _I’m_ incredibly mature and _you_ are incredibly childish.” She got a little chuckle out of me with this. “So we kinda balance one another out.”

I nodded, thinking to tease her a little. “Hmm, yes. I seem to recall how mature you were when we stumbled across that playground and you started thrashing around on the rocket shaped spring rider like an overexcited kid on too much Melon juice.”

Eve burst out laughing and quickly scooped her hand up to cover her mouth, which only made her snort and produce raspberries into her palm instead.

“Oh my god, that’s _right!_ Oh, the look on Nick’s face…”

“The look on _everyone’s_ face when the spring broke and it threw you face first onto the ground.”

Her laughter eased off into not quite so amused titters. “Yeaaaah…. That wasn’t quite so funny.”

“Speak for yourself.” I said, grinning at the memory. “Deacon and I were laughing so hard it was all we could do to stay on the seesaw. Cait fell right off the swings.”

“I nearly broke my fucking nose!” Eve exclaimed, offended that I could take so much pleasure in seeing her injured.

“Well, that’s what you get for being a dickhead.” I said, looking away from her as I sipped my beer; knowing that this was going to push her buttons and work her up all the more. Unlike Fahrenheit however, Eve didn’t mind getting picked on, so long as the person doing the picking was someone she was affectionate with. Which clearly included me. She laughed all the more as she reached over to swat at the side of my face.

“Mean boy.” She chuckled, picking up her wine and taking another sip. “You keep throwing up all these road blocks John and I’ll start thinking it’s _you_ who has insecurities. Isn’t it enough proof that I stuck my tongue down your throat?”

“Dunno…” I pondered. “It’s a scorcher of a day out there. Ya could be suffering from some kind of heat stroke induced delirium.”

“Could be.” She reached out to take my hand. “Or could be that I actually care about you? John… I kissed you because I _wanted_ to. Because I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much it helped me to realize that I _don’t_ want to be without you. I want you in my life every single _day_.” She shrugged, smiling gently. “What _is_ that if it’s not love?”

I cocked my head at her. “Mild cerebral haemorrhage?”

She smacked me again.

“I’m kidding!” I said, giving her a now serious look as I took her hand and stroked her fingers. “What you gotta understand kid is that for _me…_ this happening… didn’t seem to really be in the realm of possibility. Like _at all._ I mean… yeah, I thought about it happening all the time. Hoped like hell it would. But I wasn’t sure... whether I deserved it. I mean, I’m definitely getting the better end of the deal with this.”

She scoffed, furrowing her brows at me. “How do you figure that?”

“Oh come on. You don’t have to try and play dumb to preserve my feelings.” I gestured to my face. “I know what I am. And I’ve never regretted who and what I am, not for my whole life. Not until… I imagined how I must look through your eyes. I’m ugly in ways that go way deeper than just this mouldy lookin’ skin, darling.”

She looked me right in the eyes. “No you are _not._ How do you suppose I _ever_ would have wanted to be with you if I didn’t appreciate who you were as a person? You have more integrity than just about anyone I have damn near met, John.” The pressure of her fingers tightened about my own; as though her strength would somehow convince me of the verity of her words. “You’re actually prepared to get out there and really stick it to those assholes who go around walking all over everyone else. And despite what you think about some of the choices you had to make as mayor of this town, you have _always_ stood up for the folks who needed your protection and you treat everyone fairly and without judgment. You’re funny and charming and good natured and down to earth…”

“You forgot sexy.”

She laughed and tilted her brow at me reproachfully. “I was getting there.” She squeezed my hand again. “And as for your appearance… I _don’t_ think that you’re ugly. To me, the fact that you’re a Ghoul doesn’t factor into it.”

“Well, it should. And it’s going to have to; your good intentions notwithstanding.” I twined my fingers through hers; all the better for her to appreciate the contrast in our flesh. “Life with a Ghoul isn’t easy for a Smoothskin. There’s a lot of prejudice that mixed couples run up against.”

Eve scoffed. “And you don’t think you and I could deal with that sorta shit? _You_ who doesn’t give a crap about what other people think and _me_ who goes about all but junk punching folks who so much as look sideways at a Ghoul?” Her hand came up and stroked softly over my cheek. She stared into my eyes. “You are _just_ the way I like. Screw anyone who makes you feel ashamed.”

Perhaps it was all the beer I had drunk, combined with the fact that she had just openly told me that she loved me but I was feeling daring. I took her hand from my cheek, turning it over so I could trail my fingertips across her palm.

“Wasn’t thinking about the folks doing the shaming…” I purred, lifting her hand to my mouth and slowly kissing her fingertips; pulling them in between my lips and gently sucking on each one. Eve’s face flushed but she managed to keep it together; flashing me a stern, knowing look.

“Is that something that we need to be talking about as well, do you think?”

I chuckled softly at her as I kissed the pad of her ring finger; lightly scraping my teeth against the sensitive flesh. “Sex… you mean?”

She shrugged, looking distracted and nervous. I think I might have finally been getting the upper hand. When next she spoke, her voice was tight and breathless.

“I just think… as um _adults_ … it might be prudent of us to discuss the possibility…”

Now _this_ genuinely upset me and my lips fell loose about her finger. “What do you mean ‘ _possibility?’_ ”

She sighed and gave me a look. “You _know_ what I mean. The ins and outs, no pun intended, on _when_ it happens.”

I smiled as I set her hand down, making a point of dropping it to rest against my knee. I couldn’t pretend that this was a conversation I was sad to be having. Much rather be acting it out than _conversing_ about it but I suppose it _would_ be helpful to have Eve tell me just where her boundaries and expectations lay. This way, I would know just when and how far to push things without running the risk of upsetting her.

“Well I’m all up for discussing it. Is there… anything in particular that… worries you? I mean-” I snorted and gestured down towards my body. “-apart from the obvious?”

Eve’s hand caressed my knee, sliding even further down towards my inside thigh. I could have crooned for the sweetness of the touch. I wanted it to go further, to brush against where I was feeling hard once more but she steered clear for the moment.

“Darling, I’ve already seen you completely naked.” She murmured, leaning in so close that our faces were almost touching. Her shoulder had curled in towards her cheek, forming a visage that, coupled with the breathy susurration of her voice, made me think she was intentionally flirting. The suggestive curl of her smile only confirmed it. “I’m not uh… overly concerned with the bare skin to skin… aspect.”

I felt my brows slide up into my forehead; quite of their own volition. “Really? Because um… that would make you an exception to the norm.”

“What? Do most smooth skin girls make you keep your clothes on while you’re doing it?” She looked absolutely dumbfounded when I nodded. “The fuck?! Jesus that seems a bit fucking mean. And kind of gross. You know, all the sweat clogging up your clothes and all…”

I shrugged, sipping on my beer and looking off to the side. It was a sore point with me and one that I didn’t much like bringing to light. “Had a girl tell me once that she felt more comfortable if I kept most of my kit on because once it all came off, it reminded her a bit too much of a Feral and it uh… sorta freaked her out.”

Eve puffed out her lips with disgust. “Oh, what a stupid tart. Feral’s suffer from _massive_ muscle atrophy, they don’t have any sort of definition.” She grumbled irritably to herself as she sipped from her wine once more. “Not to mention their faces look like melted candle wax. You, my darling, have got plenty of muscle going on.” Her eyes took on sort of a… wistful quality as she reached up with her spare hand and cupped my chin. “And with _that_ jaw line, I don’t see your face sliding off anytime soon.”

I felt a burgeoning warmth spread through my chest. Eve had always been generous with her praise of others but to see her looking at me with such heat in her eyes… I thought she might have actually meant it. Somehow… she saw something in me that appealed to her. And she hated the idea that my past lovers had asked me to wear clothes when we’d be together. Perhaps that meant that she… would be different? Just as I’d imagined…

I smiled as I caressed her hand; the hand that was still making movements against my thigh. “So you uh… wouldn’t be put off by the both of us… being naked together?”

I prepared myself to be disappointed. For her to say that she might need for me to wrap a sheet around myself or some shit, or that our only skin to skin contact during sex would be at the groin. But Eve didn’t so much as blink. She just shrugged and gave me a little smile.

“Pretty much my standard when it comes to sex. Not that we need to worry about it for some time, because _I_ only put out after marriage, so…” She gave me a cheeky look as she sipped her wine and I allowed myself to relax. She was joking of course because she herself had told me enough stories of her sexual adventures before _and_ after marriage for me to know she was far from conflicted in regards to putting out.

I smirked at her and winked. “Yeah well, _I’m_ still a virgin, so I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Eve nearly snorted wine out of her nose. She chuckled and wiped at her chin where some had leaked out of her mouth and formed hanging droplets from the indentation of her scar. I watched her, considering everything we had just discussed. Letting it sink in.

“So… you really wanna go for this, huh?”

She was still chuckling, cleaning off her jaw with the palm of her hand. “Eh… figure I’ve got nothing better lined up. Might as well give you a crack.”

“Well _that’s_ romantic.” I said, laughing as I sipped from my beer. Eve smiled, tilting her head to the side and giving me a now serious look.

“I do love you, you know.”

I nodded at her. “Think I’m finally starting to believe it.”

We looked into one another’s eyes and she was finally, eventually silent. I think that all the questions she had, all the concerns, had at long last been satisfied. She waited now to see what _I_ would do. And I knew full well what I wanted. I reached over, cupping my hand to the back of her head.

“Come here.”

I pulled her to me gently and I kissed her; with all the love and the softness she had evoked in me since our very first meeting. My hands trailed down from her arm, to cup the curve of her hip and squeeze to her thigh. When our lips parted, I chuckled a little, pressing a kiss to the tip of her gently sloping nose.

“Moments like this, I know all that karma stuff is _bull._ ” I murmured. “Because no one like me should be this lucky…”

Eve smiled as she pecked me lightly on the mouth. “You _deserve_ to be happy, John. We both do. And we probably deserve to start easing up on ourselves a little bit too.” She kissed me again and I could damn near feel myself melting into her. “I adore you.”

“I love you.” I whispered. “So _much_.” I kissed her again, chuckling with mirth to myself.  “Still can’t believe I’m actually saying those words to you… _finally._ ”

“We should celebrate.” She breathed, her hand shifting from my thigh to caress the line of my chest. The patch of skin that was visible through the part in my shirt. I gave her a little look and then glanced over towards the bed again. Her hand curled into a fist and thumped my chest, knocking a gust of air out of my lungs. I managed to smile as she leaned back on the arm of the sofa, delivering a few light kicks to my shin.

“I didn’t mean like _that,_ Mayor Hump-a-lot! I meant like you and me, doing something special together like… dinner or drinks!”

I grabbed one of her feet as it lashed for me, gently easing off her boot. She stopped kicking when she realized that she might, in fact, be getting a treat. “Well, you can see my confusion, can’t you? A horizontal naked expression of love seems to me the best means of celebrating.” I pulled off the other shoe and groaned as a pungent smell flooded my nasal cavity. “Well _that_ was a mistake.”

Eve pulled a face. “Well excuse _me,_ I _have_ been hiking in the blistering heat all day in case you hadn’t noticed.”

I peeled her socks off one at a time, groaning as I tossed them to the floor. “Smells like something fucking died in your boots.” I picked up one of her shoes and peered inside of it. “Sure there isn’t some dead hunk of Raider just stowing away in your socks or something?”

She wrinkled her nose at me; clearly offended. “Yeah, because _your_ feet smell like a bunch of fucking Hubflowers after you take your boots off.”

I groaned, pressing the side of my cold beer bottle against the base of her foot. I twirled it around, thinking it might help to cool down her core body temperature a little. “Shittin’ Christ almighty. I _must_ be in love to be putting myself through this hell.”

She flinched at the touch of the cold glass and then sighed, sinking against the arm of the sofa as I continued to rub the bottle across her sweaty flesh.

“Then why are you?” She murmured, eyes shut as she leaned back, letting her glass rest on the cushion beneath her. As her back arched, her breasts pressed taught to the front of the flannel shirt. I thought how much better the view would be if that damn thing wasn’t in the way.

“Because I thought your feet must be hot and sore and sweaty. And I _do_ in fact love you enough to deal with the fact that your foot stink smells like something that died by the docks.” I passed the glass over to her other foot. “And pissed and shit on itself _whilst_ it was expiring.”

Eve screwed her face up in anger and tried to yank her feet away, most likely so she could stick their stinky soles in my face but I pinned them down hard and gave her a teasing slap to the thigh for her efforts.

“Bastard.” She said, slugging back some more of her wine and narrowing her eyes at me. “The mean things I could say to you right about now.”

“Yes but you’re much too _mature_ to stoop yourself to my level.” I winked as I checked under her heels and around her feet. There was a number of healing wounds and abrasions; some more raw than others. “Goddamn you’ve picked up a shit tonne of blisters at some point, girl.”

“Ran out of socks for one day out there. Thought I’d try and mosey without them for a while. Big mistake.” She moaned softly, tucking one arm behind her head as I alternated between rubbing her feet and stroking her with the bottle.  “Oh damn… you know how fucking glad I am you don’t have a problem with feet? Nate used to get creeped out by ‘em…”

“Hey, if they didn’t pong so bad, I’d have one of ‘em in my mouth already.” I smiled at her as I lifted one of her feet to my mouth. I kissed the top of it, where the smell wasn’t bad. “They’re so fucking tiny and adorable… they’re like little Munchkin feet.”

“Well _that’s_ appropriate.” She thrashed and twitched a little as I tickled her just above the curve of her heel. “Get out of it. Tell me what you were thinking we could do to celebrate. Apart from naked leap frog.”

“Ah yes. Mine and Mac’s favourite game.” I laughed as I took a slurp from the beer before returning the bottle to the bottom of her foot. “Why don’t I take you on a date tonight?”

She definitely looked interested. “A date, huh?”

“‘Less of course you got other set plans for when you arrived back in town.”

She quirked one of her shoulders up. “Only plans I had in mind were to spend time with you. I think the others were all kind of keen for us to have dinner together; a little reunion of sorts, you know?” She smiled at me. “But I think they’ll understand that you and I need to be spending some time alone together.”

“Depending on where they end up, we could join ‘em for a drink afterward?”

“I should think that would suffice.” She said, sipping from her wine again as she leaned back further to enjoy the pampering she was receiving. “So… What _were_ you thinking for our date tonight? Seeing as how you seem to have everything else worked out in advance.”

I smirked as I ran my thumb up through the arch of her foot. It felt very tight through there and there were a few knots rolling just beneath the surface. I concentrated on flushing these up and back into alignment with the muscle.  “Well… figured I’d give you that little tour of the Eastern Annex if you were up for a wander. Show you some of the new shops we’ve been working on. Then I thought we’d stop somewhere and have dinner.”

“Ah yes; four star dining at the communal cook pot.” She said, giving me a cheeky grin. I raised my brows in her, pretending to be unimpressed.

“Oh, I see how it is now. You become a Mayors girlfriend and suddenly you’re too _good_ for the communal cook pot.”

She laughed at this. “I’m _never_ too good to slurp Mole Rat slurry with the rest of the Goodneighbor down and out set. I simply can’t see that it would be very private. Or romantic.”

“What’s not romantic about slurping liquefied mole rat innards out of an old paper cup?” I tapped her knee gently. “Tell ya what; I’ll grab us a coupla straws and we’ll get one to share. Be like those kids I see in the old ads, hunkered all romantic over a milkshake.” Eve’s face twisted into an expression of unequivocal disgust and she pressed her fingers to her mouth; sort of laughing and dry retching at the same time. “Relax, I’m only having a lend of ya. Wasn’t planning on taking you to the cooking station.”

“Ah. So it’s to be the Third Rail for some of Chuck’s famous _Blamco Mac and Cheese_?” She suggested, not without a hint of sarcasm. I gave the back of her foot a smack.

“Well, _someone’s_ getting a bit precious, aren’t they? Whaddya want, I fucking trot her majesty’s ass over to the _Colonial Taphouse_ for some Deathclaw Wellingham?”

She chuckled guiltily. “I somehow don’t think I’m welcome there any more, darling. And once more, you know I’ve got nothing against Mac and Cheese. Or Chuck. _Or_ the Third Rail. It’s just the privacy thing again.” She sat up from the arm of the sofa, giving me a pointed look. “Don’t you think it would be nice for us just to enjoy one another’s company? Maybe without all the members of the Neighborhood Watch catcalling and whooping it up in the background? Telling you to bend me over and tickle my whiskers?”

I pursed my lips and tilted my head from side to side; as though the question required in depth deliberation. “It’s a bit of a catch twenty-two, my love. I mean, there’s definitely a lot of benefits to being alone with you. An inflated activity list, for one.” I swished the beer bottle from side to side before bringing it up to my lips for another drink. “On the other hand, there’s a pretty childish part of me that kinda just wants to tote you around and show you off to the rest of the folks in Goodneighbor.”

Eve rolled her eyes. “Yeah. All your little lady friends you used to hook up with. I bet they’d be just _thrilled_ to see little old me hanging off of your arm.”

“Honest to God, Munch…” I said, shaking my head a little as I pressed the cold, condensation drenched bottle to her foot again. “I don’t think the majority of them _care_. We’re talking about casual hook ups here and there, not anything with any real feeling behind it.”

Eve gave me that look again; the one which suggested that it was _I_ who was in fact naïve to the ways of the world.  “Oh you _so_ do not know women at _all_ , my darling.” She mused for a moment, tapping her fingertip against the stem of her wine glass and then smiled with genuine feeling as she leaned in towards me again. “Tell you what… how about _I_ make us dinner? You pick somewhere for us to go and we’ll do like a… little picnic kind of thing. It’ll be fun.”

I raised my brow at her uncertainly. “You and I picnicking in Goodneighbor? Sounds like an invitation to get my underpants yanked up my crack.” I stuck my tongue from the corner of my mouth impertinently. “You know… if I wore them that is.”

Eve pulled a face and smacked out at my wrist. “Okay, well don’t call it a picnic then. And I wasn’t thinking we’d be doing it out where everyone can see us. Pick somewhere private where it can be just the two of us. You can make us up a couple of cocktails, I’ll put on something pretty...”

“But that doesn’t seem fair, Munch. I mean, you just got back inta town… you probably haven’t had a night off from cooking yet, keeping that bunch fed.” I stroked the back of her foot. “Don’t you just want to relax and not have to worry about any of that shit?”

She smiled, rubbing the foot that wasn’t currently being caressed against the top of my thigh. “I wouldn’t mind cooking for you. Not at all. I could whip up some of those Salsa burgers you like.”

Oh God, my mouth was already watering at the thought. I tried to keep cool about the idea but I was already fairly seduced in by it. I even had an idea as to where we could go; though I’d need some time to prep everything before whisking Eve away there. I petted the back of her foot and she laughed, seeing I think that it was impossible for me to hide the very happy smile that had hoisted up the corners of my lips almost as far as my temples.

“Ya know… that sounds _awesome_ , Munch. Just so long as… you’re cool with it.” She nodded to show that she didn’t mind. “I’ll make the drinks and the rest of the arrangements. But… don’t push yourself, okay? You’ll need to rest after walking all day.”

“Honey, I am feeling _juust_ fine right now.” She assured me, smirking as she took another sip from her wine. “Might sneak back in here for a little nanna nap later if that’s cool with you. But apart from that, throwing together some burgers won’t be too much effort.” She gave me a sweet, almost bashful little look. “I just want to be with you.”

Her words made me feel a little flustered, not to mention the way that she was looking at me. Even with the door open it felt hot as hell in the room and getting muggier by the second. I abandoned Eve’s foot temporarily to fan the collar of my shirt against my chest, trying to cool off the skin that was sweaty and tepid beneath. Eve immediately noticed my discomfort of course and gestured towards me with a flick of her finger.

“You getting a bit hot and bothered there, darl?”

Did she _really_ have any cause to be surprised at this? “Just a little stuffy in here is all. I’m fine, don’t mind me. I’ll just crack another of the windows.” I gently lifted her legs out of my lap and she curled them back in towards herself so that I could climb to my feet. I made my way over to one of the town facing windows; jerking the latch to the side so that I could push the glass pane out.

“Why don’t you just take your shirt off?” Eve asked, to which she received a disdainful snort in return. When I turned back to look at her, her brows were furrowed with genuine annoyance. “What? Ain’t no one else here to see but me.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” I said, making my way back to the sofa. I pressed both hands over my chest, like a woman attempting to cover her exposed breasts.  “Having a lustful, insatiable creature like you oogling at all my vulnerable flesh.”

She laughed, looking surprised as she glugged back another gulp of her wine. “When the hell did _you_ go and get all bashful? In case it suits you to forget mister, I _have_ seen you bare ass naked already.”

“Yeah, I know.” I mumbled, attempting to stone wall her to a degree as I sat back down on the sofa. I took my beer up again and drank from it. My head was feeling extremely foggy now. It must have been a combination of the heat and the beer but I certainly felt a lot more affected by the alcohol than I usually did. It made it difficult to concentrate; to remain in control of my faculties.

“Then what’s the big deal? Come on, if you’re feeling uncomfortable just pitch the bloody thing.”

Like a dog with a bloody bone. “It’s a bit different now, Eve.”

“How?” She asked softly; her tone perplexed. “Because we’re involved?”

“Well… yeah, there is that.”

Eve struggled up from the sofa. “Oh don’t be so silly.” She stepped around me, to the narrow gap that existed between myself and the arm of the sofa on my far left side and sank down into it. I heard the snap of her fingers and my body went cool with a burst of unbidden excitement. “Come on with it now.”

I sighed, my head weary, wishing she could understand why I might have had my trepidations. “Eve, you don’t…” The will to fight lessened by the moment and was obliterated all but entirely as Eve’s hands slid up under my arms and over my chest. My breath caught in my throat as her fingers worked down over the remaining cinched buttons of my shirt. She gave the material a little flutter here and there as she progressed, creating a breeze which cooled my heated, aching skin.

“See?” She murmured, her breath hot on the back of my ear. “Bet that’s feeling better already…”

My eyes eased shut and I bit my lip to keep the moan that lingered in the back of my throat from escaping. It felt _so_ good… the light brush of her fingers as she worked her way down my chest...

“Can’t argue with that…”

She reached the base of my shirt and gave it a tug to work it up out of the sash around my waist. It freed the last button so that she could now unhook it. She gave the shirt a flap around my now bare chest before her arms retracted, reappearing shortly thereafter over my shoulders. She took either half of the shirt in her hands.

“Arms back.” She murmured, clucking her tongue so close to my ear that I feel the little vibration the movement made through her lower lip. “Come on now.”

I complied, sliding my arms back so that Eve could slip the shirt down them. It felt heavenly to have that damp, hot material peeled from my heated flesh and a groan eased out of me. Eve’s actions puzzled me as well, for they were as typically nurturing as always but there was something… changed about her. Perhaps it was the wine, the heat… the words that had passed between us. But her fingers lingered where they might have parted in the past. Her voice was lower… closer to a soft, throaty purr. I heard the muted thump of the material hitting the floor and then her palms were pressed to my back, rubbing up and down against my sweaty flesh.

“How’s that?” She whispered. All I was capable of producing was a weak lilting moan. It had been a long month since I had felt her hands on me like this but it felt like forever. Her fingertips worked their way across my spine; checking my old injuries I supposed.

“They’ve almost completely healed up. Thank God…” She started gently raking her fingernails down my back. I groaned much more loudly now, tilting my head back and arching from side to side. “Still itchy, huh?”

“Never stops being fucking itchy. Had no one to scratch it for me either. Had to just rub myself on a door frame or a building corner…” I growled low in the back of my throat, as Eve scratched vigorously at some of the almost healed scarring. I squirmed a little; feeling a tightness in my groin as my dick hardened.

“You want me to put some of your cream on?” She asked; her fingertips gliding down my spine and then working over towards the long, almost rectangular shaped scar from where a hunk of skin and muscle had been successfully reattached. This was where the worst of the itching resided and I could have collapsed just then to feel her nails work over the burning rigid welts. “Bet you haven’t given the wounds a decent coat since last time you saw me.”

“No… no it’s okay. Just… keep doing what you’re doing.” I sighed as her nails continued to rake the healing flesh. “Feels so damn good.” My eyes teared over before I quite realized what was happening. I was battered and overcome with a sudden, fierce wave of emotion and I could barely keep the proof of it out of my voice. And I realized then, that I no longer wanted to. She was, after all, the one and only person that I could go to pieces around. “God I… just… I miss being _touched_.”

“Oh, _honey…_ ” Eve murmured, her voice thick with tears itself. Weakened all the more for hearing the sadness and emotion encapsulated within my own. I felt the palms of her hands sweep down to cup my sides and her lips pressed to the back of my neck. Her kisses found their way down to the centre of my spine, before wending about to lay their sweet, loving touch to all the myriad places my flesh had been scoured, split and broken. I felt her fingers and palms rub across my sides, around onto my stomach. I could have _wept_ for that touch… I had pined for it for _so long…_

“I was starting to forget how good it felt. Those soft palms of yours…” My head dropped so that my chin almost slammed my chest and it then swayed as though my spine had suddenly snapped. It was too much, coupled with the beer and the heat… to have her hands on me like this. The good Lord above could only expect so much restraint from me before it became something of an obscene expectation. “Since I became a Ghoul… you’re the only one who… who ever touched me this way.” I groaned, the strength returning to my neck as I managed to force my head up straight; my dazed, blurry eyes easing shut as I murmured my soft impassions towards the ceiling. “God it… it makes me _weak…_ ”

Eve sighed softly, her breath hot to my flesh as her kisses followed the nubs of my spine. I felt the press of her cheeks and forehead and it astonished me that she could do something like this; rub her face against me, when so few people could stand the sight of my bare skin, let alone the touch. Not to mention that I was no doubt sweaty and smelly to boot.

“God, I’ve missed you, Hancock…” She whispered, her lips pressing kisses just beneath my shoulder blades now. Her tongue dabbed the indentation beneath the arch of the bone and I squirmed as the hand on my side stroked back over my hip and then caressed inward once more. These actions were slow and deliberate; what had started out as comfort was now evolving into something more.

“Eve…” I murmured, not wanting to ruin the moment but confused as to where this might be heading. Given the… seriousness of our conversation not five or so minutes past, was this not perhaps going just the slightest bit too fast? Not so far as _I_ was concerned but her own reservations had gotten me thinking that this… _this_ shouldn’t have been happening. “What the hell is going on here?”

Her lips left my back and slid in just below the shell of my ear. She needed to tilt her head to get in under my hat but she managed it.

“John, honey… do us both a favor and don’t try and throw a spanner in the works right now, huh?” Her hands slid up further and pressed tight to the middle of my chest; right between my pectoral muscles. I imagined she could feel the rapid expansion of my lungs; trying to process enough oxygen to compensate for my increasing levels of excitement. I groaned to feel her palms here, sliding a little against my wet, slick skin; caressing the burn scar from all those months earlier. “I want to feel you… and I think you need to feel me too, right?”

“Oh God _yes._ ” I moaned.

Eve’s lips lightly pecked my ear. Her voice was soft and husky; a tone I had never heard from her before. “I’m not afraid of your skin, sweetheart. I’m not afraid to touch you.” One of her hands trailed down further, sliding around my navel so that she could caress the lines of both my abdomen and further still into the dip of my loin. I squirmed, another gasp working out of me that was so sharp and unexpected that it hurt a little. “It goes… further than that, in fact.”

The fingers on my chest came up to press to my chin and she gently directed my face around so that she could glimpse my eyes. She looked dreamy and gentle and ever so loving as she gazed at me from over the rise of my shoulder.

“Do you find it so hard to believe that I might actually _want_ you?” She whispered and I saw the slightest hint of what I took to be… timidity in her gaze. As though she were now afraid that I might find cause to reject her… as I had done in the past when we’d been wounded and intoxicated and not nearly so as in love as we were in this moment. “Am I so damaged and off limits that it seems impossible for me to crave and desire sex as much as you do? To _want_ to be intimate with the man that I love?”

I swallowed in a mouth that felt so very clammy; a poor combination of drink and pertinent desire. “I… I’m just a little confused… I thought we had taken that… off the table for tonight?”

Eve’s eyes fluttered down into half-mast, their gaze on my lips as she closed the space between our mouths; a small smile suggesting her amusement at my statement.

“Ah…” She murmured. “And when did I ever go and say such a thing?”

I slammed my brain in to reverse as she kissed me; searching for the moment that Eve had stated implicitly that she wasn’t interested in making love to me here and now. She’d certainly put me off when I’d made jokes about going to the bed but… come to think of it, she’d never come right out and said ‘no.’ And it might very well have never been in her thoughts for us to go so far; not if this moment hadn’t passed between us. Seeing the healing wounds upon my back and hearing my soft moans and adulations for her touch… This may very well have served as the trigger for her to want to be closer to me.

Eve sighed as her lips parted from my own, dropping down to plant kisses to the backs of my shoulder. Her palm had returned to the space between my pectorals and dragged upward now, to rub over where my heart was pounding so hard in my chest, it must have felt to her as though it were kicking out towards her caress.

“Jesus, John…” She murmured, her body pressing tight to my back as she embraced me. “I don’t know if it’s the right or wrong thing to do… I don’t know. I don’t fucking _care_ anymore.” Her palms stroked across my flesh; hard and desperate. I could feel the thump of her own heart against my back; the quivering, shaky flux of her breath. “I just want to touch you. Kiss you, hold you. Feel your skin and heat and heartbeat. Don’t you want that too?”

“Christ love, you _know_ I do.” I breathed, pressing my hand over the palm that she had clutched to my loin. I linked my fingers through hers, further deepening our connection as I pushed her hand tighter to my body and then trailed it up slowly. Along the length of my stomach and further still, to meet the one that held court on the rise of my chest. I moaned the entire while; debilitated by that perfect gliding pressure. The sensuality of that soft skin. Oh, it felt so _good_ … so good with just her hand alone. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would feel to have the entire length of her bare flesh pressed to me. Chest to chest, thigh to thigh, groin to groin…

“Oh _God…_ ” I groaned. _“_ It’s been… _so_ fucking goddamn long since someone’s touched me like this. Not since I was… human.”

She kissed the side of my neck again. “Then let me touch you.” I felt the peck of her lips once more before the sofa cushion suddenly flexed as her weight came up off of it. Her hands left me and I glanced at her curiously as she moved now to stand in front of me. Her lashes sat low over her tawny eyes and her face was flushed with the evidence of her arousal. I gaped at her a little, because I had never seen her this way before. She was always so temperate and dopey and almost as far from outwardly sexual as one could be. It blew me away to see her like this; with such… hunger in her eyes. And all directed towards _me,_ nonetheless.

I had very little time to appreciate it however, as Eve suddenly dropped forward, her palms clasping a firm hold around my upper arms. I felt the strength in her upper torso as she wrenched me about, so that both my legs were forced to twist and come off of the sofa; my boots thumping down onto the floor. I almost wanted to laugh, because the act had lacked some gentility but I lost the breath that would have been required as she shoved me back into the wall of the sofa with enough force to ring my bell. It was bad enough with all the alcohol in my system and the dehydration from the heat but now I was rattled for a whole other reason. My eyes swam for a moment but Eve didn’t give me long to recover before she was once again leaning over me, her own breaths coming hard and fast against my face as she swung a leg over either side of my waist. My own breathing pitched up to match her own and I cupped her hips, murmuring in soft approval as she eased down onto me; her groin pressed tight to the bulge of my erection. She didn’t seem to mind that it was there at all and she actually gave a little wiggle to perch herself more fully atop it.

It was at this point that I finally threw caution out the fucking door entirely. I hadn’t the will to fight any longer and Eve certainly wasn’t worried with trying to defend her own virtue. Besides, like she had previously told MacCready; she was a grown woman who could make her own decisions. We were both as sloshed as the other but our brains were still working just fine. And we loved each other. For fucks sake, if you couldn’t be intimate with the person that you were in love with, there was something terribly wrong with the world.

I appealed to her poor passed over husband in my mind; wondering if anyone who had once known the joy of loving this woman, could ever forgive the man who was now receiving it.

I attempted, nonetheless, to assuage him. _I’m sorry pal,_ I whispered, sending my thoughts out to the void beyond. In the real world, I was moaning as I buried my face into Eve’s shoulder, kissing at the side of her neck and collarbone as her own lips pressed to the side of my neck, my throat and my cheeks. _I held back as long as I could. And so did she. Don’t hate her… We tried. God, how we fucking tried…_

I knew even as I thought it, that it was a lie. Eve might have tried but I had never made any attempt to put off my feelings for her, not for a second. But if anything, I hoped that her old man knew that those feelings were genuine. That my passions were emboldened and enriched further by the intense love I had for his wife. That I had never lied or sought to use her or undermine what her touch, or kiss, or time meant.

“Oh, _Eve…_ ” I sighed, sliding my hands up her back and pressing to her deltoid muscles; feeling the firm flex of them rolling beneath my palms. I tilted my head to bring our lips back together. There was no mucking around this time; no tentativeness, no hesitation or timidity. Or tongues collided so violently together I wondered if we had in fact managed to bruise them. Eve eventually forced both of them back inside of my own mouth, sucking and caressing with her lips and lightly grazing with her teeth. We swallowed one others gasps and soft, aching moans; huffing desperate breaths back and forth.

At some point, Eve reached up and plucked my hat off of my head; which made me chuckle into our kiss because I knew that she was getting sick of it bumping her in the forehead. She dropped it to the sofa beside us before wrapping both arms tight around my neck and pressing down as tight to me as I’m sure was possible. I could feel her weight forcing me deeper into the sofa and I was amused by how dominant she was being in this situation. It was rather unfamiliar territory for me, I must admit but I can’t say I at all minded. Her determination and passion were a massive turn on.

Her hands eventually slid around to caress the sides of my face, neck and jaw. I in turn decided to bite the bullet and get my hands where I’d been wanting them for a while now and I reached down, curling my fingers around each pert cheek of her ass.

I had touched her on the backside plenty of times since I had come to know her, but never before had I grabbed her so directly. But it had certainly been worth the wait. Whilst she might have been muscular in parts of her upper body, she was soft and round below the waist. And the natural sway of her back contributed further in giving her ass a handsome shape; rounded and perky and awesome in just about… anything that she wore. Whatever Eve thought about her appearance, she honestly had the best ass I’d ever seen on a woman. Hard to believe she never noticed guys always checking it out wherever we went. Maybe it’s just one of those things other fellas notice because our eyes are all staring at the same thing, I don’t know…

I moaned softly, squeezing and rubbing as hard as I’d always dreamt of doing; enjoying the soft malleable feel of the flesh. Because I was a bit geezied up, I gave her a good slap to the left cheek; wanting to feel it jiggle a little beneath the blow. I was rewarded for my efforts and it just made me groan all the more, my erection pressing up so tight into Eve I thought it must have been making her uncomfortable. I had a passing flush of guilt, for having indulged myself the way I had and was wondering whether Eve would resent me for it when I heard her give out a deep, throaty moan in direct response to my spank. Hmm… perhaps she wasn’t quite so vanilla after all.

Her lips slipped away from mine as she sat up a little, tilting her head back and trailing both hands down onto my chest; caressing my pectorals. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled, giving me what I took to be a very receptive look. She tilted her head gently to the side.

“Kiss my neck?”

I examined the visible part of her neck, which most definitely would have been lovely to kiss but I would have much preferred to labour over the sweet little nook where her neck met her shoulder. Not to mention that I was just about well shot of her stupid fucking flannel passion killer getting in the way. I fluttered my fingers down over the firm line of her jaw.

“Your… flannel is kind of in the way.” I murmured, giving her ass a firm caress with the hand that remained clutched about it. She arched a little; enjoying the touch from the looks of it. “Aren’t you burning up in that thing?”

“Oh God yes.” She all but growled and my heart skipped a beat. I tried to keep it cool as I smiled at her but my mouth immediately flooded with saliva at the expectation of being able to get some of her clothes off of her at last.

“Let’s get it out of the way then, huh?” I whispered, taking my hand off of her ass and reaching instead for the knot in her flannel. I glanced up at her, checking for confirmation and felt another wave of excitement burst through me as she nodded, her face flushing as she did. It took me both hands to undo the knot, given how sweaty my skin had become but I managed to quickly untangle the tails of the shirt from each other.

I paused so as to fully savour the moment. In the year that Eve and I had travelled together, I had never seen her naked breasts. Not even a glimpse of them through a top, or an accidental slip. Not even with… all the terrible things that had happened in the _Rolling Ranch._ (Not that I would have _wanted_ to have seen them under such circumstances.) Eve had always been so modest and sensible about how she dressed herself. Not prudish but she certainly never went braless or wore tops that were too low in the front so as to risk exposing herself unnecessarily. It made the little glimpses I had gotten here and there all the more delicious. And now here I was, about to… well, to get at least _more_ of a glimpse than before.

I was actually trembling with the excitement of it. I felt like a teenager all over again; getting my very first look in the back of the old bus on top of the School house. I swallowed back some of that excess of saliva that was damn near choking me and took a hold of the collar of Eve’s shirt, the way that she had done mine earlier.

“Arms… back.” I said, hearing my voice choke up a little and pausing to clear my throat. It made Eve chuckle a bit but she was obedient, pushing her arms back and up to the result that her breasts were pushed tight to the wall of the singlet top she wore beneath the flannel. As I slid the shirt down her arms, I could plainly see the shadow of her nipples and areola’s though the thin barrier of material. Eve would have been very aware of this, no doubt having fastened the shirt around herself in the first instance to keep herself modest. It excited me all the more to realize that she was permitting me to see her in this vulnerable state. Her breasts looked large and heavier for not being supported by a bra as they usually were. Saliva rushed into my mouth again and gathered staunchly beneath my tongue. I felt the overwhelming urge to yank the top of her singlet down so that her breasts popped out and I could fasten onto them with my lips, but I forced myself to be patient and exercise restraint. Maybe I could be rough like that later on; after we had been together for some time but not right now, not when she was still just getting back into the swing of being with a chap again.

So instead, I took full advantage of the view, admiring the natural shape and slope of her breasts as I tossed the flannel aside. The areola’s looked wider than I had ever imagined but in no way unappealing. Her nipples weren’t stiff but that was natural, given the heat and lack of direct stimulation.

When my hands were free, I clutched both to the small of Eve’s back and reached up to press my lips to her neck as requested; sucking and kissing gently. Eve gave a soft little chuckle amidst the delicate moans she had been making from the very first brush of my mouth to her skin.

“Sure gave _you_ an eyeful, huh?”

I chuckled myself, knowing precisely what she was getting at but playing dumb. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do.” She said impatiently, letting out another little moan as I lapped my tongue against her pulse point before sucking on it. “Tops practically fucking see through. I might as well have dunked it in water.”

I smirked, lowering one hand to caress the curve of her ass as my lips trailed across her throat. “It might be a little on the shear side, perhaps…” It was a generous description for something that was about as opaque as tissue paper and we were both aware of it. I was also very aware that her breasts were situated almost directly below my chin and it made it very difficult to try and think of anything clever to say. I kissed her jugular and then lowered my lips to the hollow of her throat, moaning softly as my hands tightened against her. I was shuddering from the effort of holding back. “Christ… you taste so damn _good_ …”

Eve sighed a little at my words and then let out a whole other sort of groan; one of exasperation. “Oh God… what am I doing?” She wondered and I saw her pass one of her hands over her forehead and then down onto her cheek. “I mean… you and I were friends and I’m not two minutes back in town before I’m throwing my leg over you.” Her concerns progressed into another gently aroused moan as I cupped my lips around her chin; kissing and licking the deep scar that was there, such as I had wanted to do earlier in the square. Both her arms slid tight about the back of my neck, her face pressing against my temple as she held me to a tight, conflicted embrace. “I’ve got so much washing to do…”

“It’ll keep, love…” I murmured, kissing her jawline and then nuzzling my lips under her ear. My hands stroked and panned the length of her back, as tender as I could possibly be in the face of all the desire that was boiling over inside of me. “Tell ya what; I’ll buy you all new clothes, you can just throw the dirty ones out. Everyone’s a winner. Except for Codsworth, he might be sad he never got a run at all those skidmarks but ah well…”

Eve gave a guilty little laugh, her head tilting back and her hand coming up to cover her eyes as she groaned and swayed. I think the wine must have been getting to her a bit, because she looked a little dizzy. I think she also might have been feeling guilty about not tending to her responsibilities but was even more reluctant to put the brakes on.

“And I need to take a shower… I stink. Haven’t had a proper one in… like… two days.”

“Nah honey. You smell great.” I said, lifting up one of her arms and all but my burying my nasal cavity in the pit. Lucky for me, I think she might have sprayed with deodorant when she went downstairs to freshen up but I thought I’d tease her all the same. “Mmm, mmm, mmm… just like a musky old Molerat. Yum-yum.”

Eve burst out laughing, covering her mouth as I continued to nuzzle at her neck; undeterred by her apparently poor hygiene. “John, you smelt my _feet_. If you think _that’s_ bad imagine what my sweaty old cooch smells like.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. Just when I thought the girl was a class act, she had to go and say something like _that._ “I’m sure given your apparent lack of body grooming, you’d have more than enough hair to clog up my nose when I burrow on down there.”

She lost it entirely at this, snorting with laughter as she damn near rolled off of my lap. I managed to grab her at the last second and keep her firmly affixed to where I had been most enjoying the feel of her. Tears squeezed out of her eyes as she waved both hands, only making herself laugh all the more as she tried to breathe in at the same time she laughed and produced even more snorting sounds for her efforts. Which set me off a little but I took better strains in keeping control of myself, because I didn’t want to abolish the passion we had been thick in the midst of earlier.

“Oh my god…” Eve finally managed, giving me a hard swat to the back of the head. “You and the horse you rode in on, buddy.” She chuckled gently, sighing to herself in that sort of post-laughter pleasure as she caressed both hands across the back of my head, before pressing her cheek to the crown. “You’re just jealous of my beautiful bushiness because you’re a bald old man…”

I couldn’t resist laughing at this description and pressed my fingers over my lips, glancing off to the side as I chuckled. It took me a moment to get myself under control now, though I didn’t carry on and bust a gut the way that Eve had.

“Tends to happen to most Ghouls, Munch.” I said, once I was certain I was through snickering. “And despite the fact that I’m a politician, I just didn’t think a toupee was really my style, you know?”

I wanted to bring us back to the place we had been enjoying before, so I slid my hand across her upper back; feeling the sweat that had gathered there. I gave her ass another squeeze before trailing my hand around and dragging my fingernails down the top of her thigh. She groaned as my lips returned to kiss and lick at the column of her throat.

“I just… I feel like such a little slut.” She murmured, her hands rolling atop my shoulders. “We should be… I don’t know…”

I curled my hand around to caress the side of her face. “Ain’t no such thing as a slut, Munch. Only a woman taking charge of her own pleasure.” I smiled as I leaned up to kiss her lips again. There wasn’t a hint of her lipstick still remaining and I had to wonder just how many places on my body it was now affixed to. “There ain’t no shame in that. Your body’s just tellin’ ya what it’s been craving.”

Eve sighed softly, caressing the back of my head as she urged me forward so that my face pressed back to the smooth line of her neck.

“I’ve just… I’ve missed this so much. And I’ve missed _you._ ” She lowered her own face, kissing my forehead and then my temple before dropping her nose down close to my neck. She took a deep breath in and her sigh deepened. “It doesn’t help you’re wearing this cologne, you sneaky bastard. God you smell nice…”

I wanted to take things further, so I took another chance by sliding my hand up the back of her singlet top, feeling at long last the smooth, unbroken line of her spine. I caressed her balmy skin, rotating my palm in a circle.

“I’ve thought about you every single day we’ve been apart, darlin’. I’ve dreamed about putting my hands on you like this… kissing you…” I lowered my lips and kissed the wall of her chest. “… kissing every-” my lips traversed further, kissing the curve of her left breast and then the right. “… bare _inch_ of you.”

It was a hell of a risk but it had paid off and Eve’s only response was to tilt her head back, murmuring quietly as I kissed the indentation that peaked between each of her tits. She cupped my face, dropping her own lips down so that she could kiss me long and hard and then further still, to sup and lick the curves of my neck. I moaned, tilting my own head back as she slipped and shuffled down, sliding one of her legs from around my waist and balancing her weight so that she could bring the other one into alignment. Then she dropped down between my knees so that she was kneeling on the floor.

I sat rigid, wondering just how far she was going with this and whether I would, or could allow it to traverse to that point. I tried not to let my anxieties get in the way of everything else that was going on because her lips were now in places where for so long I could have only dreamt of feeling a woman’s _hand._ Her tongue graced the lines and peaks of my pectorals, her palms sliding across the slippery walls of my flesh as she kissed me down. She took her time, murmuring softly as though she loved every second of what she was doing. Placing her lips to my… ugly, scarred flesh. I can’t imagine how much the wine had to be affecting her for this to be in any way appealing to the poor girl but I was honestly grateful for her strength and love towards me.

I couldn’t recall a time in recent years when I had ever felt so good. So… attended to and flush with the reciprocation of pleasure that was solely my responsibility for bestowing upon my partner. A lot of it had been my own trepidations of course but it was nearly impossible to trust anyone with their attentions to a body as ruined as my own, without constantly fearing that they might have been fighting back their disgust or simply counting down the seconds until it was over.

I could only trust in someone who actually professed to loving me. Because only someone who loved a Ghoul could kiss them this way. Could caress them, lick and suck their flush and smile whilst doing it. With only thoughts of love in their mind. I trusted Eve, which was why I allowed her to continue as she was for the time being. And because it simply felt so absolutely, bloody amazing, I wasn’t sure if I _could_ muster the will to hit the brakes; even if I felt I ought to have done.

My body pulsed and throbbed, as Eve’s palms slid down over my loins and branched out to press to my inside thighs. Her lips gently pecked over the curves of my abdomen and then she traced the lines of my loin gently with her tongue. I felt the squeeze of her palms and fingers. Her neck was all but pressed to my god damned _erection_ and I once again wondered at her intentions.

One of her hands came up to rub against my stomach; a strangely tender gesture, given how she was now crouched between my thighs and kissing every spare inch of bare flesh she could lay her lips to.

“You’ve lost weight.” She murmured softly.

I sighed and gave my eyes a little backward roll. Sure. _That’s_ what she notices. Never mind how much weight I’ve suddenly gained in the vicinity of my groin, which as we speak, is digging right up into her fucking _jugular._

“No one here is nearly half as good a cook as you, Munch.”

She smiled up at me, the expression not at all looking innocent as she kissed the indentation of my navel. “I’m sure I can fatten you up again.”

I gave a shrug, unable to resist. “You’re doing a fair to decent job already.”

Eve pulled a face to show exactly what she thought of the lewd allusion before pressing her hands down tight to my thighs and using the leverage to help ease herself back up so that she could climb onto my lap again. I was disappointed for about two seconds and then I was feeling the hard press of her groin against the bulge of my cock. She sure as hell felt it herself, because she shut her eyes and gave a lilting, sexy moan as she rotated her hips forward and back; rubbing against me.

I groaned myself, head lolling on my neck at the feeling of being indirectly rubbed through my pants. “Shit…” I moaned, clutching her hips tight between both hands and lifting my pelvis to push back against her, increasing the friction. I shut my eyes as well, aching with the knowledge that the noises she was making was because she was rubbing her sweet spot against me. We were both now, in this moment, taking pleasure from each other. And that was a fucking fine thought. “Fuck that feels _so good_ …”

I felt Eve’s hand close around my right palm and she slid it up, off of my waist until it rested directly atop her ribcage. I could feel the resonating thud of her heart from beneath and I opened my eyes so that I could look up at her. She was giving me a very intense look but there was something awfully sweet and vulnerable in the way that she was biting her lip. Even with her blonde hair damp and clinging to the sides of her face in such a sexy, provocative way; her flush spreading down under her chin and onto the smooth, recently kissed column of her throat.

Her fingers squeezed me again and her teeth released her lip; so that the lovely plush pillar flexed out and grew plump again.

“Touch me, John.”

I continued to stare into her eyes, evaluating her countenance. Of course I knew where she wanted me to touch her; after all, it wasn’t like I hadn’t already been touching her elsewhere. But she looked so… divided about her request, I wasn’t certain whether to just go ahead and do it. Eve however was kind enough to take the guesswork out of it; guiding my hand up and onto her breast. She cupped her own palm firmly to the back of it, holding me in place and looking me deep in the eyes with such yearning I knew fully well what she was about. And what she desired.

I squeezed her gently, holding back on the mauling that I might have otherwise given her if I wasn’t making every effort to be tender. She moaned softly, a good sign and I raised my head to kiss her. The cavern of her mouth was hot and wet and her breast felt so soft in my palm. I continued to rub and caress her lightly, prompting her to finally remove her hand when she figured I no longer required any further encouragement. I flexed my thumb and brushed it firmly across where I knew the nipple to be, until I could feel it peaking keen and turgid beneath the thin material of her top.

I growled softly in the back of my throat, my dick stretching and hardening even more until I was fucking _aching_ with the need to unbridle my desires. I pushed at her breast, lifting it so it sat high and plump on her chest, before allowing it drop a little so I could feel the weight of it. Breaking the kiss, I leaned back so that I could watch what I was doing, wetting my lips as I continued to stroke at her nipple with my thumb. I gazed at the hard little bud, raised and pressed tight to the wall of her shirt.

I leaned in, hoping Eve could beg my indulgence but I didn’t have it fucking in me to hold myself back any more. I pressed my face to her breast, feeling the soft push of it against my cheeks.

“Oh God…” I moaned, gently plucking at her nipple through her top before using my thumb to twirl it in a circle. I lowered my mouth and ran my lips across it, just allowing the bud to pass through the slight gap between. “ _Mmhmm…_ ”

If Eve didn’t much like what I was doing, she was doing a fair to decent job of pretending otherwise. For she had been moaning the whole while I’d been touching her, caressing the back of my head as she pushed me tighter to her. She reached down now, taking the wrist of my other hand from her waist and giving it a hard squeeze.

“The other one…” Her voice came from somewhere up above; breathy and heated. “Puh-please…”

I wasted no time in bringing my remaining hand up onto her left breast, treating it to the same attention as the first. I marvelled at how that soft nipple came to life and thrust against the fabric; responding eagerly to the coaxing from my fingers. I drifted my mouth over to rub against this one too, groaning softly with pleasure as Eve leaned back; allowing me to gaze into her half lidded eyes. I pushed her breasts up and together, bringing the round full mounds of them to meet at the apex of her top before ducking my face down to press to her cleavage. I kissed the summit of each breast, tenderly, caressing them with my face. They were warm and soft.

“So goddamn beautiful…” I breathed as Eve sighed and puffed; her chin resting firm against the crown of my head. Her hands darted down and grabbed the hem of her singlet top.

“God… it’s way too hot… let alone with _this_ thing in the way…”

My heart started thumping so wildly I feared for all the arteries that were attached to it; for the amount of blood that was now pumping about my body seemed an insane amount of work for one organ. I clasped Eve’s singlet where her own hands had left spaces, reaching up to press a kiss to her mouth; thinking how beautiful she looked in that moment. Flush and sweaty and about to reveal herself to me for the first time. It seemed such a blessing and one that I knew I honestly didn’t deserve.

“Yes… let me see you.” I breathed and helped her to peel the damp, clinging top up and away from her stomach. I left her to the remainder of the task, dropping my hands down to clutch to either side of her. I leaned in, kissing the bare flesh; tonguing her bellybutton, the soft roll of her stomach and kissing the marks that were made from where the flesh had been stretched in her pregnancy. Her skin was the same color as a sweet, sweet spread my mother had once acquired called honey. But from Eve’s flesh I tasted the sweat of the hot day; salty and yet somehow as satisfying as the velvety delicious substance had been.

I kissed her up, following the line of her top as it peeled away, revealing each delicious patch of skin for me to sup upon; my heart hammering all the more intensely as the material took on an entirely new shape. Curving about the shape of her clothed breasts, the tight fabric caught and tugged them upwards; pulling the flesh of the lower curves taut. I swept my hands up along the line of her torso and positioned them directly against this flexing lines of skin. It took a moment longer but Eve finally managed to free her breasts, causing them to drop from the cacoon of the shirt and slap down directly into my waiting palms, just as I had anticipated. They felt full and heavy and my heart stopped hammering and skipped over the next few beats, only to start thundering madly as though to make up for lost time. Eve in the meanwhile pulled her shirt up completely over her head and tossed it aside, giving her hair a ruffle and sighing with satisfaction to get the clammy material away from her skin.

“Oh _god_ that feels better…” She groaned, swishing her head about lightly; perhaps to free the sticky tendrils of hair which were clinging to the sides of her face.

I didn’t answer, mainly because I wasn’t sure I could trust myself to speak without stuttering like an inexperienced idiot. I was much too enamoured with the sight of her breasts, cupped so tenderly in my hands. I admired them, with the veneration that folks in the olden days might have shown some exquisite piece of art; loomed on a wall in some musty theatre and signed by some pretentious, overbearing dickhead. Only to me, nothing could rival a work of art as exquisite as what was now laid out before me.

They were tanned, though not so dark as the rest of her body; which had been exposed to the sun during her travels. I was a little surprised to find that her nipples were in fact dark. Being only a quarter Native-American and three quarters Caucasian, I had sort of expected that her nipples would be pink but… there you go. Must have been one of the few aspects she inherited for whatever reason.

Her breasts didn’t sit high on her chest and they weren’t round like I had fantasized but heavier and shaped far more like tear drops. I lifted them slightly, raising them to where they might have once perched when she had been younger and her tits smaller. I then followed the pull of gravity back down to where they desired to rest comfortably.

It’s not at all like I had imagined but somehow… infinitely better. They were shaped more beautifully, far more… real, than what my fantasies had concocted. These were the breasts of a strong woman; one who had scoured the Commonwealth with me, fought every abomination with and who held me so lovingly all those nights the traumas re-visited us. Not only that, but they were breasts that had nourished and provided life to a child; a child that I planned to one day raise as my own. The reality of this woman’s body; older, test driven and still so undeniably beautiful, rocked me.

I continued to examine Eve’s breasts; much to her obvious amusement. I cupped them, lifted and gently squeezed them, exploring every inch of their surface with my eyes. I shook my head, marvelling.

“God…” I mused. “They’re even prettier than I imagined.”

Eve chuckled a little, embarrassed by my attentions but ostensibly flattered at the same time. “What, you kidding? These droopy old gals?”

“Oh, get off of it.” I grumbled, refusing to play into that game again. Instead, I slid one hand around her back, squeezing my palm tight to her deltoid and then clutching her thigh tightly with the other. I sat up as much as I was able, pulling her in tight against me so and squirming about a bit so that our chests could mash together. The touch I had been wanting to feel _most._ We both sighed and groaned in unison as we rubbed and writhed against each other; our skin slippery with sweat from the intense heat inside the room. My flesh was already sensitive as a result of my Ghoulification, which only made the sensation more intense. I wondered how long it had been since I had pressed my bare chest against a woman’s. The feel of her soft, full breasts pushing against my pectorals… how her nipples would on occasion snag and catch to the scars in my skin; a stimulation that made her gasp and arch every time. Her palms roamed down along my back, dragging her nails up on either side of my spine, which made me flex and thrust against her in turn.

“God _damn_ that feels awesome, baby.” I moaned, lifting my head to kiss her gently on the lips, before pressing my face down against her breasts. I kissed each one and then turned to push my mouth to that sensual dip of her shoulder; giving myself a moment to take a breather and gather my muddled, foggy thoughts together. I chuckled to myself, eyes shut as I pressed my forehead to her. I felt… displaced. “I still can’t get my head around that this is actually happening…”

Eve gave a soft little laugh as well, her fingers gently stroking the side of my face. I glanced up, watching as she dragged her sweaty bangs away from her forehead. She looked incredible. And incredibly _real._

“I know, right?” She said, her shoulder pressing to the curve of my mouth as she gave a little shrug. “How the fuck did we manage for so long out there?”

“Guess we’re making up for lost time now.” I said, smiling as I eased back from her. I placed one of my palms on her upper chest and the other just beneath her right breast. I pressed against her gently, encouraging her to sit up straight so that I could look at and admire her properly. I lay my eyes to every inch of her that my sight could attain; focusing on scars, freckles, still healing bruises and the dimples in her stomach. I found the curve of her waist and the way it flared out into her wide hips and full backside to be extremely erotic.

Eve tilted her head back, allowing her arms to hang at her sides so that her upper torso was sort of… balanced and supported by my hands. It was a significant level of trust and one that I loved her all the more for being able to place in me. Her spine was curved inward; pronouncing and lifting her breasts in the same gesture. I murmured in the back of my throat, thinking I hadn’t seen anything so mouth-watering in all my life. I wanted to weep for the me in the past, who had pined and ached for her, for _this_ moment.

“God _damn_ you are something to look at… _Shit._ ” I eased my elbows in towards my chest, lowering her back to where I could lavish the side of her neck with my kisses once more. I slid my hands onto her breasts and gave them both a firm squeeze now; rubbing and twirling my thumbs over the nipples and flicking them up and down. Because of the heat, her tits felt as though they’d been rubbed in oil and they were very slick and wet beneath my palms. Eve squirmed on my lap and gasped; taking my wrists between her hands and just sort of holding onto me whilst I massaged her.

“Feels so good, darling…” She sighed and I tucked my lips in to my mouth so I could wet them. I stared at those beautiful, shiny flexing mounds; her tawny, wet skin sliding over her muscles. The curls of blonde hair clinging in ringlets around her face.

“I can make it sweeter…” I whispered softly and wondered whether this might be where she drew the line. But when her eyes came down to meet mine again, their entreaty was only too clear. I knew what it was that she desired, before her lips bent close to my ear and breathed so beautiful and sultry, the words I so wanted to hear.

“Then do it, John.”

I groaned in the back of my throat as I dropped my hands away from the soft fullness of her breasts and threaded them under her arms instead. I grasped her deltoid muscles; held her steady and her spine straight so that her tits remained as pert as possible. A good swathe of saliva had gathered behind my bottom row of teeth and I sucked it back over my tongue and down my throat, not wanting to leave a horrible sticky mess all over her.

I surprised myself with the softness of my approach, however. I was so turned on at this point that I was near fucking frothing with lust and uncertain that I would be able to hold myself back from perhaps being a little rough. The sight of Eve’s nipples alone; springy and turgid on the slopes of those gorgeous tits of hers made me ache so badly I felt like I was going to burst at any moment. I wanted to just wrench her towards me and suck as much of her breast into my mouth as I was able; lick and pull and gnaw at each one until she quaked and thrashed beneath me.

The strong physical desire was however overruled by something even more powerful; my deep loving affection for her. It kept a lot of these rampant designs at bay, by softening the edges of my lust to allow for me to remain relatively gentle in my attentions. So instead of mauling at her like a rabid molerat, I moved in slowly; looking her breast over with the attention to detail an artist might bestow upon his standing model.

I could only recall being with one girl whose breasts had been larger than Eve’s (this was of course, Magnolia) and it hadn’t been a greatly substantial difference. It _was_ considered to be relatively unusual however, given how malnourished most girls are in this time. I can only suppose that women from two-hundred years ago were better fed and were genetically predisposed to retaining weight and muscle and a certain… healthier frame.

Eve had always been bemused by the neighborhood boys attention to both hers and Piper’s breasts. She had simply supposed that it was just boys being boys. What she didn’t quite understand however, is how rare it is to see tits that were as full as what these ladies were boasting. They looked so comforting and soft. And they were, as I myself was now privileged enough to experience for myself.

The areolas were wide and dappled with little bumps and ridges from where I had earlier stimulated the nipple. She had a small freckle underneath the right one. Without giving it too much thought, I leant in and kissed it. Her skin felt tight and springy, flexing out again the moment I took my mouth away. I slid my tongue gently into the crevice formed from where the breast met the rise of her chest and slowly skimmed it along. Sweat had gathered here; a combination of the balmy temperature and the torrid heat accumulating between our bodies. It tasted of salt and tang and I groaned softly to myself; flush with the knowledge that I was supping a part of her into myself. I lathered my tongue over the underside of the breast; that beautiful sexy arch that lifted and curved upward toward the nipple. Eve made a soft little ‘Ahhh’ noise and when I swept my eyes upward to look at her, she was staring back at me in turn. Her eyes enquired something of me; her stained lips parted and white teeth peeking through as she took in short sharp little breaths.

She was with me in this moment. Not afraid, not simply tolerating my desires at the expense of her own. I had known her long enough and intimately enough to understand her true nature. Though I had never seen her before in a state such as this, I knew that she was not the kind of woman who was particularly good at faking anything. That sort of ability took a certain degree of cunning that Eve, clever as she was, just didn’t possess. She was completely earnest, wearing her emotions proudly laminated on her sleeve for all the world to see.

She was enjoying what was happening between us. Her face didn’t possess any discernible guilt so far as I could tell and she certainly didn’t look disgusted. Her eyes met my own with a pleading hunger; beseeching a touch that ran deeper, a kiss that stirred greater spikes of pleasure.

I brought my arm from around her back and reached up to brush my fingers over her cheek. I cupped it and she turned her lips into the palm and kissed me; nuzzling and leaning into my touch. My heart, already racing from unreserved arousal, throbbed now with more pronounced feelings of love and tenderness than I had ever thought myself possible of possessing.

“Oh darlin'…” I whispered, pulling her to me with the hand on her cheek and kissing her flushed lips. I didn’t think I could be so gentle; not when I was as turned on as I was. There was a complimentary nature that existed between these two states which didn’t always quite balance out but made each in turn stronger at times, whilst weaker in others. I combed her hair, traced the lines of her face where so many of her bones were broken. Took her hand in my own and gently rubbed her fingers; caressed the knuckles which had once been stomped and splintered and wrenched from the joints. My eyes welled at the memory; of this beautiful body laying broken on the floor between my feet. Those shattered fingers wrapped around my ankles, trying to comfort herself in her dreadful pain with the only touch from me that was possible at that time. I had nerve damage in my own fingers, from where I had tried to force my hands from the binds that had held me. My wrists had bled a lot. I’d nearly split the tendons wide open…

“I’ll never let anyone hurt ya… not _ever_ again…” I promised, lifting her hand to my mouth so that I could kiss each finger, her palm and her wrist. I kissed her chin, her first injury in this new world and one that would never heal. I kissed the curve of her shoulder, where it had been forcibly dislocated and cruelly rotated in the socket until she had been reduced to blubbering, hysterical screams. I stroked the side of her breast, which had been grabbed and mauled by so many bastards who thought they had a right to lay their hands upon her. I trailed my mouth down from her shoulder, following the sensual curve and slope to the tip of her copper colored nipple. I brushed it once gently with my thumb, my heart thumping desirously in my chest. I wanted to kiss away the last traces of those thugs who had thought to put their disgusting hands and mouth to her in the past; let her feel instead the soft and adoring caress of a man who _did_ actually love her. Who wanted her to experience pleasure in his touch, rather than simply take what he wished for his own desires.

And so I did.

I kept my lips together, simply bestowing a few soft little pecks to the already hard and pert bud. I wanted to lick her so badly; see what she tasted like but I forced myself to be patient and be tender with her. Eve had lost her husband only a year ago and I didn’t want her first consensual experience with another man to be a tacky, insensitive grope fest. I wanted to help her feel good and pleasured and most importantly, safe. Guilt free and respected for her decision to permit me these liberties with her body.

I moved my lips over to the left nipple and kissed this as well; cherishing it with the same love and attention I had shown to her lips. They were another beautiful and beloved part of her and I adored it. Eve was sighing in that temperate soft way; so feminine and ladylike. Since the moment we had started fooling around, she hadn’t once degenerated into the ridiculous huffing and puffing nonsense that a lot of girls, I believe, feel that they need to put on to please a guy. A theatrical performance that they seem to think is expected of them.

Eve’s sounds were far more genuine and fucking sexy as hell on account of it. Soft little moans and whimpers, satisfied sighs and growls that eased from the nadir of her throat and clutched the lashes of her eyes together.

She was so classy. And not holding back in the least but simply enjoying her pleasure in the same way that some people enjoyed a good massage. Except with a little pitch here and there that made you realize that she might be receiving a tickle to a place that is not normally stimulated during a massage.

Her fingers rubbed the back of my head. She pushed at me a little; urging me on to do more. It was all the encouragement I needed and with my own little sigh of satisfaction, I parted my lips and kissed her again. Deeper now and sliding my tongue against her as I had done with her lips only earlier. My mouth felt much wetter than I would have liked because I was salivating in my desire to sup on her. But I don’t think Eve either minded or noticed. The moan she emitted when my tongue flicked across her nipple was the loudest I had heard yet. Accompanied by the smallest little ‘Oh, _yes’_ and _‘Ah…’_ and _‘John…_ ’

I doubted my cock could’ve gotten any more engorged than it was already but I swear it grew about another good inch at her words alone. Never mind the fact that I was tonguing at her breast. I took a moment to really let that sink in and I felt like my nerve ends were about to explode from the excited little pulse that went through my body. God, after all this time and here I was now, twirling that sweet little bud over and under; rubbing it with the underside of my tongue and then holding it very gently between my lips. I drew air tightly back into my mouth, creating some suction around the nipple and compacting it between the pillars of my lips. She squirmed a little, groaning and then letting out a soft gasp as I flicked the tip of my tongue over the bud; taking advantage of the suction I was placing against the sensitive skin.

I sank both hands into her back, clasping her firmly with my fingers and pressing her tighter to my face. I took more of her breast into my mouth, dropping my bottom jaw but keeping my teeth securely covered by my tongue. I sucked at her a little harder, felt the flesh of her areola distend against my tongue as I continued to swirl it about the nipple.

“Oh, God… _John…_ ” Eve moaned quietly, releasing my head with her arms and instead grasping the back of the sofa firmly in both hands. She went with the push of my own palms on her back, tugging herself in towards the sofa so that I was fairly much crushed between her body and the cushions. I felt like my jaw was just about to unhinge for how much of her breast was now being pushed into my mouth. I took a hold of her shoulders and used them to ease her back slightly, just enough so that I wasn’t driving my teeth up into her flesh. With the pressure alleviated, I was able to return to kissing and licking at her gently. I coupled this with a firm massage to her back from my fingertips; caressing her spine and the curve of her lower back, where she had a lot of complaints similar to my own sciatic nerve problems.

Eve sighed, tilting her head this way and that with her eyes shut. They opened suddenly, though only part way and she glanced down, focusing on where my mouth was currently pressed tight about her breast. I loved the fact that she was watching herself be pleasured, so I decided to give her a bit more of a show and slowly eased my mouth away from her breast, using my lips to pinch about her nipple and pull at it. I knew from personal experience that this always stimulated the nerve endings a lot better than if a guy used his teeth. Some women’s nipples were extremely sensitive and it’s only a certain type of person who likes to be bitten. It wasn’t simply safe to assume that all women liked their breasts to be gnawed upon, so it was a much better bet to use the lips to apply pressure.

Eve groaned, squirming her groin against my erection as I released her nipple, allowing it to spring back into place. I kept eye contact with her as I leaned in once more, dropped my tongue down over my bottom lip and then delicately licked the pert bud; twirling the tip around before lapping slowly at it. I dragged the near full length of my tongue along her, felt the push of the nipple towards the centre. Eve’s breathing was coming at a much faster rate now and her bottom lip was pinched between her teeth. She turned her eyes away and I thought for one horrible moment that she had started to feel overwhelmed with guilt with what she was doing. But then, I felt her hand move from the sofa and clutch the back of my neck again. She rubbed and stroked me; encouraging still and her head tilted back so that her gaze could now be cast towards the ceiling. I think she had forced herself to look away because the sight had simply become too much for her.

“Fuck…” She murmured, her fingers massaging the indentation where my skull met my spine. “And here I thought your kissing was good. God damn…” She chuckled a little, amused at herself as she pressed the side of her face into the crown of my head. Her arm looped around me, keeping my mouth pressed tight to her in the midst of the embrace. “Now I see why all those girls kept chasing after you for sex, darl. You are _damn good_ with that mouth…”

I chuckled myself as I left a parting kiss to her right breast before trailing my attentions over to the so far neglected left. “You know what they say about politicians and their oratory capabilities, love.” I smiled as I kissed every inch of the left breast, ignoring the nipple for the moment. I sighed a little as I felt Eve’s hand slide down off of my neck and onto my chest. She kissed the top of my head as she stroked her thumb over my own nipple; which made me squirm a little. I know a lot of guys aren’t into having their nipples stimulated but I’m happy to say that I’m not one of them. Hey, if God decided to tack them on, might as well find some use for them.

I made an ‘O’ shape with my lips and leaned in, placing it around Eve’s breast, stemming my tongue out to lap and flick. Her hand on my chest was travelling lower, sliding around the scars in my flesh with the aid of all the sweat that had built up between us. God, I’d be smelling like cured shit later with all that moisture accumulating in the crevices of my flesh. I’d need to hop into a cool shower and soap myself down before it all dried up.

Thinking this far into the future made me wonder just how far this could end up going. Perhaps to the point where Eve might have been joining me _in_ that shower, so that we could clean each other up. My heart hammered faster than ever, to think of the two of us together in the cool water, naked and stroking and washing away the results of what might potentially have been _hours_ of passion.

Jesus… to think that I had only earlier this day been attempting to console myself into accepting that Eve wasn’t likely to _ever_ want to be with me. And now here we were; shirtless and kissing and seducing each other. It all seemed to be happening very fast, even though I knew full well that these tensions between us had been a long time coming. I’d spent so long wanting to make love with her that it was hard to convince myself that it might actually possibly happen; even with my tongue swirling around her tit like it was.

The thundering staccato that my heart had maintained since the moment we had come together came to a sudden screeching halt as I felt Eve’s fingers alight on the edge of my sash. My lungs followed suit and hitched up, the suction in my mouth evaporating so that my lips and tongue simply rested against her breast without moving. I could feel the lids of my eyes spreading apart, my brain continuing to race in place of every other major organ in my body, which had all but failed at the unexpected touch of her hand.

Surely she wasn’t… I mean, it would have been nice to think so but…

I rolled my eyes up in my skull but I wasn’t able to see her face of course; not with it pressed to the top of my head the way it was. But I think she knew what I might have been doing, because she eased back now; shuffling her knees into the couch so that her pelvis was no longer pressed to my own. It was a strange feeling of loss, having that pressure which had until now been resting against my cock, alleviated. Her breast came free from the pull of my mouth; the nipple shining from my attentions and the skin rosy in patches from where I had been pulling against her.

Eve looked into my eyes, tilted her head and smiled at me with her naturally curved little lips. She looked incredible sitting there like that; bare breasted and content, naked all the way down to her tight jeans and glowing with pleasure.

She eased in and kissed the side of my mouth, her free hand lightly caressing my cheek. Maybe I looked nervous, I’m not sure. I was definitely surprised.

I started breathing with a jagged two-part intake, arching my back and tilting my head as Eve’s hand passed over my sash and into my groin. Because I wasn’t wearing underpants, my erection was all the more obvious; having nothing to pin it down and contain it. Not to mention that it had been pushed upward and off to the right from where Eve had been perched on the underside of it earlier. If Eve had designs to avoid it, it would have been a simple thing to do because it was pretty bloody obvious. The damn thing looked bigger than I had ever seen it before and it had started to ache like a son of a bitch.

But Eve clearly hadn’t been angling to stroke my upper thigh or something of the sort. I watched her eyes shift from my own and drop down to examine the pretty obvious tent I had pitched in the front of my pants. Her cheeks were a little red but she didn’t look away or curl in on herself like Fahrenheit seemed to think that she would do. Instead, she lifted her hand and pressed her palm down firmly to the base of the shaft. I moaned, dropping my head onto the back of the sofa as she rubbed the length of me; the fabric of my trousers only providing additional friction.

“ _Oh… God…”_ I growled, sliding my hands down her back and grabbing a hold of her round ass. I squeezed, mauled her a little; feeling like I might pop a nut at any moment. “ _Feels so damn_ good _, sweetness…_ ”

“Feels big.” Eve mused and in such an innocent, surprised tone of voice that I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Thanks.” I said, curving my fingers into the indent of her backside before dragging them back along each cheek. It was hard to concentrate with her hand massaging me the way that it was. “Maybe now you’ll stop referring to him as _Little_ Hancock.”

“Seems so.” Eve said and I could imagine her quirking the side of her lip as she said it. She pushed a long, deep groan out of me as her hand fairly much cupped the length of my dick through my pants and tug all the way from the root to the tip. I knew I would have been leaking from there; given how much I was throbbing and aching for release.

“How’s that?” She asked gently, the heel of her hand pushing and rubbing against me. You would think from the way that I was moaning and groaning that she might have gotten half a clue as to how I was feeling but I thought it was sexy of her to have asked. To get me to vocalize my approval of the act that she was bestowing upon me. Jesus, she might have _seemed_ innocent at times but this girl knew what she was doing. Guess marriage gives you a lot of time to practice… not to mention the whole making a baby thing probably takes a few unusual avenues.

“Fucking _awesome_ …” I growled, wondering even as I said it just how long I’d be able to hold back. If Eve was intending for this thing to go the whole hog, I was going to need to get inside of her soon or risk making a premature, spectacular mess on the inside of my trousers.

I took a chance, bringing one hand off of her ass and sliding it around to the space between our bodies. I drew in all but my index and middle finger, rotating them so that the palm faced upward. Eve’s pelvis rested against my upper thighs but I was able to push them apart just enough to wriggle my hand in underneath her.

She gave a soft little gasp as I brushed my fingers against her, moving them just upward of the centre seam of her trousers. I listened carefully for any alteration in Eve’s breathing; for the slightest change would indicate that I had found the right place. Sure enough, with a flutter of her eyelids and a small arch of her shoulders, she drew in a sharp breath and almost purred as a downward stroke with my index finger lit upon her sweet spot. I returned both fingertips to where I had elicited this reaction and started flicked and curling them in towards me, rubbing and then rotating the pads in circles. Eve murmured, her chin flinching in towards her chest and her own hand faltering on my dick as her concentration was shattered.

“Bloody… bastard…” She managed to choke out, which only made me chuckle a little as I leant up and kissed the delicious little spot underneath her ear.

“Good?”

Green eyes peered out at me from the small slit her lids had permitted. Her plush lower lip hung open as she rotated her pelvis against my fingers, rubbing against me as I in turn stimulated her. “It’s so nice…” She murmured, trying again to rub at my cock but shuddering as I pressed against her in a way that must particularly titillated her. “Oh God… _yes_ …”

I pressed another kiss to her neck, feeling my heart flying out of my chest as my desire to have her here and now became too much to bear. “Turn around…” I whispered into her ear and I think she wondered for a moment just what I meant because her brow arched up curiously. “Sit facing the other way on my lap. So I can… hold you from behind.”

She didn’t question as to why I wanted to do this but shuffled over onto her knees beside me, before then twisting about and swinging her leg back over, so that she was facing in the other direction. I helped ease her back onto my lap, squeezing either side of her ass and pulling it down firmly to press against my dick. I rubbed at her a bit before easing myself up, pressing the sweaty lines of my chest to the long, damp wall of her back. I reached around her, grabbing her breasts and using them to hold on as I squirmed and pushed against her. I’d wanted to feel her from this position; to grab her tits from behind and really give them a good rub from a position where the lines of my arms wouldn’t be inhibited.

We were both so sweaty now that we might as well have both been lathered up with oil. Her breasts slid and slapped against my palms as though she had just gotten out from the shower and hadn’t yet dried off. My chest skimmed along her spine, leaving behind droplets of condensation and trailing, jagged streams. I kissed most away, sucked the side of her neck gently and grazed my teeth against her pulse. Her eyes were shut, her head tilted back and a slight smile on her face. I raised one hand from her breast, pressed my fingers to her cheek to rotate her face towards her shoulder; the way she had done with me earlier. I ducked my chin over so that I could kiss her lips and I felt her tongue dance against my own. She gasped into my mouth as I tweezed and gently pinched her nipples.

It was hard to hold back and not simply ravage her like one of those insane Ghouls at _Wanderer’s Respite_ might have done. But I loved her so much, I couldn’t stand the thought of demeaning or hurting her in any way. I dipped my hand back down between her legs, which I kept separated by pushing apart her knees with my thighs and rubbed at her sweet spot once more. I eased off on her nipple, gently caressing her breast with my palm instead so that the contact teased, rather than battered.

Eve sighed, pressing her back tight to the wall of my chest and eased her own arm up around my head, cupping her hand to the nape of my neck. She pulled me in and kissed me again, teasing the inside of my mouth with her tongue briefly before giving one or two sweet little pecks to my upper lip.

“Take me to the bed…” She murmured, so softly I thought I might have just thought it up because I so desperately wanted to hear it.

I looked her in the eyes, releasing her breast and using this hand instead to cup the side of her head. She seemed very sure of herself; perhaps a little tipsy on account of the wine but I knew she could drink a shit load more than she had done already and still be in control of her faculties. She knew very well what she had just said. And what it meant.

“Are you sure?” I asked, wanting to give her every opportunity to back out before she came to regret it later. The only way I wanted us to go to bed together was if she was entirely at peace with the idea. I couldn’t bear the thought that she could hate me, or herself for it later.

She smirked a little and gave a sarcastic little shrug of her shoulders. “Well, I _was_ thinking we could just do it on the floor but with your leg being the way that it is, I wasn’t certain it was the most sensitive idea.”

I chuckled. “Not to mention a waste of a perfectly brand new bed.” I brushed my fingers over her cheek, noticing that a great deal of her blush and concealer had come off. Shit was probably all over my hands and mouth by now. “So long as you’re ready, darlin’.”

Eve gave a little nod, her expression entirely at peace as she leaned in once more to kiss my mouth. “More than ready.”

I smiled, my heart hammering so hard to my chest I thought it was likely to burst out at any moment. I could hardly convince myself that this was happening. After all this time…

“Okay…” I murmured, framing her shoulders with my arm and patting her stomach very gently. “Lean back and swing your legs over to the right…”

She gave a dreamy little nod as she relaxed back against my arm, going with me towards the left of the couch and then rocking both legs together so that she lay across my lap; her ass resting in the space between my thighs. I hooked my right arm beneath her knees, gave her brow a little kiss and then attempted to push myself onto my feet…

… only to come crashing back down onto the couch with a loud ‘Ooof!’ In all the excitement I had gone and forgotten about my damn fucking leg; attached as it was to my equally as indisposed damn fucking _hip._ When I had gone to stand up, Eve’s weight, combined with my own, had been too much for them to handle and a stabbing pain had gone right through each of my sockets; stabbing right through my groin, knee, shin, ankle and sciatic nerve. It didn’t help that I was still wearing the brace as well, because it hindered my ability to stretch my leg out and centre my balance. Instead, I’d gone tumbling backwards like a drunk old lumberjack; taking poor Eve along for the ride.

“Jesus H. _Christ._ ” I growled irritably to myself, grasping Eve all the more firmly and then stretching my good leg out and digging my heel hard into the floor. I wriggled forward on my rump to the edge of the sofa, ignoring the concerned/slightly amused expression on Eve’s face as I stamped my left leg hard to the ground, stabilized it as much as possible before pushing down into the floor with everything I had. I strained against the weakness of the bones, muscles and once torn tendons; trying my best to shut out the suspicious shuddering of my sciatic nerve and the shocks it was determinedly sending down into my good leg. Eve wasn’t exactly light either, which didn’t help. Wouldn’t have been a problem if my leg hadn’t been such a mess but I’d been sitting for too long and it had gotten stiff from lack of… well, leg related activity. Can’t say the rest of me was unstimulated exactly, but there you go.

“Your leg _is_ still bad.” Eve admonished, as I wobbled backwards and ended up sinking into the sofa again. I took a moment to recover, during which time Eve tried to pull herself up out of my arms. I flexed every muscle in my upper torso to prevent her from moving but she was pretty damn strong herself and she put up a good fight before I ducked my head and gave her a little nip on the shoulder. “Ow! _Hey!_ ”

“Just… give me a minute, okay?” I huffed, kissing the spot I had just bitten as a means of apology. I was frustrated with the wait, wanting to just get on over to the bed and mess that pretty blue duvet up but it seemed like my hip just didn’t want to cooperate. I made a few half-hearted attempts; squiggling and lurching up, around and all over the place, to the result that Eve and I simply ended up side by side on the sofa again. She no longer looked annoyed with me but was laughing fit to bust instead; holding an arm modestly across her breasts to keep them from bouncing.

“You know… I could just… walk myself over to the bed…” She finally managed to snort out, her face going almost entirely red in her amusement. I stared at her, put off with the idea and held my arms about her all the tighter.

“Yes, you _could_ very well do that.” I grumbled, reaching out to brush a strand of sweaty hair away from the corner of her eye. “But for our first time together… I’d like to carry you on over to the bed… You know, do it proper like.”

Her eyes sparked mischievously as she gazed up at me. “Maybe I should be carrying _you_ over to the bed?”

The thought of this pissed me off more than her having to walk _herself_ over. I knew quite well that Eve would have been strong enough to have lifted me; she’d done it before but I had only allowed it because she needed to wrap her arms around my midsection in order to lift me and I rather fancied the thought of us being pressed together. And I had only permitted her to get my feet off of the ground before letting me back down. Deacon of course had no shame and had allowed her to lift him into her arms, where he posed like one of those old world Cheerleaders; one leg pointed to the sky and both arms extended and flashing the peace sign.

Which was fine, if you were just pals. But I never liked the idea of a woman I had feelings for being able to carry me like I was a child. It wasn’t very manly and it might have given her the impression that I was a weakling. Not to mention that I didn’t want Eve to get paranoid over her size and strength. The others sometimes took it a bit far; treating her like she was unfeminine on account of her physical strength. Granted it was sort of funny when MacCready had once asked her to lift up the entire compartment of a plane we had been combing for supplies and to his shock, Eve had gone ahead and done it. What he hadn’t realized at the time was that the shell of the plane had been resting on a very unstable incline, which Nick, Eve and myself had been discussing only minutes earlier. All Eve had done was alter the centre of gravity so that the cabin tipped over onto its far side. For just a few staggering moments it had appeared to MacCready that she was actually lifting nearly an entire plane cabin above her head with one hand. Classic.

“That’s not funny.” I snapped, referring to Eve’s earlier comment about carrying me over to the bed. She however seemed to think it _was_ in fact very funny because she had descended into giggles yet again. “What sort of bloke lets his missus carry him to the bedroom? Now I don’t pretend to know what MacCready and Deacon get up to when their on the job but that shit certainly ain’t my style.”

“Awww…” Eve drawled, sounding extremely condescending as she reached over to rub the side of my hip. “Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you went tangling with Deathclaws and broke your hip like a little old man.”

“You know, I’m glad my critical, possibly permanent injury tickles you.” I said, smiling a little as Eve’s giggles only got louder. She waved a hand at me; either assuaging or trying to prevent me from talking so that she could calm down.

“No, I’m sorry… I’m sorry, it’s not funny… the injury, I mean. But you falling all over the place with your legs up in the air… me rolling back onto the couch…” She pressed her face into my shoulder, her back rising and falling with each accompanying burst of laughter. “Oh dear… what a sexy couple we are doomed to become!”

“We’re plenty sexy.” I insisted, though feeling far from it as I lay slumped on the couch like a defeated old sea creature looking for someplace to curl up and die. It wasn’t helping keep me primed for the occasion either, all this floundering about and giggling and I could feel my erection starting to lose a bit of its resolve. I brought my hand from around Eve’s shoulders and clutched her wrist between my fingers. Her laughter faded away and her eyes watched me, questioning as I eased her arm away from her breasts. I watched the nipples flex back out; still hard and pert and gorgeous. Eve’s eyes fluttered and she murmured softly as I cupped my hand to her right breast; squeezing gently and lightly twirling the nipple with my thumb. I bent my head low to kiss it; tracing it then with the ridges of my nasal cavity and then licking around the areola to bring out the tiny bumps and ridges again. A shiver went through Eve’s spine and I moved up to kiss her mouth, still squeezing and rubbing with my thumb.

“See?” I murmured, smiling as she leaned in to my touch, wrapping her arms around my neck. She kissed me again, her breath hot and insistent as it billowed into me and then she was climbing to her feet, staring down at me; her eyes determined within a red and flushed face.

“If you _insist_ on carrying me to the bed,” she said, reaching out her hand and giving it a shake to encourage me to take it. “Then stand up and I’ll climb _into_ your arms. Once you’re on your feet, it shouldn’t be too hard. But let’s just get a move on with it because… I wanna feel you so damn _bad,_ John.”

I felt weak with desire and even more overwhelmed in my love for her. I staggered onto my feet, ignoring every stabbing ache and pain and pulled her into my arms; wrapping her up and kissing her hard but sweet. I bent my knees a little as I swept one arm down towards her ass. She eased against it and then sort of jumped, clenching her strong arms around my neck and upper back so that she could kind of pull up against me; alleviating some of the pressure against my leg and hip. Her own legs flipped up into the air, feet flapping ungainly for a moment before I swung my arm down further and caught her beneath the knees. We hadn’t stopped kissing the whole time and I continued to do so as I carried her over towards the bed, wishing all the while that I had stripped my leg brace off when we had sat down because it made things slow going. Plenty of time for that once we got settled.

The doona was dappled with streaks of golden afternoon light, which passed over Eve’s tanned skin as I gently lowered her onto the bed. She reached up over her head, grabbing the pillows and cushions and pitching them off and away; apparently deciding that they were going to be an inhibition rather than an asset. I picked up the blanket on the end of the bed, imagining how hot and uncomfortable the thing would make our feet feel if they got tangled up in it and tossed it to the side.

I took her in like a rush of vapours from a Jet Inhaler; feeling a kick that the Chem couldn’t possibly compare to. She had always been an attractive woman but right now, in this moment, she looked absolutely stunning. Blonde hair mussed, tanned skin rosy and glowing, breasts shiny with sweat… Made me wish that I had Adrian’s camera with me, so I could preserve the image in a more tangible form than my sometimes unreliable memory.

I didn’t speak for a moment and I didn’t touch her; simply gazing over the gorgeous tableau of her body as I shucked my boots off one at a time and used my heel to kick them under the bed. Eve draped one hand behind her head, the way she might have done had she been relaxing in a more casual setting. Her other hand rested high on her chest and she trailed her fingers down between her breasts and back up; in a way that made me think she wasn’t actually trying to be sexy. Judging from the expression on her face, this for her was more or less natural.

After a while of this, she gave a nervous little smile and cleared her throat. “Seriously John… you keep staring at me like that and I’m going to blush ‘til my face falls off.”

I chuckled a little as I pulled my socks off, unstrapped the brace from around my leg and dropped it onto the floor with a loud thump. Having made myself somewhat more comfortable, I eased myself onto the bed and scooted along until I could lay beside her; sinking my elbow into the duvet and resting my head against my fist.

“Not tryin’ to embarrass ya.” I said, plucking up the hand she was trailing across her chest and pressing her knuckles against my lips. “Just thinking how beautiful you look… layin’ there in the sunlight. Besides… you know that I’m a perve. Never tried very hard to wrench my eyes away from stuff I like the look of.”

Eve smiled a little, twining her fingers through mine as she looked into my eyes. She still seemed a little shy and uncertain, questioning even, so I tried to relax her by brushing my fingers over her forehead and through her hair.

"I remember you saying that… you liked… watching…” She murmured, flashing me a little smile as she brushed the backs of her fingers over my chest. She looked very embarrassed to be bringing this up and with good reason.

**_The Rolling Ranch – Three Months ago…_ **

Eve was very open about sex and very accommodating about just about damn near everything. She did however admit to not having a great deal of kinks herself and a limited desire to participate in some of the more… diverse practices that were out there. I, on the other hand, had participated in a wide variety of things – not all of which had appealed to me, I must admit but hey, caps were caps back in the day.

It was in the Rolling Ranch where we had first had the conversation; after Eve had found me observing a couple having sex. And before you go and get the wrong idea, no, I’m not such a perverted creep that I followed some poor schmucks to the bedroom and stood outside the door panting and fapping whilst they writhed about on the bed none the wiser. My presence, had in fact been entirely permissible. Encouraged, rather. And it hadn’t taken place in no damn bedroom, I can tell you that.

You see, the Rolling Ranch’s cover had been as a high end exclusive club; where particular persons could be invited to participate in any number of unsecular activities that were hardly what you would consider mainstream.

Naturally, sex was the main request and there had been plenty of it going on in this place. In private bedrooms, in barely lit cushion and drape filled play rooms and then just plain out in the open for anyone to see. And though Eve did confess to enjoying a good perve every once in a while, she was a bit conservative when it came to people actually fucking each other with an audience present. Which, I’m sorry to say, had been absolutely _hysterical_ from my point of view. Poor girls’ eyes nearly bugged out of her head when one couple just started ripping their clothes off and pile driving into each other on the sofa right next to her. Which hadn’t the least been helped when the chick had tried to invite her to join them. Eve had sprung up like she’d been bitten on the ass; flushed, gibbering and quite uncertain as to how to deal with herself. Except for covering _my_ eyes with one hand (since I was apparently so _virginish_ that I needed to be protected from the scandalous sight) quaffing as much wine as she could with the other and dragging us both off in the other direction as fast as her little high heeled shoes could take her.

It had been sometime later, after we had briefly separated to go hunting about for whatever secrets this place concealed, that she had found me back in the main room; drinking a whiskey and leaning on the doorframe. I was watching another couple make merry; a Smoothskin male and a female Ghoul. The guy had had his face buried between the gals’ thighs when I had wandered up and I was curious to see how the two of them might muddle along together through the rest of their session. They both seemed pretty into it, which was a relief. Sometimes a Smoothskin will only get so far before pulling the pin out of anxiety and or disgust. Not this bloke, it seemed. Eve had caught up with me, just as the fella positioned himself over the Ghoul and thrust himself inside of her.

“Hey, have you found any – _Oh – oh golly. Oh my, oh – oh…_ two people making love… right there, on the floor.” She peered at me from behind the wall she had constructed with her hand; used to block out the pair of bodies writhing on the floor. “And _you_ standing here… watching them…”

I gave a little shrug, unconcerned. “They know I’m here.”

Her brows, dyed black as part of her disguise, shot up into the lines of her forehead. Easier for me to see with her hair pulled back tightly under the carefully coifed wig that she was wearing.

“What and they’re just… happy that you’re standing here _staring at them?_ ”

I chuckled and sighed a little, forgetting how straight laced Eve could be at times. All the acceptance in the world, until it was shoved right under her nose. “That’s kind of what this place is all about, Munch. Unreserved and uninhibited. Exploring kinks and indulging yourself without worrying about the condemnation of a harsh, judgmental world. Some people like being watched, some people like doing the watching. Me? I’m the latter. These two little star struck sweethearts on the floor, are the former.”

Eve took a big gulp of her wine as she continued to do everything to look in any other direction but the one in which I was facing. “Yes, well… how romantic that the three of you managed to find one another.”

“Hey, there were a few other folks standing around watching a while ago. I’m the only one that’s stuck around to see if it’ll go the distance.”

“Yeah, well… looks like it’s going.” Eve said, sounding very uncomfortable amidst all the impassioned noises that the couple on the floor were making. “And going and going… and going…”

I tilted my head at her, flashing a patient smile as I took another sip from my whiskey. “Hey, no one’s making you hang around, sister. Feel free to move along and cast aspersions somewhere else.”

She gave me a grumpy look. “I’m not casting… aspersions. It’s just… not my cup of tea. And besides,” She flapped the hand holding her wine glass against my arm. “We’re supposed to be looking for clues. What kind of clues do you suppose _those two_ might be hiding? Unless she’s got a key hidden up her thatch or they just so happen to be making rumpy-pumpy on top of a hidden doorway or something.”

I laughed at this, though I knew she was becoming genuinely irritated at this point. “Well, you never know.”

“Yeah, well I doubt _both_ of those possibilities.” She muttered, peeking around the wall of her hand and then lowering it entirely to look at the couple for a moment. She cocked her head, like a curious pup. “Though… I guess I can admit that these two look pretty romantic… You know, compared to those two horny fucking orangutans that started humping each other on the couch beside me.”

I chuckled at the memory, my eyes remaining on the couple all the while. “The _look_ on your face, Munch.”

“Oh shut up.” She grumbled, moving closer to stand by my side. She took another sip from her wine, observing in silence for a moment. Then; “It _is_ nice to see a female Ghoul getting her rocks off…”

“That it is.” I murmured, amused by Eve’s sudden interest. In the very beginning, I think she was trying to keep her cover by not coming over too squeamish but after a while, I do believe she might have been enjoying it. Just a little bit. She still closed her eyes and turned her head away, muttering ‘Oh geez’ on occasion but other times, she would curl her wine glass in towards her chest, tilt her chin to the side and rub her lips together. Her breathing sharpened a little too, which suggested she might have been feeling just the slightest bit aroused.

“So you… enjoy this sort of thing? Watching?” She had asked me, having turned away at a particularly delicious moment when the couple had rolled over and the Ghoul found herself on top. Eve had flinched a little at the sight of her impaling herself on the guys cock, though her eyes glanced back occasionally towards the still writhing figures.

“Depends on who I’m watching.” I said honestly, taking another sip from my whiskey as the Ghoul grabbed the fellas’ hands and brought them up to press against her breasts. “For example; I like watching these two because I like _her_. Hard enough being a Ghoul but I imagine it’s even harder being a lady Ghoul. Double the prejudice, you know? And yet here she is; taking complete control of her own pleasure. Showing this guy what works for her, what makes her feel good.” I glanced towards Eve, giving her a little smile; thinking that of all things, _this_ would be something that she understood. “She’s a brave dame. Strong and sexy and in control. Doesn’t that appeal to you?”

She gave a little nod, still looking slightly uncomfortable however. “Yeah, of course… I think it’s wonderful for her. I think it’s wonderful for anyone in any relationship to be able to enjoy one another like that.” She gave me a sheepish little smile. “I just… don’t really get off on watching other people do it. I’d much rather be doing it myself.”

My heart thumped a little in my chest; perhaps the slightest bit too receptive in this environment. “Oh… as do I, Munchkin. I just don’t mind having a little look on occasion. With consent, of course. Wouldn’t go poking my nasal cavity through anyone’s curtains or the like.”

“Thank god for that.” Eve said, turning her head back towards the couple and watching in silence for a while. She then asked; “If I wasn’t with you, would you go and join them?”

It was a hard question to answer in some ways. Mainly difficult because I didn’t quite know myself. “Well, I haven’t been invited.” I responded most earnestly, tracing my eyes over the Ghoul’s body and pondering to myself whether I would like to touch her. Kiss her, squeeze her and slide into her. I pretty much knew the answer already and it wasn’t an altogether flattering one. “Back in the old days, maybe. But… I’m uh… I’m not exactly what you would call… especially loyal to the cause.”

“What do you mean?” Eve asked curiously, tilting her brow up towards me.

I gestured with my head back towards the occupied couple, lowering my voice further so as to not offend them with what came next. “It’s just a… personal preference thing but I don’t exactly… date inside the race.” I gave a roll of my shoulder and reached up to adjust the brim of the fedora that I was wearing as part of my disguise. “Every once in a while I’ll hook up with a Ghoul dame but my preference is Smoothskin gals. Always has been. But her,” I said, nodding towards the Ghoul as she continued to impale herself on the shaft of the fella beneath her. “Yeah, for sure. I wouldn’t have an qualms with sleeping with her. She looks like a lot of fun. And I definitely like watching her. The guy I could take or leave.”

Eve tilted her head, giving me an even more puzzled look. “I’m a little confused… you told me some time ago that you weren’t interested in having sex with guys.”

I snorted at her. “Damn straight. I meant in regards to watching. When I watch a couple, there’s usually only one I’m interested in watching. Usually the dame. Sometimes a fella might have a good technique and I enjoy watching what he can do to the gal he’s with. But I’m definitely not interested in fucking him myself. Guy comes near me, the only thing he’s getting up his ass is my boot.”

Eve lowered her head and chuckled a little, taking a sip from her wine that she nearly spurted back out into the glass as the guy on the floor screamed out in pleasure, arching his back so that he damn near lifted the little Ghoul lady off of her knees.

“Hmm… he could have staggered that a bit longer.” I murmured to myself, polishing off the last of my whiskey and watching as the couple sat, panting and recovering on the floor; the gal sliding down to rest her torso against the wall of the guys chest. He stayed buried inside of her and a part of me felt envious for their connection. I wished it could have been Eve and I instead.

And of course, it wasn’t like I could tell her the truth as to what I had been thinking as I had watched the couple making love so passionately like that on the floor. That I had imagined it was the two of us instead; writhing on that plush red carpet with the eyes of envious others upon us. That it was _my_ face buried between Eve’s thighs, kissing and pleasuring each curve, crevice and cleft of her puss. My cock being slammed up into her as she dropped her hot wet centre over me, crashing me down into the carpet and bringing my hands up to squeeze her breasts. If it had been Eve doing these things to me, I’m not sure I would have lasted much longer than the poor spent fellow on the floor. 

“It’s weird…” Eve murmured from off the side. From the corner of my eyes, I could see her staring in my direction.

“What’s weird, exactly?”

“All that sexiness and you without so much as a hint of a chubby.”

It was my turn to nearly lose my drink out of my mouth and I reached out to lightly cuff my hand to the back of her head, smirking at the pleased little smile on her face as she attempted to duck away from me.

“That’s not quite how it works for me.” I explained, hooking my arm around her shoulders and leading her away from the room. I gave the side of her head a quick peck. “Anyway, let’s get back to what we were doing or the reporter will never let us hear the end of it…”

**_Goodneighbor – Current day…_ **

“It was vicarious…” I whispered to Eve, stroking the spaces between her fingers and then pressing my thumb gently to each cuticle. “I wanted to be with you… I was waiting all that time for you and watching them… I thought of us instead.”

“You wished it was me?” Eve asked gently, her face non-judgmental but simply curious. I sighed softly as I continued to rub and caress her hand.

“I had a lot of thoughts.” I admitted, kissing her knuckles and then rubbing them against my cheek. “But you knew that already. What you _didn’t_ know was just how much love came with those desires.”

Eve smiled as she tilted her head up and kissed me, her knee curling over so that her right hip projected towards the ceiling. I tried to let go of her hand so that I could stroke the side of her face but she kept a tight hold, bringing our flushed palms back up to just beside her face following our kiss. She tilted them from side to side, pressing her fingers between my own and gazing at them.

“You have such… perfect hands.” She breathed softly and I immediately snorted with laughter. Damn, this poor girl _really_ needed to get herself some glasses. Though she’d probably just put them on, take one look at me and scream and pass away.

“Um… yeah. Fail to notice the wrinkled up old skin did ya, love?”

Eve sighed and gave me an impatient look. “I’m _not_ talking about the skin… it’s the shape. You’ve got fingers like a pianist.” She traced her fingers along mine, focusing particularly below the middle knuckle of each one, I noticed. “Not too long and not too short… but angular. My mother always noticed people’s hands. Made _me_ start taking notice as well.” She pressed her palm and fingers flat to my own and spread them like a fan, comparing the size and shape. “Look how pretty they are next to my big fat fingers.”

I immediately dropped my own fingers down between hers and squeezed her palm to mine tightly. “You don’t got ‘big fat fingers’. You’ve got lovely hands.”

Eve just smiled at me and kind of brushed me off. “I’ve always loved your hands. First time you and I had a proper conversation, I noticed how beautiful they were… You were lighting up a cigarette. For just a moment, I wanted to _be_ that cigarette. To see how it felt to be held by you.” Her eyes sparked with a hidden meaning that now only the two of us knew how to interpret. “Now I know.”

I stared at her for a while; bemused as ever by her ability to find things to like in people that most others wouldn’t notice at all. Let alone comment on. Let alone… love.

“You know…” I said, my voice cracking a little from the emotion I suddenly felt. I took a moment to clear my throat. “You are the only person in the world who could say something like that and almost make me believe it.”

Eve smiled as she moved her thumb down to press into the palm of my hand. She held it steady and leaned in; pressing kisses to my fingertips. To my surprise, she then slid my index finger between her lips and slowly started to suck on it. The hot, tight wetness around my digit astonished me as much as it aroused me. But my first and immediate thought was to spare her from it.

“Darlin’… no.” I chided, pulling her finger out from between my lips like a child who had been caught sucking on something they ought not to have been. She looked just as innocently perplexed as a child might also have done. “You don’t… wanna be… sucking on my… dirty old finger like that. I know it ain’t nice for ya.”

Eve stared at me, looking confused and personally injured by my refusal to let her taint her mouth with my vulgar flesh. After a few seconds of this silent staring, her eyes suddenly welled and she reached forward again; grabbing at the hand that I had only just confiscated from her.

“I _told_ you that I’m not afraid of your skin, John. I’m not disgusted by it, or by _you_.” She insisted, reaching out with her spare hand to stroke down my chest. Her fingers lingered against scars, tears and other unsavoury places. “This skin, these scars… they’re all a part of you. It all adds up to the man I love.”

I felt the push of her pelvis against my own, her leg curling around my hip and holding me inert while she eased herself against me. I felt a shift in her weight and then she was turning me, pressing me down into the mattress and climbing on top of me. Damn… she really _did_ like to be in control, huh? Not that it was a bad position to be in. I took full advantage of it and pushed her chest up and away from my own; groaning softly to see how her breasts now hung suspended by their full weight. I eased her down so that her nipple slipped between my lips and I sucked and licked at it as though it were a ripe piece of fruit being dangled above my mouth. Eve softly moaned, allowing me to have my way with both of her breasts before she herself started teasing me in return. She wriggled down a little, pushing her lips to the burn scar on my chest and tonguing it softly as her palm slid even further, over my hip and past my sash. She stroked at my cock with the heel of her hand, using her fingers to clench about me in a downward caress; the material of my pants rubbing against me with an almost grain like sensation. Her hand went away and I felt then a tight wrenching about my waist as she fastened herself onto the knot in my sash. The loops must have been tighter than she anticipated because she was required to bring both hands to the party, digging her short fingernails into it and slowly easing the material apart, one bare inch at a time. I watched her, dancing my tongue out over my suddenly too dry lips.

When the knot finally flexed free, she pulled the halves of the flag apart and reached one hand down under my hip.

“Lift your ass.” She said and I dutifully raised my rump from the bed so that she could yank the sash out from underneath me with all the drama of a magician performing a standing glass trick to a paying audience. She went to toss the flag to the floor but then changed her mind, clearly remembering the rule about Old Glory and quickly wound it about the head post of the bed instead.

“There you go…” She murmured, leaning up to a plant a kiss to my cheek, as both hands drifted down now to the front of my pants. “Let’s get you comfortable, huh?” She started working on the top most button but I latched down and grabbed her hands, lifting them away and giving both a soft squeeze.

“It’s okay, darlin’. I can take care of it.” I said, my voice far more formal than usual. It was something that happened when I was distracted; my tone reverted to that clipped, pretentious Diamond City drawl that I had worked so hard to cover up since moving permanently to Goodneighbor. But veiling my speech patterns was quite honestly the last thing on my mind at the moment.

Fahrenheit hadn’t been wrong in saying that a Ghoul’s dick was far from a pretty sight and I wanted to spare Eve as much of this as possible. My strategy in the past had been to wait until I’d made a gal come, so that she was relaxed and suitably distracted, which allowed for me to slip on inside without her having to see too much or guide me in herself. Once I was in there and moving, they didn’t seem to care too much about how the damn thing looked; only that it was doing the job it needed to be doing. I was hoping for my first time with Eve that I could be as subtle as this; give her more time to grow accustomed to me, rather than risk turning her right off completely.

Eve curved her shoulders in, closing her eyes momentarily and hefting a deep, low sigh. The type that suggested she was paying for patience. Having apparently mustered some, she lifted her lashes once more and met my eyes with her own; smiling and squeezing my hands in turn.

“Honey… is this whole feeling ashamed of yourself thing every going to end? Because it’s starting to get old.” She moved her lips to the space where my nose had been and kissed the upper most ridge gently. “Here you were, getting cross with me for being awful to myself and you sir, are no better in your own self critique.”

I chuckled lightly, acknowledging her point as I brushed my fingers across her cheek so softly that it tickled. “It’s not shame, love. I just… figured it would be easier if you… didn’t have to look at it.”

“Jesus John, it’s going to be inside of me soon enough. Not to mention I’ve had a fair to decent glimpse of it at _Wanderers Respite_ already. So unless you’re hiding another surprise down there… like it’s gone and grown an extra head like a Brahmin…” I made a point of glancing off to the side and biting my lip as if to acknowledge the validity of this statement and Eve’s jaw dropped a few good inches. “Wait… it hasn’t, has it?”

I was forced to press my lips together tightly in an attempt to hide the fact that I was laughing at her and she wasn’t the least impressed by it. Her fist punched the mound of my right pectoral hard enough to leave me stinging and slightly winded.

“I take it that’s a no then? Well, I can’t imagine you’ve got much to worry about. I hate to tell you this, sweetheart but no mans’ penis is exactly pretty.” She pressed her lips against my own, sliding her tongue into my mouth as a distraction so that the grip I had about her wrists lessened. No longer restricted, she moved them back to the top of my pants and tightened her fingers around the uppermost button. “So just… shut up and relax, okay?”

I gave a deep moan, which she took as a sign for consent and started to prise the little button free from the slip of material into which it was imbedded. The pair of pants I was currently wearing were in fact a re-creation; possessing three buttons at the groin for appearances sake but also concealing a zipper expertly hidden underneath, so as to not destroy the illusion of the outfit. Eve undid these three buttons first before sliding her fingers beneath the fabric awning and getting a hold of the zipper tab. She must have been able to feel me bulging through the fabric and I squirmed a little, desperate to be free of the constriction of my trousers. Even if it meant that Eve would soon came face to face with what was contestably the very ugliest part of my body… Not including my scrotum, which was bought along into the category by neighborly association.

I groaned with relief as I felt her ease down the zipper, instantly alleviating some of the pressure. She did this very carefully, conscious I think of the fact that I wasn’t wearing underpants and that my skin might have gotten caught in the zipper if she rushed.

She gripped the sides of my trousers and gave them a firm tug to release them from the arch of my hips. They dropped just enough to free my dick from where it had been caught up against the inside hem of my pants and it swung back around to sit vertical, pointing proudly up towards my stomach. It felt so damn good to be free of the restriction of my pants but I didn’t want to relax yet, watching Eve so very carefully for her reaction. For the slightest indication of revolt or disgust.

She looked at me, just as intensely as I had stared at her breasts earlier. I felt for her because I was fond of my dick, as most guys tend to be, but even to me it looked a hideous, presumptuous thing. Bigger and bolder than I’m certain I’d ever seen it too, which I can’t say was a redeeming feature as it only made the faults of the flesh more obvious in contrast.

It was scarred of course, like the rest of my body but my erection had pulled a lot of these indentations tighter than they would have been if it had been flaccid. I guess that was _one_ thing it had in its favor. Not to mention that I didn’t have a foreskin; my father having always been concerned with matters of health and hygiene regarding the old todger region. He’d seen to it that McDonough and I had both been snipped shortly after birth. Just another of those many memories I’m glad I couldn’t recall but one I was now inherently grateful for. Most male Ghoul’s foreskins normally deteriorated and fell off naturally but until that point, the upkeep was extremely high maintenance.

I watched Eve carefully but her face gave nothing away. Though she hadn’t yet screamed like a dying Molerat, flung her legs over the side of the bed and started scrabbling about the floor for something to attack me with.  Reassured, I chanced a smile.

“Hey Munch… keep looking at it like that, you’re going to make _me_ blush,” I said, which caused her to laugh in a strange, high pitched almost giddy way. As though she was… relieved or something. Perhaps she _had_ half been expecting to find a second irradiated head staring back at her from my pants.

“Geez…” She murmured, shaking her head in bemusement. “The way everyone carries on, you would think Ghouls had weeping, oozing sores and throbbing pustules hidden underneath their clothes…”

She smiled at me, her eyes half hooded and thick with adoration as she leaned down, stroking her hands along the bare stretch of my upper torso. Her lips pressed against one of my eyes, forcing it to shut against the gentle, fluttering kiss.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about honey,” She whispered, turning my own words against me as we brought our foreheads together. I squeezed her upper arms, feeling the bicep muscles flex against my palms as she caressed my face in turn. “I want you…” She pushed back against my chest, lifting herself enough so that she could shuffle backward down the bed, until she was laying between my thighs. My eyes widened and my breath caught tight in my lungs as her hand closed around my cock. She squeezed me upward, slowly and firm, which forced a sound from me that I can’t say I’d ever made before. “Let me show you how much.”

She didn’t give me so much as a chance to stop; panting and recovering as I was from what she had just done with her hand. This couldn’t compare however, to the feeling that shortly followed, as her fingers loosed from about my member, only to be replaced by the warm, wet circle of her mouth instead.

 _Oh God… oh dear fucking_ God… The moan that came out of me was so loud, it would have been a miracle if none of the boys outside the door had heard it. My back came right off of the bed, some of the duvet sticking to me as my spine arched; my fingers clenching the material into wrinkled apices. My eyes flooded with tears, which spilled out down either side of my face and formed streams across my temples and through the crevices of my ears. I writhed as though I were a fish skewered on the end of a hook; my foggy brain all but collapsing in on itself as my body contorted with pleasure.

How long had it been? Years… fucking _years_ since a woman had gone down on me. Maybe once since I had become a Ghoul and I remember it as being a half-hearted slobbery attempt that I had nonetheless relished at the time. But it was nothing like this. And to think… I’d been trying to prevent her from sucking on my _finger_!

“Eve… Oh… _GOD!”_ I groaned, reaching down with one hand and sliding my trembling fingers into the wavy, damp hair on the back of her head. Eve made a muffled sort of ‘Shh, shh, shh’ sound from around my dick, concerned I think that we would be overheard but I honestly couldn’t give two fucks. Not when she was doing what she was doing. Her mouth was hot and wet and her cheeks and tongue pressed to me tight as she sucked, applying pressure as she worked her lips up and down the shaft with a confidence that staggered me.

I dragged my heels across the bed, sucking in deep breaths that turned to whimpers and sighs as she took more of me over her tongue, drawing the head of my cock further down so that I touched to the back of her throat. She slid her hands around my hips, underneath my ass, which she clenched and mauled much the way that I had done to her own earlier. I felt the tightness of her throat press in against me and her shoulders lurched; the back of her tongue crushing against me as her body contorted with an obvious gag reflex. She was clearly trying to take in more of me than she was comfortable with but she persisted, drawing her lips up the length of the shaft, before swirling the underside of her tongue over the head. I groaned at the feel of it, smiling a little to myself when I realized she knew this little trick as well.

My head lolled against all my efforts to lift it but I finally managed, staring down at Eve to see that she too was gazing at me. The tip of my dick throbbed and ached even more, I was so turned on to see her like this; crouched between my thighs with her mouth wrapped around me so exquisitely, her back, long and bare and glowing golden in the sun. The red and green of the rose tattoo on her shoulder looked even more brilliant in contrast.

“Holy shit… honey… you got no… no idea- _ahhh!_ ” I cried out, tilting my head back as she dropped her lips tightly along the length of my dick, sucking hard so that I was drawn flush against her tongue and the roof of her mouth. “How… how long it’s been since…” I broke off into another groan as she started moving along my erection; bobbing her head to some internal timer. “Jesus… since… anyone’s done this to me…”

I gave a long, satisfied moan, continuing to toy gently with her hair and keeping my hips as steady as possible. I wanted to thrust up into the hot cavern of her mouth; press her head down tight to me and just fuck that sweltering space between her lips but I kept myself in check. It felt amazing, sure but I couldn’t just lose all control and risk hurting her like that. I felt lucky enough to be getting this much; no one was exactly chomping at the bit to go South on a Ghoul so to be receiving this treatment from the woman I loved… Christ. I could barely believe it was happening.

I heard her suck a deep breath of air through her nose, pulling back now so that my dick sprang out of her mouth and smacked down wetly against the line of my abdomen. She leaned in quickly, sliding her tongue up along the length of me, from root to tip before swallowing me whole into her mouth once more. I gasped softly; a sound which sank slowly into a deep, contented growl that seemed to rumble directly from my chest. Her hands groped me from beneath, tugging my pants down and out of the way so that she could slide her palms in and cup to my ass; digging her nails in and clenching and squeezing hard. I started to move my hips a little; gently rolling against her mouth in a controlled effort that was near killing me from holding back.

I think she decided to chance her gag reflex again and the next time she dropped her mouth down, she pushed her lips a little further so that the head of my cock pushed back deeper into her throat. Once again, her shoulders rocked forward to follow the heave that rippled through her but she swallowed it down; squashing the tip of my dick in her throat as she did.

I choked out a noise then; which I think sounded little different to someone who had just been punched in the stomach. It was almost more than I could take and I felt a violent quaver rock down through the back of my thighs and a tight ache throb and spasm through the head of my erection. She continued to suck at me; moving faster now, as though she could tell that I was closing in on my climax. My fingers knotted into the back of her hair again and my head rolled and twisted from side to side on the duvet. I was moaning… breathing, _‘Thankyou…’_ ‘ _I love you’_ and ‘ _Don’t stop…’_ at her, feeling the roll of tears from my tightly clenched eyes. I couldn’t recall _anything_ in my life feeling so good… I thought I might come apart at the seams any moment.

And then I heard a voice from outside.

“I ain’t fucking _knocking. You_ fucking knock, you think it’s so damn important.”

I groaned, not bothering so much with lifting my head at the possibility of an intrusion. Eve did however and I near sobbed to feel her mouth slip away from me, just when I had been so close to coming. She gazed over her shoulder at the door, silent for a moment as she waited to hear what else might be said. I fluttered my fingers desperately over her arms; like a dog pawing at a door wanting to be let inside during a rainstorm.

“Please darlin’… _please don’t stop_. Whatever the fuck they got goin’ on, it can _wait_.”

Eve didn’t look entirely convinced and she did in fact make a point of lifting her arm to press against her breasts; as though she were afraid someone might step into the room at any moment. When no one spoke for a minute or two, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, shrugged a little and then settled back down between my thighs.

“Must have decided it wasn’t worth the effort.” She suggested, using one hand to pull my erection back towards her and then slipping her mouth down over top of it again. I cried out as I was sucked back inside that sweet, juicy tunnel; her tongue swirling all around me. Oh, it felt good… felt so damn good…

“Ya hear that?” It was Jack’s voice and he sounded pretty darn firm with the person he was talking to. “Boss is gettin’ his rocks off in there with the Muncher finally and you’re askin’ _me_ to go and interrupt? Ain’t worth my pay grade pal, you can just go ahead and knock your damn self.”

Eve’s mouth slid neatly off of me and she raised both hands in the air; her cheeks flushing bright red. “Oh God, they can _hear_ us. That’s it. I’m out.”

I jerked my head up off of the mattress and snarled towards the door. “I SWEAR TO GOD, IF _ANYONE_ KNOCKS ON THAT FUCKING DOOR, _I’LL BLOW THEIR FUCKING HEADS OFF_!!”

“Jesus, _calm down.”_ Eve said, shocked by my outburst. Her palm rubbed my thigh tenderly, as though it might somehow assuage my anger and the still throbbing pent up boner that continued to jut out of my pants. “It might be important, you shouldn’t just ignore it. Far be it from you to forget that you’re still mayor of this town.”

I slapped my palm over my face, covering my eyes so that she couldn’t see just how close to crying I was. God damn, it had been feeling so _awesome…_ I hadn’t wanted to cum in her mouth or anything, not this early on but to feel myself dragged in so close like that... I just wanted… more. And then I wanted to make love to her, not go tugging my pants up against all laws of physics and strutting back out into Goodneighbor to solve _another_ problem.

“I don’t wanna be mayor anymore…” I sulked, which only made Eve chuckle a little as she leaned over and wrapped her arms around my chest; giving my sides a tender stroke. Her lips pecked at my cheek.

“Well I hope you’re fucking _happy._ ” I heard Jack hiss from outside. “Because it’ll be _all_ our asses now. Just fucking run back to Fahrenheit and tell _her_ to come and fetch him out herself next time and save us all the reaming-”

I sighed, wrapping my arm around Eve’s shoulder and hating my life more by the moment. “It’s fine, Jack. Just tell me what the fucking problem is already…”

There was some shuffling from behind the door and then Jack hefted a long, deep sigh of his own. As though he himself was as truly aggrieved as I was. Jack had served as almost a standard doorman to my private room for most of my constituency as mayor, because he was tough, discreet and wasn’t easily talked around by some of the more flappable sorts who wanted me to jump to attention whenever they desired it. If he was having trouble diverting this sort of shit away from my door, I could guarantee that he had some persistent competition on his hands.

“Sorry, boss. Apparently there’s some sorta… emergency down in the East Division. I was _tryin’_ ta tell this joker to go back and get that sorry lot down there to handle it themselves but they’re apparently requesting you. He’s pretty fucking insistent on the matter.”

“I’ll give you five thousand caps if you shoot him.” I said, smirking to myself as Eve’s head jerked up from my chest; her mouth gaping in disbelief. I heard a snicking sound from behind the doorway as Jack immediately cocked his weapon, followed by an echo from most likely every other gun in the building. Eve yelled out for them to stop before turning her glowering, disappointed gaze back towards me.

 _“Johnathon Hancock! You can’t just swan through life having people shot because they stopped you from getting head!_ ” She hissed, curling her hand into a claw like shape and then scraping her non-existent nails across my stomach. I grabbed at her fingers, holding them inert and groaning softly as I lowered my lips to kiss the sweat streaked line of her forehead.

“Jesus Munch, do you really want me to up and deal with someone else’s bullshit right now?” I appealed, giving her the widest, most endearing puppy dog eyes I was capable of. She sighed a little herself, slipping a strand of hair back behind her ear before rubbing the palm of that hand across my still sweaty chest.

“Not especially.” She confessed, pressing her temple against my shoulder and gazing down to follow the movements of her hand. “I’d rather you stay here and… make love to me in this gorgeous bed; with that sun streaming in on us through the window. And then I can rub lotion all over your sunburnt bottom afterward.” I chuckled, thinking it very optimistic of her to presume that I would last long enough our first time for my ass to get sunburnt. “But you can’t just go… shirking your responsibilities to this town now that I’m a part of your life. You’re mayor of Goodneighbor, first and foremost.”

I groaned querulously, dropping my head back against the duvet and glaring with still blurry eyes towards the ceiling. Being mayor sure as shit never seemed less appealing than it did this moment. I used to make the joke about being too busy to take a shit but if I couldn’t even take five minutes to please my lover, I might just go and toss the tarnished crown to Fahrenheit and light on outta the place.

“Hey.” Eve said softly, brushing her fingertip down along the side of my mouth. “It was _that_ mayor I started falling in love with, you know. That sexy, charismatic, smooth talking King of the Zombies. This will always be your town and you’ll always love it, even when you’re irritated by it.” She smirked up at me, caressing her palm down my cheek. “You’ll find that to be very true with most things you love. Even me.”

I turned and gazed at her; thinking that I wasn’t the only smooth talker in the room and darted my eyes across her face. I wanted to drink in every last inch of her; preserve and ferment the memories within my mind so that I could drift back and savour these salacious moments as I was once more dragged from pillar to post by the other woman in my life. The town I had championed all those long years past.

“Find that hard to believe.” I murmured, ducking my head and kissing her plush lips. I remembered how they had been rimmed snug about my cock only a few minutes earlier and groaned again for the fact that it had prematurely ended. “Aahhh… god I don’t wanna go. I can deal with being a bad mayor.” I buried my face back into the wall of her chest, grumbling painfully to myself as I kissed the curves of her breasts again. “Just let me stay... I’ll pile furniture against the doors and nail up the windows. We’ll be like… a couple of princesses in a tower. I’ll be the ugly one experimenting with her sexuality.”

Eve laughed as she caressed my head. “Only last so long as we start getting hungry. Then we’ll just end up eating one another.” She held up a finger and tapped it sharply to my nasal cavity as I glanced up at her; smiling suggestively. “ _Not_ what I meant, cheeky. And anyway, we’ve still got our date tonight. Plenty of time to pick up where we left off.” She leaned close, eyes fanning almost entirely shut as her smile took on its very own sensual curl. “Or for you to return the favor, maybe?”

My heart thumped in my chest as I scooped my hand around the side of her face. “Like you even have to ask…” I murmured, cupping my mouth to hers and feathering gently at her tongue with my own. When it ended, Eve smiled and leant her forehead against my cheek, curling all the tighter in against me.

“To be honest,” She murmured. “I’m feeling pretty wrecked. It’s been a long day and all that wine, the heat… not to mention…” She glanced up at me coyly and then looked away, biting her lip adorably. “Thinking it might be a good idea to go ahead and take that nap now. Then I’ll grab myself a shower after I’m done and get myself sorted for our date. Would that be all right with you?”

I smiled as I placed a kiss into her hair. “Of course it’s fine with me. One of us should get to enjoy the bed at least. Even if you do pong up all the sheets; ya dirty old Molerat.” She chuckled a little and smacked me lightly on the stomach as I mustered what strength I could and hefted myself up and onto the side of the bed. I managed to slip my withering penis back inside of my trousers before hefting them back up to cover my ass as well. I glanced over my shoulder at Eve; who lay curled on her side where I had left her. “I forgot to ask… you need anything to eat? Here I am just heaping all those drinks on ya and not a bite to be seen… any wonder it went to your head.”

Eve’s lips curled into an amused smile. “Had a nibble before I got to town, honey. Think the wine might have ‘gone to my head’ cause of that scotch I slurped before we swanned on it. Not to mention all this heat.” She rolled over onto her back, running a hand across her forehead and sighing tiredly to herself. Her breasts sank down and pointed out to either side of her chest; both still slick with sweat and rosy with the reminiscence of my kisses. “You couldn’t grab me a tin of water, could you darl? Feelin’ about as dry as an old Nun’s cooch right now.”

“Sure I can.” I said, smiling as I staggered up off of the bed; surprised to feel my own head spinning as I found my feet. Oops… looks like I’d gone and gotten a little looped after all. I made my way over to the bar fridge, taking out a tin of purified water for Eve and one for myself, figuring I’d slurp on it as I made my way to the Eastern district; try and sober up a bit.

Eve had perched herself on the edge of the bed and was currently struggling out of her jeans as I approached with the tin of purified water. She took it with a murmur of gratitude and I waited there, sipping from my own tin as I watched her disrobe further. She wore a plain pair of white panties underneath her trousers; hemmed with a small detail of lace and accented by a tiny bow just above her pubic area. I thought how close I had come to yanking these off of her and sighed, low and sad to myself. Eve caught me looking and smiled sympathetically.

“We’ll get there, sweetheart. One of these days.” She said, picking the jeans up from around her feet and folding them into a nearly neat square that she then dropped to the floor beside the bed. I lifted the doona for her and she pulled her knees up tight to her chest so that she could slide them in underneath. She shuffled down until her breasts were safely hidden under the covers and I made a big point of tucking her in at all angles; until she looked like a swaddled infant. She gave a little laugh at my efforts.

“Probably get too hot with this doona today. This is where bedsheets actually come in handy. Just wrap a single one around yourself so you don’t get too overheated.” She said, treating me to some of her domestic wisdom in her usual passive-aggressive ‘You-did-okay-but-you-should-have-done-this-instead’ sort of manner. I gave her a ruffle on the head for her efforts. “Hey… you reckon you could grab my Pip-Boy out of my bag for me? I’ll set an alarm, so I don’t oversleep. What time were you thinking about taking me out for our date?”

I mused to myself as I trotted over to her bag; surprised that with all the excitement I hadn’t even noticed the Pip-Boy was missing from her arm. Bloody good thing as well, considering how cumbersome the fucking thing was.

“Six O sound okay to you?” I queried, crouching down near the bag and ruffling inside until I located the thick, metallic band of the personal computing device. Eve nodded drowsily at me as I carried it over and passed it into her hands.

“Sounds perfect. What’s it now… around 2ish…? Plenty of time for me to get a kip in, wash up, cook up and dress up.” She fiddled about with the dial of the Pip-Boy and then pressed a couple of buttons to set an alarm. After placing it down on the bedside table beside her water she turned and gave me a content, yet noticeably bleary look. “Now get going before something dreadful happens and I feel guilty for keeping you. Oh and if you could please switch the radio off on the way out?”

“Sure thing, chicken.” I said, picking up my shirt from where Eve had dropped it on the floor and swinging it back over my arms and onto my shoulders. I left it unbuttoned because fuck it. These bastards saw fit to interrupt me in what was perhaps my greatest moment of pleasure, they could just jolly well live with the consequences. I returned to the credenza and switched the radio off, before whipping my sash from around the post of the bed and tying it back about my waist. I grabbed up the pillows from the floor and helped Eve to lift her head so that I could squeeze one underneath her noggin. When I was certain she was settled comfortably I perched by her side just long enough to stroke my fingers over through her hair. She gazed up at me and murmured sweetly, the tiniest smile gracing her lips.

“I love you.” I whispered, ducking my head and kissing her once; lingering but chaste. I didn’t want to risk exciting myself again and besides, Eve looked far too sleepy now for me to risk rousing her. She returned my kiss and then raised herself ever so slightly to press her lips to the ridge of my nasal cavity. She pecked me there, so sweetly I felt my muscles go lax.

“I love you too.” She murmured, stroking my face briefly before turning her cheek back into her pillow and shutting her eyes. She flapped her hand at me urgently. “Now get on out. Get.”

I chuckled as I slid my hat, socks, boots and brace back on; snapping the bothersome increment into place before climbing to my feet. My erection had pretty much shrunk away to nothing, which would be a welcome relief to everyone else in Goodneighbor I’m sure. I went about the room, keeping the windows open but drawing the shutters into place in an effort to keep the sun out as much as possible. The dark might help Eve nod off to sleep that little bit easier.

I looked at her as the light blotted out across each section of the room, remembering Archie’s words not two months earlier. The feeling of having found that missing piece of the puzzle at long last; the sun streaming in through that corner window, which illuminated everything in any otherwise perfectly pieced together picture.

I felt it now; the fragments of my once shattered world falling back into alignment and bringing with them, that one miniscule sliver I had never realized had been absent in the first place. That light which cast the entirety of the picture into a perspective I had never before known, so that I could never again look at it in quite the same way.

This is what it meant to be in love. This was what it meant to win someone’s love in return. I felt myself a damn fool for all the years I had lived thinking I was above such feelings, simply because I’d never met the one person who could evoke them in me. My God, to think some people went their entire lives having never felt this way; this absolute, unequivocal feeling of blistering, aching, wonderful, terrible love.

It didn’t matter in the end that I had been displaced from her temporarily. What mattered is that for the first time in all the time  I had loved her, _she_ loved me back. And this was a hell of thing for a worn out slutty old Ghoul like me.

Even Dogmeat, whose teeth sunk deep into my ass as I walked out the door, couldn’t shake me out of this happy, perfect delirium. Though he sure as hell gave it a good try.

 

**~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking it out with me everyone! Especially after I made you all wait so long for an update! You are all kinder than I deserve. 
> 
> If you enjoyed please feel free to comment, kudos, perform a commemorative dance for your family. All of these are acceptable options. Just promise to send me a video of the commemorative dance if you do so choose to go down this avenue. Feathers and maracas are most definitely encouraged.
> 
> Now I must return to acquiring as many mods as the PS4 allows for me to download to enhance my Fallout 4 experience. There is a part of me that would love to bribe someone into actually creating the Wanderer's Respite as a sort of Mod Quest. Doesn't getting drunk with naked Hancock sound like the most wonderful time to anyone else? It's times like this that I wish I was talented, so I could simply create the mod myself. For my own sad enjoyment.
> 
> Take care my darlings and with much bated breath, I hope to be able to have the new chapter out to you in much shorter order than this set of twins it took me two months to push out. Good God, I need a mental episiotomy after this one!
> 
> Love always  
> ~MadamMortis~ xxx ooo


	11. The Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man was glaring at me from all of two inches away. A large, square jawed, hulk of a man; his hangdog jowls quivering with what anger he had bothered to repress in his spontaneous attack on me. His off white shirt stretched tight over thick muscles slowly devolving to equal deposits of fat and his dense black hair was styled into something of a lazy pompadour. He smelt of stale sweat and fresh bourbon. His cheeks flushed plump with two perfect cherry red dimples and lurid blue veins branched across his twitching forehead like pulsating strikes of lightening...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fallout 4. Nor am I in any way affiliated with Bethesda or any video game companies or… anything of any importance actually. I’ve only just figured out how to mod Fallout 4 on the PC and make the camera free floating. You see? That’s just how inept I am. Who would believe me if I tried to convince anyone that I owned and or created a video game? I can barely make my characters boobs look realistic! 
> 
> A/N: Hello again my beautiful darlings! My God, it has been far too long! I realize that I do seem to spend all of my introductions apologizing but I would never want any of my lovely readers to ever think that I’ve simply forgotten about this story or about any of you who take the time out of your day to have a read of it. 
> 
> All I can say in my defence is that it has been a very crazy last few months. I’ve been writing the entire time but I genuinely have not been afforded a great deal of time to simply sit down and devote proper attention to the story. I work full-time for one and work itself has been a hotbed of drama and drugs and danger these past few weeks. On another matter, this chapter was particularly difficult to write– though I’m sure you wouldn’t think so to read it! (It’s a touch shorter than the others, actually). It’ll be clear by the end why I found this one so gruelling. Not to mention, as usual, I’ve had to split the bloody thing in half. All my chapters these days are Siamese twins; requiring me to make a delicate, if not dangerous and messy divide directly down the middle. I’ll probably take a day or two after I post this one, just to catch up on some sleep so that my brain is clear enough to tackle the remainder. There’s quite a bit of content already written but I was tired of not having gotten anything out to you wonderful patient folks, so I made the decision to post and simply delay the second half for a bit.
> 
> I’ll put some trigger warnings in place for this chapter; particularly towards the end. Some pretty heavy non-consensual stuff down that way. And of course the usual swearing, sexual references, more showering and female ablutions. Please let me know if you guys are all okay after reading; I’d hate to think that I’d set anything off. Especially with the references to female ablutions.
> 
> And thanks everyone as usual for your kind words; for reading, kudo-ing and commenting! Always makes my day when people take the time to show their appreciation! You’re a fantastic bunch so big love and hugs to you all!  
> Now, by all means, please feel free to embark on into the main chapter content! As usual, I shall see you on the other side!

 

>   _“The best way of keeping a secret is to pretend there isn't one.” ~ **Margaret Atwood: The Blind Assassin.**  _

 

**Evelyn Hallows**

_**Goodneighbor - Current Day...** _

**~**

After John had left, I slept like the dead. Well, if one was to care enough to split hairs, I suppose it would be more accurate to say that I passed out.

I was accustomed to physical exhaustion these days; this wasn’t exactly a world where one was entitled to a full nights rest. Not to mention how hyper vigilant I had become in my search for Shaun. Guilt often played a major part in my trepidation towards closing my eyes and laying still for hours on end. I kept waking myself; thinking of things that I could, or _should_ have been doing. More productive uses for my time, even when sleep itself was of the utmost importance so that I had the fuel to burn.

But this, for once, was a peaceful sleep. Deep and ever so desperately needed. The heat and the alcohol had done a fine job in sedating me, to say nothing of how relaxed I was from the passionate exchange between Hancock and myself. Being worn out in a positive way had become something of a foreign experience to me in recent times.

I didn’t dream but reposed instead within a comforting roll of darkness; as soft and reassuring as the pillow on which I rested my head. So deeply interred was I, that I’m quite certain I would have slept right on through into the night if not for the alarm. It took a while for me to rouse myself enough to reach over and try to tug the Pip-Boy towards me but someone beat me to it; jabbing at a couple of the buttons in a determined effort to shut the device up.

My eyes were still blurry from sleep and it took a few moments for them to adjust enough to see who was standing beside the bed. Thank goodness it turned out to be no one more exciting than John Hancock himself; as mean as I’m sure you think that sounds. But given that I had at some point kicked off the doona (as I knew I would, given the heat) and it lay bunched up at the base of the bed like a petulant larvae; I’d sooner not have some random stranger wander up on me in my near naked and immodestly sprawled state.

“Thanks…” I mumbled, running my hand drowsily across my forehead and soothing my unruly bangs away from my eyes. I smiled up at John as I sank my face wearily back into the warm plump of the pillow. “When did you get back?”

The corner of his mouth curled up humorously, though I could see his eyes dart and flicker along the line of my body. I’d been laying on my stomach, as I’m prone to doing when I’m sleeping, so it was only my bare back and legs that he was getting a glimpse of. I still had my panties on and they felt to be sitting in the proper place as far as I could tell. It did occur to me however that this was the most naked I had ever been in front of the man; despite our long year of eclectic adventuring together.

I didn’t mind him looking. His was a gaze I trusted. It was a hell of thing; to feel so receptive and yet so comfortable beneath a man’s’ heated stare. Though I didn’t much feel like inviting him back into the bed right then and there; I was still too sleepy and hot and bothered to boot. But it was nice all the same to enjoy his attentions.

“I snuck back in just a few minutes ago.” He said, the other side of his mouth curling up as he appropriated my water tin from the bedside table. He took a small sip himself before offering it to me. “Was trying to be all silent and sneaky like but then your alarm had to go and give me away.”

“I see. And for what reason were you attempting to be so silent and sneaky like?” I parroted back, easing myself up onto my lower arms before reaching out to take the tin from him. I knew that the movement had exposed my right breast and it actually felt good to remove it from the hot clammy fitted sheet upon which it had rested. Hancock sure as shit appreciated it as well and I saw his eyes drop to take it in.

“Hey, don’t say it like I was trying to sneak in and take pictures of you spreadeagled on the bed or somethin’.” He said, the scars about his face cinching up as I made a point of tugging the pillow down from under my chin so that it provided some cover for my breasts. I didn’t mind him stealing a peek here and there but I wanted to preserve at least a _little_ of the mystery. “I was just coming in to grab some stuff for our date tonight. I was _tryin’_ to be considerate and not wake ya.”

“Well thankyou my lover but it looks like I was destined to be getting up now anyways.” I murmured, tilting my head as much as possible so that I could take a sip from the water tin. It had warmed from the heat of the room but the soothing liquid still took the edge off of the sharp splinters that had formed in my throat. Too bad it couldn’t do anything for the dehydration headache that was starting to lay siege to my brain. “So, what was the big emergency that got you called away?”

Hancock gave an infuriated snort as he glared off to the side; clearly not in a very forgiving mood over our earlier interruption. “Turns out the ‘so called’ emergency was a mass _duck_ outbreak. Traders from up Montreal way brought a whole heap of the little quackers into town and none of ‘em have got their wings clipped _apparently_. Took off all over the fucking place.”

I sat up near vertical in the bed, forgetting about my earlier concerns in concealing myself. “What, really? You have _ducks_ in this time? I’ve never seen one!”

He chuckled at my enthusiasm. “Don’t have ‘em down this way, sorry Munch. Apparently they got ‘em in abundance up North. The idea is to start breeding them in the Commonwealth as part of the meat and egg trade.” He made a show of fluffing out the lapels of his shirt pompously. “Goodneighbor exclusive, of course.”

I sighed contentedly as I rested my head back down towards the bed; curling about the pillow on which my chest rested. “Oh… I _love_ ducks. They are, without a doubt, the _cutest_ little things. The way their little bums wiggle when they waddle...”

Hancock’s eyes looked all the brighter and he pinched his lips together in a way that made me think he was holding back some very self-satisfied laughter. Finally, he said; “You know, I had this little female following me around the town earlier today. The way it walked…” He chuckled again, though looked slightly wary of the pleasure he was taking in his statement. “- reminded me of being out with you again in the Wasteland.”

I might have taken offense but I immediately imagined how a little duck waddled along with its butt swishing from side to side and compared it to how I myself walked. The image was so perfect, I immediately joined Hancock in his laughter.

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment, seeing how cute the little bastards are.” I said, smirking at him as I carefully took another sip of water from the tin. A thought came to mind and I gave him an inquisitive look. “Oh, do any of them have babies? Did the traders bring any ducklings down? Oh my god, I think I’ll die of happiness if I can see any actual cute little fluffy duckling! … Unless of course they’ve ended up like everything else in the Wasteland. All oozing sores and featherless and… two headed.”

Hancock laughed and shook his own head. “Surprisingly they’re in pretty good nick. Lots of fluffy feathers and _far_ too much attitude, if you ask me.” He perched himself down on the bed beside me and brushed the backs of his fingers over my cheek. “Tell ya what; I’ll take ya down to the livestock pens before we have dinner tonight and you can have a good old look yourself. See if we can’t find some of the wee baby quackers for you to have a cuddle with.”

I sighed with sincere happiness and nuzzled my face into the touch of his fingers. They felt so hot from the weather outside and perhaps a little drier than I had expected. He’d been so sweaty before when… I turned to hide my blush behind my arm, as the memories of what we had done come rushing back all in one great, fiery clump.

“So, um… did you manage to get them all back into their pens?” I asked quickly, trying to distract myself before I got too deeply entrenched in the memories. Hancock chuckled as his fingers trailed away from my face, grazing lightly over my shoulder and down into the crease of my spine.

“Think so. I didn’t exactly stick around for roll call. Might have been the slightest bit pissed off to get called away for an ‘escaped mallard emergency’.” He flashed a somewhat indulgent looking smile. “Took everything I had not to just come pelting back here and throw myself into bed. Figured I’d use the time and get some other shit done I’ve been meaning to get around to. Funnily enough, it’s easier to concentrate now that I know where to find you.”

I smiled, thinking it very sweet but also beautifully typical, so far as an older male was concerned. In my experience, men were far needier than women and though Hancock was a highly independent being, he was no different when it came to love. Because a man in love is very content to go about his own business, so long as he had the reassurance of his woman (or partner) somewhere there in the background. Kind of like an… emotional basecamp or something, I don’t know. Nate was no different. He would orient about as wide as a planet might travel from the sun but drawn inadvertently back in by the magnetism of its core.

It was disarming to see that Hancock wasn’t so much different in this sense. Though we had only become… sort of ‘official’ in the past few hours, he had clearly grown accustomed to my presence during our travels and was reassured in just being able to ‘touch base’, it seemed. I thought it was very cute.

Not that I myself was remiss of the occasional burst of neediness. I had gotten used to his companionship as well; the feel of him beside me as I slept, the press of his shoulder to mine as we sat side by side outside of the tent, chatting and staring up at the sky. And even just… the imperceptible, grazing presence of him standing close by; walking behind my shoulder or off to the side somewhere. Not touching but still close enough to be aware of the others warmth, breath and movement. To be suddenly struck of that was not unlike, I can only imagine, having one of your limbs amputated whilst unconscious and void of pain. You didn’t feel the precise trauma of having lost the limb but you still felt an irrepressible and unshakeable sense of loss that could hardly be explained away or replaced. This was how it felt when John had remained behind in Goodneighbor and I had gone about my way.

I reached over, draping my hand over the curve of his thigh and giving it a good rub and squeeze. There was nothing sexual in the touch, at least not from my point of view but he gave a soft murmur of approval all the same. It would be like this for a while; at least until we slept together for the first time. He was still getting used to the fact that I was receptive to him now. But of course, I desired much more from him than sex alone.

“Can I have a cuddle?” I asked softly, my smile wending up in response to the softening of his expression.

“Sure.” He said, the corner of his mouth crooking into that familiar teasing curl. “Sit up then.”

I gave his thigh a smack with the palm of my hand. “Like hell, pervert. Lay down here and I’ll curl up with you.”

He hefted a big laborious sigh, as though I were demanding the world from him and pivoted about on his bottom before using his hands to boost himself over my hip and onto my far side. I chuckled at the comical little movement, before twisting about to face him on the bed. He set his back and shoulders to the headboard and stretched his arm out towards me; gesturing upward with his head.

“Come on then, spoilsport.” He said and I laughed as I wriggled over and pressed tight to his side, wrapping my arm about his waist and pressing my face into the side of his chest. He felt as familiar to me now as Nate had once done and I had spent a lot longer cuddled up to Nate than I had Hancock. The feeling of comfort was however, entirely the same.

“God I’ve missed this… having your arms around me.” I murmured, closing my eyes as I took in the scent and the warmth of his embrace. I felt the comforting press of his arm about my shoulders and the peck of his lips to the crown of my head. “You’re a very good cuddler, you know.”

He chuckled tenderly; his fingertips tracing over the line of my arm. “I know. I practiced on all the Neighborhood watch boys while you were away. Think I went into some sort of crazy ‘hugging withdrawal’. You shoulda seen how Pattie struggled.”

I laughed into the wall of his shirt. “I think the boy doth protest too much.”

“I think so too. Meyer was very good at it. Meaghan wasn’t happy when she found us snuggled up in bed together though.”

This just made me laugh all the harder. “Oh my god! You know, I can actually just see that in my head! You curled up around Meyer having like ‘hugging withdrawal’ and him just kind of putting up with it with that deadpan face of his.” I angled my own face up towards Hancock, slumping my expression into what I felt might most adequately match Meyer’s natural appearance. Given how he laughed in response, I think I might have been right on the mark. “In any event, I guess the boys can just go ahead and rest easy for a while. I’ll take as many hugs as are being given out.”

“Oh, I know you’re a big old cuddle slut.” Hancock said, laughing as he brought his other arm around me and pulled me all the tighter into his side. He hefted another weary sounding sigh and I glanced up to see him dropping his hat down over his eyes; what he often did in the past when he was taking a snooze out in the Wasteland. “Shit… all I’m wantin’ now is to stay here and have a nice old nap with you. Haven’t had me afternoon one yet. No wonder I’m so bloody grumpy.”

“Well, you _are_ an old man. Old men need their naps.” I teased, flashing him a smile as one eye stared reproachfully at me from under his hat. “Why don’t you then? I’ll set the alarm for another hour or so. There’s no time table for our date, right? If you need a nap, just take one.”

He let out a low ‘whoosh’ of air and groaned up towards the ceiling; his bad leg flexing out towards where the doona was all curled up at the end of the bed. “It’s just… ah, damn. Had this idea I’d catch ya later for the date with the two of us lookin’ sharp and sexy… And instead, I come back and take a big drooling nap on ya? Seems a bit anticlimactic, doesn’t it?”

I delivered a stout smack to his chest. “Oh, fucking bullswool, John. We’re not teenagers, for god’s sake. And it’s not like we haven’t napped and drooled on one another before now.” It was quite true. The others all made fun of us for it, in fact. If we made it to a settlement and it was okay to relax for a while, Hancock and I could usually be found lazing on a sofa or in neighbouring chairs and bedrolls just snoozing away the afternoon. I thought it to be a perfectly lovely thing, actually. Being able to just sleep so soundly with someone; to trust them so implicitly and be at peace with them. Being intimate shouldn’t change that in the least.

I pushed myself up a little so I could kiss his lips; feeling that hot little flush in my cheeks still alight there as I did. His fingers rose to cup my jawline and my bones went to water at the touch; such as they had done every time he had touched my face. For a man who had supposedly never been in love, it was the most loving and protective gesture. To tenderly cup a woman’s face whilst kissing her. Not with a possessive pressure but with a purely sweet and affectionate caress. Jesus… I had never felt especially romantic in my life but it occurred to me that everything John and I had shared in our time together was just that; wonderfully, perfectly romantic.

“Don’t even start revving up that motor.” I warned him, having felt the deep, purring vibration from his throat that I was starting to associate with arousal. As tired as he was, I could see he was prepared to make an exception if it meant I might roll on over and let him have at me. I chuckled gently as I flicked the upper most ridge of his nasal cavity. “Come on, now. I know you want to… I do too. But we’ve got all tonight. After so long… wouldn’t you just like to make it the most absolutely perfect thing?”

“No.” He said, so bluntly that it immediately caused me to shove my face down into his chest to bury my laughter. When I finally resurfaced, I saw, thank goodness that he too was smiling. “Sex with you _is,_ by definition, an absolutely perfect thing, I’m certain. The circumstances are largely irrelevant.”

“Given that I’m consenting, of course.” I said, dropping my mouth in an affront of shock. He smiled as he leaned down to press a kiss to my nose.

“After what you did to me earlier? I’m thinking ‘consent’ is fairly much implied.” He purred, hefting out a chuckle as I immediately buried my face against the side of his body; my cheeks flushing hotter than the sun outside. “Hey, don’t go getting all embarrassed about it, Munch. Sure as shit lived up to your ‘hose and golf ball’ story. And gave some extra meaning to your nickname to boot.”

“Hey, you cut that out now, or you’ll be lucky to ever get it again.” I said, pulling the same old wife trick I’d perfected over several years of marriage. Hancock quirked one of his brows at me ironically, seeming to read my thoughts for what they were and he got another stout smack to his chest for his efforts. “Just behave yourself, you lecherous old man. You wanna have a nap, stay and have a nap. You’ll have time later for date prep, yeah?”

“Plenty of time.” He said, stretching and flexing out across the bedsheets with a weariness that made me feel for him. He definitely seemed tired and I wondered if it was because he hadn’t been indulging in entirely healthy habits since I’d left town. “Yeah Munch… I might get ya to set the alarm for an hour or so… Get a kip in now might help keep me on point for tonight.”

“Won’t be much use if it doesn’t come to a point.” I teased, poking the tip of my tongue out at him as he flashed me a not quite so amused look. To make up for it, I rolled over onto my back away from him and towards the bedside table, allowing my breasts to be bared for his inspection momentarily. It felt wonderful to get them away from the heat of the bottom sheet and it was quite honestly so hot that if I wasn’t concerned with riling John up, I might have just stayed there on my back for a while to air them out.

I think that one little glimpse might have been more than enough because I heard him groan in a sort of agonizing fashion as I punched in the alarm for another hour. I felt his fingers slide down my spine, similar to how he had all but raked at my arms when I’d been distracted from sucking him off earlier.

“You are _so_ not helping me behave myself when you do shit like _that_ , missy.” He moaned and I glanced over my shoulder to see his face angled towards the ceiling with both eyes pinched shut. He rubbed the bridge of his nasal cavity as though fighting off a headache. “Damn I want you _so bad_ right now…”

It impressed me to see him behaving in such a gentlemanly fashion; actually taking stock of my requests and not simply acting a childish brat and draping himself all on me in a puerile attempt to change my mind. He was being honest and I didn’t mind him being so in the least. It was… novel for someone like me to feel desired. To see a man pretty much ache in anticipation for wanting to make love with me. And for me to feel just the same way… you know, if I wasn’t much more interested in having another nap that is. Sleep is pretty important for us post baby mama’s, after all.

“Thankyou, darling.” I murmured, rolling back towards him and curling under his arm once more. I pressed my lips against his cheek; feeling the ridges and indents of his scars. My heart thumped gently with my love for him; my equal yearning desire for there to be something more substantial to our exchanges. “And I want _you._ But there’s no rush, you understand? Not anymore. You have me. I’m _yours._ And I’m not going anywhere.”

He gave me what I took to be a very vulnerable look; his brows caved in towards his eyes. From this distance, I could see the outline of his pupils and iris and it always gave me a little shock; to know that his eyes hadn’t simply been obliterated by the black color that now stole over them. They were still there; camouflaged by a dark cloak.

“So have a nap.” I said, pressing my fingers to his cheek and giving him a short, sharp kiss. Hopefully reassuring. “And tonight… tonight you can do every little thing with me that you’ve been wanting to do.”

He chuckled at this and pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose. “Not enough hours in the night, Munch. But I’ll sure as hell be taking a good crack at it.” He grunted a little as he sat up, reaching over his shoulders to scrunch as much of his shirt as possible. Instead of unbuttoning it, he slowly dragged it over his head, forcing me to tug his hat out of the way so that it didn’t get caught in the process. He sighed, peeling his arms out of the sleeves before tossing the shirt down onto the floor. Seems he wasn’t worried about my seeing him topless now. I made a little point of spinning my fist in a lazy circle, as though cheering on the efforts of a stripper.

“Hey… calm yourself, eh?” He said, smirking as he took his hat and hung it from the bedpost. I pushed my own pillow across so that he could rest on it, using his bare, balmy chest for my support instead. I liked the feel of his flesh against my cheek; the reassuring rise and fall of his ribcage as he took his breaths in. More than that, I liked the feel of our bare torsos pressed together. Even in this heat, he felt cool to me.

Hancock slung his right arm up behind his head, turned briefly to peck me on the forehead before resting back and shutting his eyes. I watched him settle before relaxing entirely myself. I knew he would fall asleep before me; he was a dab hand at this and I usually had so much trouble nodding off as was. Sure enough, not two minutes later I heard his breaths even out and occasionally pitch into a soft familiar little snort on the intake. Hancock didn’t snore the way that I did; reportedly like a cat being molested by a bagpipe but he did breathe deeply when he was unconscious and gave brief, tiny snorts here and there, especially when he was extremely tired.

It took a few minutes longer but I did eventually drift back to sleep; my cheek and hand pressed to the wall of Hancock’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his lungs soothe me like the rocking of a cradle. I think there were dreams this time, though damned if I can remember a thing about them. What I do remember is being briefly awoken by the shifting of Hancock’s body beneath me and I was then aware of the pillows softness supporting my cheek once more. It did little to rouse me and I continued snoozing on, woken once more by the blaring, indignant screech of the Pip-Boy. Hancock was no longer in the bed, so it was _my_ responsibility now to roll over and turn the damned thing off.

There was a note pinned just underneath it on the bedside table, which I plucked up and held close so that my weary eyes could make it out.

It read:

_Heya Munch,_

_If you’re reading this note, it looks like I managed to slip on outta there without waking you up. Or I’ve been kidnapped and am currently being held for ransom. In the event of the latter; I have sufficient funds stored in my safety deposit box that should cover whatever cost my kidnappers are demanding. The combination can be found in a series of obscure clues hidden throughout Goodneighbor. They are written in a free flowing mixture of Old Aramaic, braille, roughly interpreted composites plucked from the Voynich Manuscript and fancifully rendered Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs._ (He had scribbled a little smiley face alongside, to show that he had only been kidding).

_Don’t worry, I’m not actually running out on you. (My former reputation for doing this notwithstanding!) Just had my fill of napping and thought I’d grab my shit together for our date tonight and get my ass back to the grindstone. A sexy mayors’ work is never done! You looked so peaceful lying there, I didn’t want to disturb you. Just rolled you over and took a couple pictures of your tits. Sure you won’t mind._

_Haven’t been able to stop thinking about what we got up to this afternoon. Man that was hot._ (Another smiley face). _I feel like the damn luckiest son of a bitch alive right now. Not sure why you’d want to be stuck with this ugly mug but hey, I ain’t complaining._

_See you here at six, darlin’. You can bet I’ll be counting the minutes._

_Love,_

_John._

I smiled when I saw how he had signed the note with his first name. He _never_ referred to himself as ‘John’, though he had obviously done so in this instance for my benefit. His spelling and handwriting were also very good; he adopted a cursive style that put me in mind of the original John Hancock and his flowey, artistic signature. Things like being able to read and write in the Commonwealth were skills that should quite obviously should never have been taken for granted; regardless of how customary I myself considered it to be.

I found the pen where John had left it and turned the piece of paper over so that I could scrawl my own return note on the back.

 _Hey Sexy Mayor,_ (Smiley face)

_Thanks for letting me catch up on my beauty sleep. No probs about the tit shots but I do ask that you use them for personal masturbatory purposes only. If I see copies of them being handed out around Goodneighbor, there’ll be trouble!_

_I had a great time this afternoon too. My headache tells me so! Can’t wait for tonight to roll around so I can see what else you’re made of._ (Winky face)

_So good to be home with you. I missed you so much while we were apart and I’m so excited to see what the future has in store for us now!_

_Love and kisses,_

_Robert Joseph MacCready ~ xxx ooo ~_

_(Ha, kidding! You know who it is!)_

_P.S Thanks for the tip off about the safety deposit combo. I have deciphered the clues and helped myself to a sizeable chunk of your fortune. Hello New Vegas!_

I chuckled to myself as I placed the letter back on the bedside table. I wanted to leave a nice big lipstick print beside MacCready’s name but I didn’t have a tube on hand and I really couldn’t be fucked going to the effort of scrounging in my bag for one. Ah well.

I rolled over onto my back, praying the whole while that John had locked the door behind him when he left. Last thing I needed was one of his constituents to come wandering in, as his sign indicated they sometimes did. Or god forbid, one of the Neighborhood Watch fellas.

I felt my face flush bright red as the memories come rushing back to me. Everything we did. Everything _I_ did. And the fact that the guys outside _heard_ the two of us. Well, heard _Hancock_ I should say. Man clearly didn’t care about being quiet. But then, could I really have expected him to be given what I was doing to him?

God in Heaven, I’d _never_ heard a man react the way that he had done. Must have been a hell of a long time since anyone had gone down on him. I mean, he’d actually sort of _cried_ which wasn’t something I ever expected to see from Hancock.

I was surprised with myself as well. I hadn’t been planning on doing _any_ of that to him. At best, I thought we might make out a bit and have a snuggle but instead… _whoa._ I don’t know what came over me. The combination of factors present for sure but I think for the most part I was simply overwhelmed with everything he had told me. Everything that had passed between us.

I hadn’t even been expecting that I would tell him I loved him. I hadn’t been entirely convinced myself when coming into town but after seeing him again, _kissing_ him and hearing everything that he had planned, felt and desired… I felt entirely cemented in my feelings for him. And it felt ever so stupid to try and pretend like I didn’t in fact love him, when it was quite patently obvious that I did.

So love, sure. But I had _jumped_ on the guy. Stripped his shirt off, kissed him down, _sucked_ him down. I didn’t even _like_ giving head for fucks sake but I’d gone ahead and practically gobbled him up without a second thought. Christ, what a fucking tart I was turning into.

I’d never before been so overwhelmed with such intense feelings for someone. Even Nate, who I had loved enough to share a life and a child with had failed to evoke such passion in me. When Hancock spoke so emotionally of missing the sensation of touch – _simple_ human touch! – it had dumbfounded me. I felt as though my heart was breaking. I couldn’t bear the thought of a person I loved so much feeling this way; being segregated from this god given tender sensation simply because of the peculiarities of his condition.

Every inch of his flesh that I had kissed and taken over my lips had been cherished as a pure act of love towards him. I wanted to take away his pain; the deeper pain, which ran much further than those irritable healing welts still scoured across his flesh.

I felt the intense weight of all our hundreds of days spent in the company of one another; those repressed and denied little wants and desires, all funnelling down to the point of our unification. It might have amused me to see any man so reportedly ‘head over heels for me’, if I wasn’t so utterly swept away by it all.

I never imagined that he could love me so fiercely. Not that I wasn’t aware of the presence of ‘some’ manner of feeling toward me but I had simply assumed that it was genuine friendship fettered by an undercurrent of lust. A lust that only prevailed in the absence of reciprocation. A part of me still continued to wonder whether Hancock’s feelings might have been entirely dependent on this factor alone and whether his ardour would cool off and altogether diminish once we had gone all the way.

I fetched my water off of the bedside table, continuing to turn my thoughts over in my mind as I sipped some of the lukewarm liquid into my mouth. Somehow, I couldn’t imagine that Hancock’s feelings for me would disappear in conjunction to our sleeping together. He was far from stupid, even whence taking the pure paralysing nature of infatuation into account and he wasn’t the type of individual who would readily put his weakness on the line. Not unless it was something that he truly genuinely believed in.

He was the mayor and figurehead of a tough and violent town. There were a lot of folks out there who wanted him dead or who viewed him as a target for the purposes of extortion. His life was constantly under threat and duress. A moment of weakness was to him a flash in an otherwise heavily fortified suit of armour, which he couldn’t afford to leave unattended. He would not show belly readily. Nor would he invite someone into his life to the detriment of their own safety and wellbeing.

He _had_ to have been certain of his feelings. So certain that he was willing to risk _everything._ Not just his own safety but that of his beloved town and the people dwelling within it. Most of whom would be lost without him at the helm as a point of strength and reassurance.

And to go further than this still and actually adopt such monumental _changes_ to his life. When I’d first met Hancock, he’d been such a laidback and carefree guy. As smart and tough as he’d always been but sort of… contentedly disconnected from everything. Warm and approachable mind you but never at the mercy of anyone else when it came to his heart. He seemed to keep this cossetted up very securely inside, far out of reach. It took quite a long time before he started letting me witness these tiny stirrings of insecurities; for him to start taking the walls down enough so that I could see the vulnerable inner core of his being.

It seemed as though knowing me, had changed his perspective on life as a whole. He certainly wasn’t taking as many Chems as he used to, though I knew full well that he was never likely to quit entirely. Not that I would have expected it of him, given my pronounced issues with alcohol. The variance in the whys and how of his Chem use was what stood out to me above all else. He used them to relax and enjoy himself true; but I don’t think he was using them to escape from bad feelings anymore. Nor to hide from the harsh realities of the world.

It was also the way that he conducted himself as a person now. He had a certain… maturity of character that hadn’t quite been present when we first met. Not to mention the town. How it was morphing from a place where people could escape to in order to be free from oppression and to an extent, responsibilities; now he was transforming it into a place where people could actually _settle._ No longer was it doomed to be a town of transients.

It was a reflection of the changes that were occurring within his own soul. Because _he_ wanted to settle down, it seemed. He didn’t speak about us being together in the short term but had given intense serious thought to how we might instead build a life together. He had gone and taken _Shaun_ into consideration. He wanted to be a father to him, to be a father in general it seemed. Because he had met the person with whom he felt he was meant to be with and his entire world perception had changed on account of it.

I knew he wouldn’t try to play me for a fool. He was a good man, an honest man. Everything he had said to me was how he truly, genuinely felt at this time. The emotions might have been exacerbated; given the circumstances of our time together but I do believe that all of them were one hundred percent true. I believe that he _did_ love me. And I knew beyond a sliver a doubt now, that I loved _him_ just as deeply.

Not to mention that _passion._ My God in Heaven… It seemed _absurd_ to me that a man could look at me with such desire; could _want_ me so badly that his body trembled with it. I didn’t see myself as a desirable figure at all but from the way that Hancock had looked at me; kissed me and put his hands on me, it was clear he had an entirely separate impression of my worth.

But that’s pound for pound precisely how love works. You place great emphasis on your appreciation of one another; your adoration for each and every tiny component that makes up the entirety of their being. I personally could not have desired Hancock more had he been smooth skinned, built like a tank with flowing locks that would send Grognak the Barbarian into an envious rage.

So in spite of the fact that it absolutely addled me, I could just manage to get my head around it. Perhaps if I was able to like myself more as an individual, I could perceive it with greater ease of acceptance. But I liked the me that I was when I was with Hancock. And that was good enough.

I staggered getting up for that little while longer; sipping at my water and waiting futilely for my headache to ebb. Too much to drink on top of too much dehydration. You’d think a practiced old soak like me would know better than to go and give myself an afternoon hangover. _This is rookie stuff_ ; I scolded myself. _Come one girl, you’re better than this._

Apart from my headache, I was feeling pretty darn swell. I’d had the most beautiful sleep on account of Hancock’s new and improved bed. It was such a novelty to be able to stretch myself out like a whorish starfish; legs and arms splayed every which way. The mattresses were so _soft_ and springy. And the linen smelt clean, stretched tight and comfortably across the bed with no annoying bunches conducing heat between the wrinkles.

The pillow was plump and pert and by giving it a squeeze, I could tell that it was filled with some sort of foam. Feathers seemed to be in short supply in this world, which was kind of a relief because the process for acquiring them was known to be cruel in my time. I turned my nose towards the pillow cover and took a whiff. I got a hint of cologne when I breathed in deep enough. From where Hancock had been resting his head earlier no doubt. I closed my eyes, smiling to myself as that little flush of pleasure went through me and I took another deep breath in. Having been so long apart, I had forgotten just how much I loved his smell. As soon as I took it in, I felt safe and comforted by Hancock’s presence.

It wouldn’t be long until we saw each other again. We had our date tonight, after all. I chuckled to myself as I twisted back to rest against the pillow properly, bringing the tin of water back up to my lips. A date. Jesus, I’d all but forgotten how one of those things went. And could Hancock and I actually be trusted to take the nature of it seriously? We’d probably laugh ourselves silly if any of the stereotypes popped up. I immediately giggled at the thought of my opening the door to find Hancock waiting there with a big bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear. Trying the old ‘rocket ship manoeuvre’ while watching a movie in the old Drive In. He would have been just the type to have gone in for the old grope as well; not giving a shit about what was happening on the big screen.

No, knowing Hancock it would be as far from stereotypical as possible. A romantic moonlit walk through the Commons; shooting Raiders as they came flooding out of the Combat Zone, followed by as scrumptious dinner of whatever non-human beastie we managed to catch, rounded off with a lethal combination of Chems and cocktails; most likely mixed together and then injected between our toes. And then he’d want to fuck of course. No doubt somewhere we were likely to get caught and watched, like just inside the gates of Diamond City. Actually, probably the elevator leading up to McDonough’s office; adds an air of danger for that special type of kinky risk taker.

I had a little laugh to myself. None of this would have surprised me in the least. John was by far the least conventional person I knew, not to mention almost entirely fearless. But a part of me did hope that he would try to do something perhaps that little more special and sensitive, given that it was our first real date.

Most likely, our first _time_ as well. And much as I loved a laugh and an adventure, I wasn’t entirely sold on the idea of doing it on an elevator, in front of a motley of uncomfortable security guards or in the backseat of some junked car out somewhere in the Wasteland. Not for the first time at least. How could you even begin to concentrate on what you were doing when you were looking over yours (and his) shoulder every five minutes; waiting for a Super Mutant to barrel up and stave your heads in with a sledgehammer?

I checked the time on my Pipboy. 4:05pm. Hancock would be expecting me ready by six and I had a lot to do before then, so it was high time I got a wriggle on. I popped the Pipboy and water down on the bedside table and gave a big old stretch; feeling and hearing a number of joints pop along my body as I did. The air still felt so balmy in the room, even with the door propped open the way it was. Good thing there was no Paparazzi in this time; in my day, they would have scaled the balcony with a camera just to take pictures of the mayors new love interest, sprawled out near butt naked in his bed.

I smiled to myself as I slowly eased my legs over the side of the mattress and sat up, tilting my head from side to side to pop the joints in my neck. It felt… strange to be so completely exposed this way; in the Statehouse where Hancock and I had first starting to get to know one another. Why, it was just over by that door where he had offered to travel with me and assist with my search for Shaun. Back then I could never have imaged that over a year later I would be back in that room, lying half naked in the Ghoul mayors aesthetically made bed, having just made out with him like a hormonally disturbed sophomore student. The places that life takes you, huh?

I attempted to summon up some energy that I still didn’t really feel I had stacked in the reserve. My nap had really only helped me to break even. Should I run through my exercises? I really didn’t feel like it but I knew if I started letting them slip, I would only become more and more complacent and make more and more excuses to keep putting it off. Next thing you’d know, I’d be an overweight, lazy old bitch wondering why everyone else managed to outrun me when the Deathclaw’s came a-knocking.

I groaned as I heaved myself up out of the bed; stretching up on the tips of my toes and pushing my arms high into the air to straighten my spine. I felt very aware of my breasts; all bare and still a little shiny with sweat. To me they were nothing more than heavy, useless sacks of meat hanging from my chest and bearing down uncooperatively against the curve of my spine. Hancock on the other hand seemed to find them absolutely mouth-watering; not unlike most men when confronted with a big set of knockers. It made me like them a bit more; to experience _his_ enjoyment of them and to take pleasure from that in turn.

I reached up and cupped them in both hands, giving them a squeeze. I thought back to those few hours earlier; when it was Hancock’s palms and fingers rubbing and clutching instead and I felt a shudder of excitement go through me. Far from merely tolerating his touch, I was instead finding the little idiosyncrasies of his condition extraordinarily erotic. The furrows and cracks in his skin created a stimulation when they caught and snagged my nipples; something I had never before experienced with someone… well, human I guess. It had felt amazing; not to mention how truly complimentary he had been regarding my own appearance. He breathed soft admirations with the same assurances the Queen of the Nile might have been privy to in her hay day and gazed at my body with such wonder you would think he’d beheld the luscious curves of Cleopatra herself.

Closing my eyes, I remembered still the warm, encapsulating cradle of his lips; the way that his tongue and mouth worked across me with such breathless hunger. He’d made that familiar throaty sound in the back of his throat; that contented, contemplative murmur whilst he’d licked and sucked at my breasts. He certainly didn’t lack skill with his mouth and I felt the slightest bit disappointed to think that I hadn’t been able to feel those masterful ministrations elsewhere.

I imagined him then, walking back into the room and seeing me standing half-naked by the bed with my hands kneading my own tits. How his eyes would awn wider to witness me in such a heated state; his expression a clear palpitation of irrepressible hunger. I thought of him striding boldly towards me, grappling me around the knees and hoisting them up so that my back slammed hard to the mattress. Grabbing my panties by the hemline above my ass and dragging them up my elevated legs; my calves pressed tight to the broad lines of his shoulder. How he would part my ankles; caress my inside thighs with those talented hands of his before dropping those equally adept lips down to lick and devour me. I squirmed, feeling a tight ache of arousal and spread my thighs apart a little; wishing he was there between them now.

A nice fantasy, sure enough and one that he was quite obviously prepared to make a reality at the first available opportunity. But at the same time, I thought it might have been a very good thing that he had never had the opportunity to go down on me earlier. Not having showered properly for a few days, I wasn’t feeling especially hygienic; in spite of the effort I’d gone to in giving myself a decent old scrub with a face washer. And I hadn’t shaved in some time either. I think I had more hair downstairs than most Wasteland creatures had on their entire bodies. No, I think that if Hancock had made a go for such a thing, I might have been far too self-conscious to permit him the liberty at this time.

Though I hadn’t been the only one to have been left aching and disappointed. I felt my cheeks flush red at the memory and I opened my eyes, shaking my head in mirth. The things that you feel inclined to do when you’re all worked up and tipsy to boot. To think I had it in me to be so… audacious. To be so overwhelmed in my love and lust for this man, that I actually truly _desired_ to give him this pleasure. To assure him beyond doubt that he needn’t ever concern himself with erroneous assumptions as to my perceptions of his body. I don’t know if that’s simply a pertinent male thing but it seems to me that women concerned themselves a lot less with the appearance of their partner than their partner actually realized. So far as I was concerned, I could feel great physical attraction for someone just as soon as I had grown to admire and love them. I loved and desired the body which was as intrinsically a part of them as their own voice and soul.

Hancock had seemed so concerned with how I would react to seeing his penis but it was quite honestly a pointless exercise in stress on his part. Much for muchness, it looked little different from the other penises I had seen in my life; none of which were winning a prize in a Beauty Pageant any time soon. (I mean, what are you going to do? Wrap a red ribbon around it? Paint candy stripes down the length? Rub glitter on it and call it a Unicorn Horn? It was still a _dick_ at the end of the day. And there wasn’t exactly a great deal you could do in regards to dressing the damned thing up regardless of whether you were a Ghoul or not!)

Hancock’s dick was, in fact, a great deal less scarred than the rest of his body; most likely because the skin had been stretched tight from his erection. I did notice he had no foreskin and I wondered if this was might have deteriorated in the same manner as the cartilage in his nose or whether circumcision was a common practice in the Commonwealth.

There were scars and indentations along the shaft, which gave the skin a similar appearance to the skin of his chest but it certainly didn’t disturb me the way that Hancock seemed to think that it would. The length gave me some pause for consideration but that was the only aspect with which I had any concerns.

He was _big._ Longer than Nate had been, though not quite as thick. Thick enough. He’d have no trouble filling me up _that’s_ for damn sure and I wondered whether I would be able to take him all in without feeling a bit of pain. I tried to imagine the feel of him pushing up inside of me; all long and hard and eager. How he’d groan as he stared down at me, thrusting and driving himself into the farthest reaches of my body; stirring up tendrils of long since undisturbed nerve endings. Making me squirm and writhe underneath the weight of his body; digging my nails into the taut muscles of his bottom so as to encourage him in deeper and harder…

I squirmed as the ache in my groin increased; a reminder of how long it had been since I’d had an orgasm. Or anything more substantial than just a tampon inside of me for that matter… if I was to ignore the brutal, unwanted intrusions of the hands that had made claim to my flesh in the Rolling Ranch. And then there was…

I routed the memory from my mind, bringing my thoughts back to John instead.

I knew from his earlier tender treatments that he would be as equally sensitive in helping prepare me for our first time together. With soft, gentle incursions of his tongue and fingers; to soothe and stretch and ease the process. In all these acts, he would take his time and make each a laborious and seductive gesture. That’s just the sort of man that he was. It wouldn’t hurt with him. Not the way it had with-

Push it back.

I’d wanted to vanquish the final, lingering traces of concern Hancock might have been nursing in regards to his appearance; so seemingly convinced that I would be repulsed by the state of his flesh. Going down on him had been entirely impulsive; although a part of me had been preserving the memory of Fahrenheit’s mocking words regarding my apparent ‘frigid’ nature. Which felt a bit childish of me to play into the need to disapprove that infantile teasing; the whole ‘look who’s frigid _now_ ’ mentality but it had truly just been that extra layer of garnishing over my most true and earnest desire to demonstrate to Hancock how much I loved him.

And I’d honestly found very little difference in the sensation. If anything, Hancock definitely smelt better down there but that was true of his overall physical hygiene; given his skin treatments and all. The taste of his flesh was a little odd; sort of soapy, which I think was a result of the aforementioned cleaning regime and there was the natural salty film from the sweat he had been exhuming during the day. From what I could tell through the small gap in his pants, was that he had no pubic hair either, which certainly made everything look a little cleaner and tidier. Overall, the act was a lot more pleasant than it had been for me in the past; which made me feel a little guilty on poor Nate’s account. Everything tends to be more exciting when you’re with someone for the first time however; especially given the amount of pent up passion that Hancock and I had for one another.

I think we had both been needing it for a long time and not in just the purely obvious sense of our longing and want to be with one another. But because of the… abuses we had suffered not so long past.

My fingers slid together against my breasts, to form protective cups that felt quite insufficient in protecting what had already been tarnished. I wrapped my arms around myself; flinching my eyes shut at the penetration of equally vulgar and unwanted memories that thrust back into the forefront of my mind without consent or gentility. Of other hands groping and squeezing at me; tearing my clothing away so that putrid, hateful lips could take the place of those lecherous fingers. And of another, earlier time; the dreadful tearing pain that seared inside of me… My hair tearing mercilessly from my scalp. The shame and disgust I had felt could not have been rivalled were they to have rubbed squirming fistfuls of maggots against me.

My body felt about as plundered as a rotting Brahmin corpse by the roadside; played over by the viscous probes and sucking mouths of the vermin and bugs that swarm upon its flesh. Most days and nights I was able to shelve the memory of these assaults and simply knuckle along with those things that needed doing but sometimes that murky muck managed to drift back to the surface and take precedence over my usual steady and stable constitution.

Hancock had known a lot of what I had endured at the hands of his own historical tormenters but I hadn’t wanted to wound him with the graphic details of my assault. The places I had felt the putrid slimy trails of their tongues, the invasive push and pinch of their fingers. Where they had left teeth marks, almost lost within the enormous tableau of black and purple bruises already adorning my flesh. When they had put the pliers to me…

John had near collapsed from devastation having learned perhaps the more abridged version I felt myself capable of telling at that time. But I know well and certain that he too had been hiding things from me; things that he too had endured which he only felt would break my heart for hearing. I doubted I would ever tell him the full, uncensored truth of what had occurred. Especially not what had occurred long before the Ranch and all its myriad of horrors came rolling into our lives. There were simply some memories that one must stagger alone. That, or risk losing the love and worse still, the respect of someone you thought so highly of.

This was the love we had; rather selfless when it came to the other and ultimately preoccupied in our mutual concern. I’d been frightened for some time; believing that were I ever to become intimate with him, that I couldn’t prevent myself from associating it with those… earlier assaults.

I was relieved to find that it hadn’t been like that _at all_ with John. Though the acts possessed some similarities to what had happened to me in the past; they were in turn _nothing_ at all alike. I had been a willing, consenting participant for one and for the other, John had treated me with nothing but tenderness and love.

I was actually surprised by how gentle he had been; even towards the end when his desires had clearly started to get the better of him. Not that John wasn’t capable of great kindness and compassion but when it came to sex, I thought he would have been a passionate, no-holds-bar Wildman. And perhaps he was; very likely, given the glowing recommendations I had received from some of the women I’d crossed paths with that had gone to bed with him. But the emotion that I had seen from him whilst we’d been fooling about together on the sofa; when he reached up, caressed my cheek and promised me that ‘no one would ever hurt me again’, made me realize just how aware he was of not only my abuse but my vulnerability.

I think that he had also been aware that it was not simply an easy thing for me to just… hop into the arms and bed of another man. Not after being with only the one man for seven years; my husband and the father of my child. I’d gotten accustomed to the love that I had experienced with Nate; which had always been satisfying but in a more… comforting and familiar manner.

I yawned as I wandered over to the dressing table that Hancock had installed at some point and knelt a little to stare at myself in the affixed mirror. God, I looked a fright. My hair sticking up all over the place like a startled porcupine, makeup all but rubbed into non-existence and eyes bleary still with fatigue.

I tilted the mirror slightly upward and took a step away; bringing my arms down to my sides so I could take a good look at myself. I suppose I didn’t scrub up too badly for a woman broaching her thirtieth… biological year. Thank God for my father’s genetics which gave me those high cheekbones; they kept everything in my face arched upward at least. Wish I could say the same for my breasts. Though Hancock hadn’t seemed to find anything left wanting in them. He hadn’t even seemed to mind my stomach, which was still more round and dimpled than I would like. Though I can’t imagine that I was the first mother Hancock had ever been with. Nor was he the judgmental type.

I was still in pretty good shape from the constant sprinting around the Commonwealth I’d had to do over the past year. My arms and legs were strong and lean and I had the deep curves of my waist, hips and spine that most men seemed to like. I was particularly pleased with how well my butt holding up. Given that it was such a hefty part of me, you would think it’d fall sway to the thrall of gravity before too long but good genetics and good exercise seemed to be keeping it in its place for now. It was certainly perkier than just about any other part of me.

I twisted in the mirror so as to get an idea as to how it might have looked from Hancock’s point of view and pulled a face at the sad state of the white panties I was wearing. The elastic had almost all but deteriorated in the band so that the material hung loose and saggy about my bottom. I tugged them up as much as I could but they still drooped with an appearance not uncanny to that of elephant skin.

I relented with a sigh. Looks like a visit to Meaghan might have been in order. New undies, bra and maybe if I was lucky, something clean and relatively pretty I could pop on for the date tonight. It would be nice to catch up with Meaghan as well; she was such an hysterical, sassy woman. And I knew she’d be dying for some firsthand info about what was going on between Hancock and I. Woman _loved_ a good gossip.

But first thing was first; my exercises. I turned from the mirror and made my way back over to the sofa; reaching down and picking up my singlet top from where I’d tossed it previously. It was still a little damp with sweat and I pulled an unhappy face as I peeled it down over my  upper torso; twisting and wrenching it from side to side to get it over my equally as clammy boobs. I didn’t bother putting my jeans back on; it would be easier to move about without the restrictive seams of the tight denim pressing in against me. And it wasn’t like I needed to leave the room to do what I needed to do.

I swayed my arms from side to side; giving them a few little stretches here and there before dropping myself down onto my stomach on the floor. I braced my lower arms against the firm wooden planks; raising my stomach, pelvis and thighs to an elevated position and pushing down with the pads beneath my toes. Planking was great for your core strength and I focused particularly on sucking my bellybutton in towards my spine; bringing most of my back into as near alignment as was possible with a shape like mine. I counted a full minute, feeling the shake of my body as the pressure started to mount through the muscles. When I felt I couldn’t hold it much longer, I relaxed down for the count of fifteen seconds before resuming the same pose; only stretching out my left arm and right leg. This put additional pressure on me to preserve my balance and really got the core working extra hard. I alternated in the following minute and then returned to a simple plank position. Then, I shifted my arms out and placed the palms of my hands to the floor, lowering myself until my chest just about touched. (They were always going to make contact before my nose, gosh darn it).

I usually shot for twenty-five full push ups but today I added a little extra challenge for myself and instilled a clap at the apex of each. This meant I had to quickly bring my arms in and slowly lower myself before my face slammed the floor and knocked all my teeth out and it certainly meant I wore myself out a lot faster. I only got through about nineteen before I felt compelled to rest. As punishment, I forced myself through three one handed push ups to each arm. I nearly toppled over because my core was still aching from my previous exertions.

Keeping my upper body strong was very important to me; perhaps the very thing I placed most emphasis on in regards to my physicality. Because of my strength, I’d been able to fight off a lot of attacks and fend off numerous assaults, simply because it wasn’t expected that a woman in this day and age would be so physically strong.

I’d always been built fairly sturdy but my father had been the one to really push the importance of working on my upper body strength. _‘I don’t care if you don’t think it looks pretty having muscles in your arms, Ciqala,_ ’ I remember him gruffing at me once, when I’d been complaining to him about all the exercises as a teenager. _‘You’ll be thanking me one day when some fucking brute thinks he can take from you that which he has no right to. And you turn the tables and beat the ever loving shit out of him. Wouldn’t you like to have the satisfaction of that?’_

I _did_ want to have the satisfaction of that. And over the years, even in the world that existed before this one, I’d _did_ have that satisfaction. It had also allowed me to take advantage of security jobs, to support myself through College whilst I’d been studying to be a lawyer. Men always just assumed that if push came to shove that they’d be able to take me and they often paid the price for their ignorance. I hadn’t the misfortune to meet a man that I couldn’t lay out. (There were of course those circumstances where I hadn’t been presented with the option but I digress). And I sure as shit wasn’t going to be letting my father down and getting lax, simply because I now found myself in a position to enjoy protection from an equally strong and dangerous man.

The sweat had started dripping off of me again and I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead as I rolled ungainly over onto my back. I took a few seconds to catch my breath before slinging my hands behind the crown of my head, crooking my knees up and lifting myself into a series of crunches. I counted upward to fifty; feeling my poor stomach flexing and gnawing beneath the pressure I was putting against it.

I used the coffee table to do a series of tricep dips; roughly equivalent to the number of sit ups I’d just completed. The sweat was pouring off of me by the time I’d finished and I’m certain I must have smelt absolutely _divine._ So far as Dogmeat’s perceptions went, I imagine. I wanted to do some chin ups but there really wasn’t anything in the room I could use, so I contented myself with some leg lifts and a series of squats; all the better to try and keep those thighs from getting too dimply and out of shape.

I put myself through some of the sets of strikes and blocks of Wing Chun; running the basics of each form first so that I didn’t allow myself to become complacent with it. _Guard the center, maintain your balance, fight on your opponents’ blind side, use their strength against them where possible, make no attempts to fight strength with strength…_ I practiced each of the more complex strikes in order, running through the names in my head as I did. _Bong-sao – The Wing arm. Great for controlling the opponents’ wrist once caught. The Guan-sao – The splitting block. To keep a strike from your midsection. Guam-Sao – Pinning hand. Block, deflecting and pinning an opponents’ arm. The Tok-Sau, or Lifting Hand. Used to lift an opponents’ elbow and obliterate their guard so that you could get under for a midsection strike…_

Once I had paced myself through each of the forms that I had previously trained in, I steadied my breathing and took myself through a _Muk Yan Jong_ training set _._ (The _Muk Yan Jong_ is a sort of wooden dummy with two protruding arms at the top of a column and sometimes occasionally situated about the base).

There were numerous sets associated with the _Muk Yan Jong_ but I only took myself through the two that I was most familiar with. Because I didn’t have an actual dummy to practice on, I delivered the strikes, blokes and kicks into the air; visualizing where the dummy might otherwise be situated and stepping about this space accordingly. I imagine it might have looked a little silly to anyone watching but you honestly get so in the zone when you’re going through these sets that it’s not dissimilar to entering a state of deep meditation.

The very last thing I did was sit myself down on the floor and stretch my legs out on either side into a ‘near-splits’. These weren’t splits like what you might see with a gymnast but your more martial arts style splits; almost in the style of an irksome toddler who throws themselves onto the floor with their legs wide open and dozen or so toys scattered between. I chuckled to myself as I leant over my right leg; bringing my forehead down to touch my knee whilst clutching my palms about my foot. Poor Hancock would probably lose his mind if he walked into the room now and saw me doing this in my underpants. Guys always seemed to get far too hot and bothered when they caught a girl doing the splits; gave them some pretty perverse ideas about what her flexibility must be like in a bedroom situation. I can quite honestly say that I am no more or less adventurous than any other woman; in spite of my flexibility. Probably less, to be fair. Though I was fairly confident in initiating sex, I wasn’t what you would call exactly… imaginative. I gather Hancock had more than enough of this to bring to the party to compensate for _my_ shortcomings, however.

I released my foot and leaned forward between my legs now; stretching my hands out as far as I could and leaning down until I could sink my face to the floorboards. I felt the spectacular stretch tug at the muscles down the backs of my thighs and shins; the discs of my back shifting and some popping slightly as my spine altered its position. Felt outstanding. Even better when I shifted to the left and popped the air from another couple of discs, easing a great deal of the tension that had stagnated there. I held the stretch for as long as I was able before sitting up and snapping my legs back together. I jiggled them up and down like the flexing waves of a cartoon ocean; softening the muscles a little.

Feeling better for having attended to my responsibilities, I climbed back to my feet and trotted over to the bedside table for a drink of water. It was room temperature at this point but still did the job of rehydrating me. I swallowed about three big gulps before coming up for air; tempted to pour a little over myself to help cool down. A shower was _definitely_ in order; especially if I was going to impose myself on the public anytime soon. But I remembered Hancock’s advice about the water; that it would be preferable if we were to shower in groups where possible, so as to prevent wastage. I decided to wander upstairs and see if some of the girls were still around.

I was loathe to put my jeans back on; feeling so cool and free in just the knickers and top. But I didn’t think Hancock would be too impressed to hear I’d been strutting about the Statehouse in the near altogether, under the dutiful inspection of the Neighborhood Watch. Oh, who the hell was I kidding; he’d probably be proud as punch, letting everyone see what he was getting these days. Nick and Codsworth would certainly give me a stern talking to however and irrespective of that, I wasn’t sure I really wanted the collective perves of Goodneighbor staring at me while I waddled around in my baggy undies.

I ruffled through my bag; convinced I had a pair of shorts in there that wouldn’t be so manky for a short trip around the neighbourhood. They were denim cut off’s, though cut off to the upper mid thigh rather than the middle of the ass mark. I figured this would have been a little inappropriate when travelling around the Wasteland and after the _Rolling Ranch_ I certainly didn’t want to risk provoking any of the other marauding perverts that might have been stalking the greater uncharted Commonwealth.

Don’t get me wrong; I like short shorts. I’d owned several dozen pairs in my previous life. But I’m trying to be a little more practical and a lot less vain in this time and all the shorts needed to do was keep me cool, whilst allowing me to preserve some of my manoeuvrability. There was certainly no justifiable reason why I needed to be exposing my buttocks as we got about the place. Despite the strong argument Hancock had made for their case.

I gave the shorts a quick sniff and, convinced that they weren’t too pongy, dropped them to the floor and stepped into them. I wriggled the material up my hips; fastening the twin buttons over the curve of my stomach. They were high waisted, thank goodness. A facet that I tended to look for in most lower body articles following my pregnancy. Any means to tuck my stomach in where possible.

I felt a bit embarrassed about my legs though. They were pretty hairy; which was why I’d been wearing the jeans in the first place. I’d have to scuttle my ass up and down those stairs as quickly as possible, before the boys noticed and started calling me names like ‘Eensy weensy Munch’ and ‘spider woman’ and other equally witty things.

I thought it perhaps a very good thing that Hancock and I hadn’t had the opportunity to go all the way before. Now I would have time to get myself all smooth and slidey for him; maybe even trim a few – ahem – _other_ untamed regions that I might have let get a bit out of control. Wouldn’t want to give him any validation following his ‘lack of body grooming’ comment earlier. Mean bastard. Just because _he_ had the luxury of being as smooth – body hair wise – as a melon.

I didn’t bother with putting my shoes back on but I did tie the flannel shirt around myself; safely tucking my breasts into the cups I created. I hadn’t minded Hancock having a good old look but I don’t think it was necessary for the Watchmen to have the same… ahem, _pleasure_. It was still going to be embarrassing as shit though… I mean, they’d _heard_ us in here. Well, Jack had at least. I could only hope that there had been a shift change whilst I’d been napping.

Of course I had no such luck and it was Jack’s leering smile that greeted my own beet red expression as I stepped out the door; adjusting my duffle on my back so as to have something else to focus on. He chuckled and doffed the tip of his fedora at me.

“Well… good afternoon to _you_ , little lady.” He said, smirking all the more for the fact that I was hardly what you would call ‘little’ and that I hadn’t much behaved like a lady recently. “Did you enjoy your… _nap_?”

I did my best to ignore the purposeful innuendo he’d instilled before the word ‘nap’ and gave him what I hope was my very best most charming smile. “Very muchly, thankyou Jack. I’m pleased to see that John didn’t follow through with his threat to murder all of you.”

Jack pursed his lips; tilting his head from side to side. “Eh… he might have done. If your big old pooch hadn’t distracted him. Took a nice old chunk out of his ass. Heh, classic.”

My face dropped in shock. “Oh no, he _didn’t_ , did he? Please tell me Hancock didn’t shoot him or kick him or something. He’s just having such a hard time adjusting.”

“Hey, you don’t gotta explain to me.” Jack said, reaching into his inside pocket and taking out what looked like a stick of beef jerky. He tore the plastic aside with his teeth and took a good bite; chewing as he continued speaking. “My old man died when I was real little and me mum went and hooked up with this other fella. He was nice enough, but I wasn’t prepared to deal with a new Dad; just up and trying to make me like him. Reckon I woulda gone and bitten him on the ass myself. Anyway, you don’t gotta worry. Boss wouldn’t do nothin’ to go and get you upset, Muncher. Valentine came and took him off for a wee wander, try and cool the old dog off. Got myself a clip under the ear for havin’ a chuckle though.”

I laughed softly, thinking this very much in Hancock’s nature. “Yeah, can’t imagine he saw the humor in it himself. Hey, have you seen any of the others come down? Thinkin’ I’d go and take myself a shower and John suggested that us girls go as a group. You know, to save water.”

It was Jack’s turn to chuckle now. “Yeah, I bet _that’s_ the reason he suggested it. And don’t go saying it too loudly either, or you’ll have all the boys panting and puffing outside the bathroom door.” He smiled and gestured up the stairs with the half eaten stick of meat. “All of ‘em went took off coupla hours back; gone for some grub, I reckon. Only the pretty little reporter and the dude with the sunglasses have rounded back up since.”

“Thanks Jack. I’ll head on up and say hey.” He gave a distracted little salute; his expression something akin to what I can only describe as ‘mopey’. It definitely wasn’t like him, so I felt I should ask. “Tell me if I’m sticking my beak in here but… is everything all right?”

He glanced up at me; quirking his brow and then gave a sort of bashful smile, the kind most proud men resort to when they felt they’d been caught out in a moment of weakness. “Ah, it ain’t nothin’ much, Munch. I was just hopin’ I could go and shoot my load before the fete tomorrow but Fahrenheit’s gone and put the mockers on it.” He must have caught the equally shocked and confused look on my face because he laughed and waved the beef stick from side to side. “Ha – Jesus, sorry darlin’! I keep forgettin’ you don’t know all our lingo round here yet. It’s cause I’m a Glowin’ one, ya see? A ‘luminous nectrotic post-person’,” He said with a laugh. “Got so much Rads in me that I’m kinda a living channel for it… A walking Medkit so far as all the other Ghouls around here are concerned. Not ta mention I can release bursts of Radiation ta bring down human attackers… like if Smooth-skin Raiders rock up to town. I’ve been able to use some of my Rads to help with the bosses recovery too, ya know?”

“That’s kind of you.” I said, thinking all the while that I should have perhaps taken a Rad-X before spending too long in conversation with Jack. Lovely though the chap was, the radiation from a Glowing one was constantly exhuming and I wondered at that moment whether I was being affected. He must have noticed some concern in my expression because he immediately chuckled.

“Ya don’t gotta worry yer noggin’, Munch. Ain’t too many Glowing One’s who still got their faculties. Those of us that do, we got to keep ‘em because we learn finite control of the Glow.” To demonstrate, he lifted his hand to his mouth, luminous face pinched with concentration. Streams of glowing… light, crept forward between his lips and down through the holes of his nasal cavity. They wound together to form an intricate twined ball that hovered above the palm of his hand. I gaped in astonishment, thinking that this was as close to magic as was possible in this world. With another light chuckle, he lifted the ball towards his face and sucked it back between his lips as though it were nothing more than a couple of strands of spaghetti. “I’ve learnt to control the direction of the bursts by using the Radiation still present in the cells of my body. Works sorta like a… magnet. To send energy in a certain direction, all ya gotta do is propel with force; use your arms, your muscles, your hips and legs. Ain’t rocket science. The Feral Glowin’ One’s… they just shoot their shit off indiscriminately.”

I was still standing dumbstruck by the supposedly ‘simple’ trick that he had pulled off. I near gibbered through the context of my next statement. “But… but that’s bloody marvellous!! By god, you’re a force to be reckoned with, having abilities like that!”

He didn’t look altogether pleased by what I had intended to be a compliment. “Yeah well… that’s the reason why Fahrenheit wants me ‘fully loaded’ for the fete. Ya see… the only time I can’t control the radiation is when I’m… you know…” He tilted his head towards me meaningfully. “ _Preoccupied_ with other stuff.”

“Oh.” I said, tilting my head at him and smiling gently. “The _sex_ stuff, you mean?”

He smiled kind of sadly. “Ain’t too much of a problem if I hook up with another Ghoul but if I meet a Smoothskin? I could end up broiling them with radiation when I… you know. You think a burst from one of those buggers out in the Wasteland is bad but _this_ … I mean, not to be lewd Munch but it’s pretty much like being _injected_ with Rads. Overdosed. Ain’t even safe with normal Ghouls because too much of a whack of it and the brain goes into the Rot and sends ‘em well mental.” He took another bite of the jerky; chipmunk-ing the morsel in the cavern of his cheek. “Only way I can have a shot at a normal hook up is I take myself on right outta town and just – cut sick, ya know? Blast out as much Rads as I got. Leaves me feelin’ a bit weak but once I’m drained, it takes a while for the cells to produce more rads and they’re so preoccupied with the energy required for that, that I can be with someone and not worry about any of the bursts.”

I nodded gently, understanding now what might have been going on. “But Fahrenheit would prefer you to keep yourself fully charged in case something were to happen?”

He gave me a meaningful look. “Christmas Eve’s the anniversary of the coup, ya see? It’s a time we mean ta celebrate, but it’s also a time we leave ourselves open to attack. Me and the rest of the boys alternate shifts durin’ the night so as we can all be havin’ ourselves a time but mosta the young fella’s end up drinkin’ too much, or takin’ too many Chems. There’s only a handful of us that take it serious enough.”

“And I suppose that would be any of the nine of you that were here for the original coup.”

Jack looked a little surprised at this. “Boss told you about the nine of us involved?”

I laughed lightly. “Oh yes; quite the militia. Nine of you stalwart little chaps, chopping away at the root of evil.” I started counting off on my fingers. “Let me see if I’ve got this right: There was you, John, Fahrenheit, Adrian, Ryan, Meyer, Pattie, Rob and…” I wriggled my fingers about, struggling to bring the last piece together. “Dammit… I always forget who the last fella was.”

Jack gave a wry smile. “Archie Commerford. He was the first to break up our happy little gang and move on outta here with the missus.” He popped the last little piece of jerky into his mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully. “Although… s’pose you _could_ argue that it was Meyer who went done the dirty on us first.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely curious. “I know Meyer was involved in the coup. John said he chopped that many people up with his axe you’d think a Deathclaw had just mowed its way through town.”

“I’m probably soundin’ more harsh than I’m actually meanin’. Just the way we talk around here, love.” He swallowed the jerky down and then reached for a tin of water perched on the floor beside his foot. He took a quick swing and swished the contents around his mouth before continuing. “Hancock took the other eight of us fella’s out ta train in the ruins; get us all primed up for the coup. But Meyer split halfway through and came back to town.”

I cocked my brow at him. “But why? Did he lose faith or-”

Jack laughed. “Ya kiddin’? Old mans got boulders b’tween his legs. Ain’t nothin’ much scares him. Nah, he came back b’cause Meaghan’s Pop got himself whacked by Vic’s goons one night. He was about the only thing keepin’ her safe from bein’… used for sport, ya know? Sorry ta talk outta turn Munch but that’s how a lotta lady folk got treated back then. Vic and his mob had no respect. Just took what they wanted.”

“So I heard.” I said grimly, reminding myself that it wasn’t only the women who had been poorly treated. I thought of poor Ryan’s three missing fingers and the strip of tape that had been slapped across John’s lips. The caps spilling out onto the cobbling stones as Rob had ripped it from his face…

“Yeah well… Meyer freaked well out when he heard. He knew Meaghan wouldn’t be safe, ya know? They weren’t together then, the two of ‘em but he loved her all the same. It was a huge risk for ‘im to go back to town; not just cause of the obvious danger mind but because he knew about all of us and what we were up to.” Jack smirked and gave a little quirk of his head. “But the boss trusted him. He knew the old bloke would sooner fall headfirst on his own axe rather than throw any of us over. So he marched himself back inta town and stood b’tween Meaghan and anyone who done mean to hurt her. Was on point ‘til the night of the coup. Then he got well amongst it.”

I chuckled at this, feeling a soft warmth lilting through my chest. “Well there you go. That’s quite the romantic story.”

“Meg seemed ta think so. She married the daft old coot less than a year later. Lucky bastard.” Jack gave a wide grin, his two crooked rows of teeth glowing like something out of a toothpaste commercial. “Goodneighbor’s first weddin’ under the new regime. BC nearly bawled the fuckin’ place down.”

“I can definitely see that.” I said, smiling as I reached over to give Jack’s upper arm a bit of rub. I could feel the slightest hint of a vibration beneath the sleeve of his jacket; perhaps the thrumming of all that condensed energy. “For what it’s worth, I sure am sorry you gotta stay all pent up. From what John’s told me in the past, just about _everyone_ expects to get laid at the Christmas party.”

“It’s a tried and true tradition.” Jack said with a sigh. “I swear, I’m gonna go and put in for the time off like… six months in advance next year. Make up for lost time.”

I petted his arm again. “Hey, chin up. Who knows, you might go and meet a nice lady Glowing One at the party. Then the two of you can just… rad all over each other.”

He laughed and flashed a wink at me. “That there’s the dream, Munchkin. Probably blast all of Goodneighbor with radiation if somethin’ like that ever happened. Don’t reckon ol’ Betta would be too pleased with me.” He gave me what I took to be a now more serious look. “But seriously, thanks for the talk, kiddo. Ain’t many round here that’d make the time ta listen to my whinging.”

“It’s hardly whinging.” I said, pulling a face. “It’s not easy for you to have what so many folks around here would take for granted. Even other Ghouls have got it easier than you.” I put my hands on my hips and gave him a stern look. “Besides, it’s not healthy to bottle things up. Physically _or_ emotionally. You’ll end up exploding with rage one day and probably taking out all of Goodneighbor in some… repressed nuclear blast and where would _that_ leave us?”

I roused a laugh from him with this. “Ya know, I can see why the boss fancies you. Mores the shame for the rest of us, eh?” He smiled at me. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad he’s settled on someone like you, Munch. Not to say he’s _settled_ for you… couldn’t do any better, I reckon. It’s just… boy I’ve seen him with some freakin’ idiots throughout the years. Dames he was just havin’ a bit of fun with, thinking they was now Queen of the town. Bossin’ the rest of us around, thinkin’ they’d get special concessions and all that shit. But you ain’t like that. You’re just a lovely, down to earth lass. Exactly the kind a gal the boss needs, I reckon.”

I flushed a little; flattered by Jack’s words. It was gratifying to think that I had won the approval of at least ‘some’ of the folks in Goodneighbor. And not just because I had a big rack but because they genuinely liked me as a person. That I was good enough to be at the side of their beloved mayor; whom they all adored and felt maybe the slightest bit protective over.

“Thankyou, Jack. That means a lot to me.” I said sincerely, reaching across once more to squeeze his wrist. “And I’m sorry if I’m cutting you short but I’d best be getting my ass in motion or John and I’ll be having a bunny lunch for dinner tonight.”

Jack waved a hand leisurely. “S’all good, Munch. Don’t be lettin’ me keep ya.” He flashed what I took to be a rather self-conscious looking smile. “And thanks again… you know, for hearing me out.”

“Yah y’betcha yah.” I said, smiling as I stepped past him and made my way towards the right hand upper stairwell. Rob waited until I got just close enough to have his attention before pinching his bottom lip between his teeth and issuing a loud, brash wolf whistle.

“Gosh darn! Wasn’t sure you _had_ legs under them jeans you be wearin’ all the time!” He cajoled, smirking as I turned and pulled a face at him.

“Well, if you were close enough to see how hairy they are, you’d understand _why_ I persist in hiding them.” I called back, trotting up and out of his line of sight before he could pursue his teasing of me. I could hear his laughter follow me up the stairwell and I shook my head; slightly annoyed at having dobbed myself in the way I’d done. Sometimes I simply couldn’t help but take the sport out of picking on me, it seemed…

I chuckled as I stepped out into the main attic area, taking a moment to look around and truly appreciate what Hancock and his crew had done with the place.

Rather than contenting himself with tossing a few threadbare mattresses onto the floor, Hancock had (as he had mentioned previously) set up ten or so folding steel cots against the walls of the room; the type that could curl in upon themselves like a pill bug, for ease of transport and storage. All of them were currently made up however and plump with assorted blankets, pillows, rugs and the like. Judging from the mishmash of shoes, baggage and boxes surrounding at least half of them, it would seem that the Statehouse was currently accommodating a number of guests. My first guess would be that it was some of the workmen and cleaning crew that Hancock had spoken of before. No doubt trading labor for board.

The room was a little darker than the downstairs area; considering that most of the windows were located in the two adjacent rooms and these were both currently shut. The one on the far left had a sign on the door, which read, when I wandered close enough to read it; Private Guest Room. I can only imagine that Hancock kept this reserved for, obviously, private or extra privileged guests. The other room was where, I could only assume, my menagerie of friends were staying. The ‘Not-so privileged’ guests.

I made my way over, tapping my knuckle lightly against the door. “Heya sleepyheads. Sorry to disturb you but I was just wondering if you wanted to pop down to the shower room with me, Piper?”

I didn’t wait for a reply and simply pushed the door open. I wasn’t concerned about walking in on a compromising situation, as Piper was fairly conservative as a point of principal and with Deacon in the same room, I could only imagine that they would both be snuggling up in their neighbouring beds; as fully clothed as the hot weather would allow them. Snoring and or relaxing in some form or another.

Imagine my surprise when I came face to face with their matching shocked expressions; staring up at me from the one bed they were plainly sharing. Sans so much as a stitch of clothing and covered in little else than a light film of sweat and one another; legs working desperately to untangle themselves, hands slapping and pushing against slick, shiny flesh.

I confess that my response wasn’t the most mature it could have been. I’m pretty sure I let out a high pitched, girly yelp of shock and almost slammed the door into my nose in my haste to get it shut. Blood rushed to my face and I flinched my chin down towards my chest as I heard Piper’s angry voice scream out; “ _Goddammit, BLUE!!”_ from the other room.

“Sorry.” I called back lamely, still attempting to collate my thoughts into something that made so much as a lick of sense. Since when had Piper and Deacon been… _intimate_ with one another? I racked my brain for some memory that might explain in part what I had just seen. I know that they had _almost_ slept together at Beacon Hill; they’d sure as shit kissed and gotten a little touchy feely with one another but they had been _drunk_ and this one occurrence had been the end of it, so far as I was aware…

I suddenly felt a bit ashamed of myself. Had this been going on right under my nose all this time? Was I simply so taken in by my own agenda that I’d failed to notice? Taking no time to appreciate what might be occurring between two of my closest friends because I was so focused on Shaun and distracted further in turn by my developing feelings for Hancock? Shit.

My blush wasn’t going away without a fight either. Jesus, you would think I’d be used to nudity by now. But I’d sort of gotten accustomed to… Hancock’s nudity; given the amount of time we had spent in one another’s company. And though I _had_ seen Deacon’s bare bottom through the flap of his Long John’s before, I certainly hadn’t been prepared to see it framed on either side by Piper’s naked _thighs._

“I’ll just uh… leave you to it.” I called into the pair, hoisting my bag higher on my shoulders and turning to make my way back down the stairs. I heard some harried rustling going on from behind the door.

“No, no, no, just – just _wait,_ Blue!” Piper hollered urgently and then her voice lowered to an incomprehensible hushed whisper. She must have been exchanging words with Deacon, I rationalized. I waited uncomfortably, forcing my gaze to drift about the room in search of something that might take up my attention for the time being. I had just allowed myself to become increasingly consumed with interest in yet another poster advertisement for the _Silver Shroud_ radio show, when the door eased open and Piper slid herself gingerly out through the small gap she had allowed. She was wrapped in a cushy blue bathrobe; which she had cinched and knotted firmly about her middle. Her duffle bag was perched on her shoulders and her own flushed gaze was directed pointedly away from my own. Twisted strands of her thick black hair had stuck to the sides of her neck and temples and her forehead was still speckled by tiny, egg shaped beads of sweat.

“Where’d you… get the bathrobe?” I asked, making one very half-assed attempt to syringe the awkwardness out of the situation.

Piper sniffed, still refusing to look at me. “Had a couple of them hanging in the wardrobe. Guess Hancock thinks he’s turning this place into an authenticated B & B or something.”

I pursed my lips, nodding as though her response had been something requiring further introspection on my part. Piper’s eyes failed to so much as shift in their sockets and her mouth was twisted determinedly to the right. Her cheeks were very pink but she didn’t appear embarrassed so much as… I don’t know… sad? It was a confusing expression.

“So…” I drawled, dragging the word out beyond the point of all context. Waiting for Piper to jump in and say something. When she failed to respond I decided to simply plough ahead with what had brought me upstairs in the first place. “You remember how uh… John advised us to shower in groups? Well um… I uh… need to pop down for a shower. And I’m guessing that um… you probably _really_ need to shower as well, considering-”

Piper groaned, long and agonizingly towards the ceiling. “Jesus Christ, Blue – okay! _Okay!_ You don’t have to pretend like you didn’t see, I know you got a good look.”

“More than I ever wanted and or needed to see.” I mumbled, raking my fingers back through my hair to take some of my own sweaty bangs away from my forehead. My face was hot enough as it was, all things considered.

“Well it serves you right for just barging on in the way you did.” She snapped, frowning and narrowing her eyes at me. “For God sakes; it’s a simple enough process. You make a fist and _pound_! Do you _want_ me to demonstrate?!”

It was my turn now to frown at her. “Now don’t go puffing your chest up at _me,_ madam. I’ll sit on you and squash you like a Radroach.” This forced the smallest little smile out of her thank goodness and so I reached out to give her elbow a rub. Damn… that was nice material in that bathrobe. “I’m sorry. I just… wasn’t expecting that anything would be… you know… _happening_ in there.”

Piper gave an ironic shrug of her shoulders, glancing back off to the side and twitching her cheek up to form a humorless smile. 

“How long has this been going on for?” I gently enquired. She sighed now and tipped her forehead back so that her eyes swung up towards the rafters.

“This is only the fourth time it’s happened…” She said, using the word ‘only’ in an attempt to downplay the situation as much as possible, I think. I’m not certain whether this information was intended to assuage me but I was quite honestly just more the confused for it.

“What, you’ve slept together _four_ times?” I queried, not meaning to sound so shocked. Piper’s brows lightly bobbed on her forehead in place of a nod. “ _Uff da maida_ … you sure kept _that_ quiet, didn’t you? Sly minx.”

She battered away my elbow as I nudged her a couple of times with it. “Yes we kept it quiet, Blue. Besides, it only started… _happening_ after you and Hancock had gone on your way.” She glanced briefly back over her shoulder towards the doorway and then leaned closer to me and lowered her voice. “Could we maybe just… walk as we talk? I don’t really want him overhearing.”

“Sure.” I said, stepping aside and allowing her to scurry ahead of me towards the stairwell. “Didn’t think you’d want to risk any of the Neighborhood Watch fella’s catching on, is all.”

“That’s why we’ll try to talk _covertly.”_ Piper hissed back, lifting her hand and then pushing her palm downward in a clear indication for me to lower my voice. This was far from the first time I’d been accused of speaking too loudly. I do suspect it may be the bawdy old Plains folk coming out in me.

I behaved myself as we emerged into the second floor; which is more than can be said for Jack and Rob who immediately started tormenting the ever loving shit out of Piper for sashaying about in the bathrobe. They shut it down after a gentle chiding from me but Piper didn’t seem particularly bothered by it and simply traipsed her way downstairs without so much as a rebuke. I guess she was still preoccupied with what had happened.

I didn’t push her further and simply followed along as she wound her way down past the ground floor and into the basement area. Instead of breaking off to the left and heading for the shower block; she paused and waited for me to catch up, winding her arms about her mid-section self-consciously. There were no Neighborhood watch assigned to the basement; mainly for privacies sake I would assume. No doubt this was the very reason she had chosen to have the conversation there.

“God, it’s so embarrassing that you had to see that.” She grumbled, still doing one heck of a job with avoiding direct eye contact with me.

I shrugged. “Well, I don’t think there was any requirement that I _had_ to see it, Piper. And would you _please_ stop trying to avoid making eye contact with me? I’m not going to fucking molest you if you look me in the face. And if it helps, I saw _WAY_ more of Deacon than I did _you_ , so he’ll be more likely to receive the ravishing if he ever comes out of that room.”

Her flush ran a little deeper as she finally turned her gaze back to meet my own. She continued to have difficulty holding it but it was at least an improvement to talking down at her cheek.

“We’re not in love.” She clarified and it so neatly answered the question I was about to ask, that I felt for a moment she must have read my mind. Perhaps my expression spelt my thoughts out far more accurately than I realized at first.

“Ah.” I said, not certain whether I was relieved or disappointed. “So this is just a, uh… friends with benefits thing?”

She curled her shoulders up; her expression so beautifully desperate that my heart immediately panged in sympathy for her. It seemed to mirror all too well, the confusion I myself felt when she had queried me earlier regarding Hancock.

“I don’t know…” She sighed; her voice a composite in uncertainty. “I mean… here I am, always going on about people having standards and not giving in to weak, petty indulgences… Like having sex with people you don’t really care about because you just want to feel better.” Her eyes teared over as she trailed her fingers back through her hair; carving trenches through the thick, dark tresses. “The thing is… I had no _idea_. I had no freakin’ idea how _bad_ a body could feel, Blue! Just trying to sleep with all those… memories of the Ranch just – rolling and rolling and _rolling_ through my head…”

“Hey. You don’t have to justify _anything_ to me.” I said, all desire to tease evaporating in the wake of her genuine distress. I petted and squeezed her arm through the soft, warm sleeve of her robe, wishing it would ease her miserable expression in even the slightest. “I’m sorry if I was picking on you. But you know there isn’t anything _wrong_ with what you and Deacon are doing. So long as you’re… both on the same page with it?”

Her teeth pressed to her lower lip; a classic display of discomfort on her part. “That’s just the thing; we _are_. We were both just… sort of talking about stuff one night; less than a few days after you and Hancock had left. I think it was being around all those… people all the time. Especially the kids.” She used the thick cord of the gown to wipe at the sides of her eyes as they teared up. “Got me thinking about Nat… how some of these children were even younger than her. I thought _I_ was feeling it worse because of that but Deacon he… he woke up and couldn’t got back to sleep. Just sat with me up in the obelisk; smoking and throwing back a few drinks. And then he suddenly just-” Her arms unfolded and her hands gestured out towards me uselessly. “- _breaks down_ right in front of me. He just _sobs and sobs and SOBS_ , Eve! I mean you _know_ how together he is all the time; how he manages to put up that pretence of being all knowing and unaffected by shit going on around him. But he’s just _crying_ and it’s _so_ goddamn awful…”

“Jesus… I can only imagine.” I said honestly because I had never seen Deacon in such a state myself. He’d been an absolute mess following the _Rolling Ranch_ but in more of a shut-down, shell-shocked sort of way. I’d seen him sitting and staring down at his hands, or pacing and chain smoking fistfuls of cigarettes at a time, seemingly unable to remain still and be at peace within his own mind and body. But then, who among us had coped any better?

Piper looked into my own eyes meaningfully and I could easily see the compassion that she felt for Deacon in that simple, endearing gesture. “I think something… really, _really_ terrible happened to him there, Blue. Something he _hates_ himself for… something he’s finding it almost impossible to live with.” She choked back a sob and returned her arms to about her midsection; squeezing tightly. “He was so… _desperate_ to stop feeling that way… and… so was I. It just…” She shrugged helplessly. “Happened. Easier than I ever thought it would ever be. God, I feel like such a fucking hypocrite.”

“You’re not a hypocrite.” I said, thinking back to my own spontaneous and heated session with Hancock just a few hours earlier. Not to mention that traitorous exchange with Xavier over… well, two hundred years ago. If _anyone_ knew the ease with which a body could drive itself towards another when the urge is great enough, it was me. “And I think you’re right. About Deacon, I mean. I think John might have… _seen_ what happened. But I’ve never asked for details and he’s never offered them up. That’s for Deacon to share, if and when he ever feels like it might be useful to do so.”

Piper gave a shallow nod; though she didn’t look the least pleased for the confirmation of her fears.

“But,” I continued. “The question remains as to whether this arrangement is healthy for the two of you. It sounds to me like you feel in part responsible for maintaining his mental stability. Don’t read me wrong, there isn’t anything the matter with what you’re doing. You’re both adults, for fucks sake. My only concern is that it might develop into a sort of habit; a dependency of sorts. To continue using one another when you’re feeling down or stressed out.”

“What, like you and your alcohol, you mean?” Piper sniped and it might have hurt if she hadn’t immediately looked sorry for saying it.

“Yes.” I stated before she had a chance to round up and apologize. “Like me and my alcohol. Or John with his Chems. Or any of us with our cigarettes. But we’re not talking about _substances_ here, Piper. We’re talking about a very intimate act, with a lot of very intense feelings at the core of it. And like I said before; I really don’t judge. I know you might not believe that; but I don’t. At this stage in my life, I personally would prefer to have sex with someone I was in love with but that shouldn’t suggest I was always so well behaved. Or that I have a problem with people who have sex simply because they enjoy sex.” I snorted out a burst of laughter. “I mean, for God’s sake love, I’ve been friends with John long enough. If _he_ hasn’t managed to shock me yet, I doubt that _you’ll_ be able to. No offense.”

“Speaking of which, have _you_ decided whether you’re in love with Hancock or not?” She asked and though the words sounded a little harsh, her tone suggested otherwise. I think she was genuinely curious and as purely concerned with me as I was with her. And patently attempting to defer from the topic of conversation.

I gave her a small, patient smile and crossed my arms. “I didn’t _decide_ anything. I just… _am_ in love with him. And what I was _going_ to say, before you oh so obviously tried to change the topic, is that I care about you and Deacon.” I forced Piper’s hands out from underneath the tight press of her arms and held them gently with my own. “You’re like my family now. And I don’t wanna see my family get hurt. That’s my only worry.”

“Well, it’s not like Deacon and I were seeing anyone when this arrangement started.” Piper murmured and then, with a slight chuckle, flicked some of her hair away from her eyes and smiled up at me. “But um... I’m sure you won’t be the least bit surprised, since you’ve been apparently rooting for it since day one but… Adrian asked me to have dinner with him at his place tonight.”

I lifted my brow sceptically. “Really? Well… _that_ was rather bold of him. Considering you’ve been upstairs under another man all afternoon.”

She gave me a good slap around the arm for this. “We haven’t been upstairs _all_ afternoon, smart-ass. We all went to grab something to eat just after you and Hancock went off to do your own thing.” She groaned and shook her head tiredly. “The big old beefcake was actually bouncing around on a fucking _jumping castle_ when I first saw him. Got all flustered and fell off the damn thing. Sent that creepy Irish guy flipping through the air.” She chuckled appreciatively. “Oh… of all the times I wished I had a camera.”

I chuckled at the image that sprung to life in my head. “Poor darling Adrian. I hope you weren’t too proud with him, Piper.”

“I’m not… proud.” She protested, releasing my hands so that she could tuck some damp strands of sweaty hair behind her ear. “I said yes, after all.”

“And then came straight back here and hopped into bed with Deacon.”

She glared at me sharply from the corner of her eye. “I thought you said you weren’t going to judge.”

“I’m not judging. Simply… curious about what your thinking was.” I cocked my head at her, softly enquiring. “Is it the idea of moving on from a comfortable arrangement for something that may be potentially scary?”

She gave a dismissive sounding grunt. “Not so much that… It’s just… when I said ‘yes’ to Adrian’s offer, Deacon looked a little put out… He got up and left shortly after. I followed him back up here and… well, you saw what happened. In part.”

I smiled at her; unconvinced. “But that’s not the whole story is it, honey?”

Her sigh was one of true annoyance now. “God I wish you weren’t so fucking nosy. _And_ intuitive. If you must know, he said he freaked out a bit because… he got used to the idea that when things got tough… we were currently sort of… _available_ to one another. And if I started to see a fellow then whatever this is that we’ve got going on would just… fall apart.”

I nodded; understanding now. “And he would be forced to find other ways to deal with his trauma.”

“That seems to be the long and the short of it.” Piper sighed. She looked at me earnestly. “And it scares the shit out of him, Blue. Scares me a little too. It sounds horrible but… he’s…” Her shoulders rolled as her mind took a similar, topsy-turvey pattern in trying to get her meaning across. “ _Easy_ to be with. He’s nice looking, he’s in good shape…”

“There’s nothing wrong with Adrian’s shape.” I said, perhaps a little defensive on my part. Piper gave me a knowing look.

“Yes, Blue. I know you’re the current champion of the _Shuffle-fuck_ brigade and all but… it’s not quite as cut and dry for the rest of us.” She flashed me a desperate look; appealing deeply for my understanding on the matter. “I’ve never _been_ with a Ghoul before. I’ve never even _thought_ about it. Until… today that is. I’m just not sure how I could kinda… switch off when I’m with one. Like I said; it’s easy with Deacon.”

“Is he good?” I asked and was forced to throw my hands up to ward off the offended expression she shot my way. “Steady on; I’m just curious.”

“Yeah, well you know what they said about curiosity and its end consequences for cats.” Piper drawled, refolding her arms and flashing me a scolding look. This is how Hancock must have usually felt when I directed one at him. “Not that it’s any of your business Blue but yes, he is good. _Very_ good, actually. I think that’s the main reason I keep on just… boomeranging back to him.”

“So it’s more physical for you now than emotional.”

“Very emotional for _him_ though.” She sighed. “I’m not proud of it. Not of any of it. And thing is; which I’m sure will please you, is that I genuinely _like,_ Adrian.” She started counting off on her fingers. “He’s humble, he’s bright, he’s… motivated. And kind. He loves reading and he really gets the importance of hard hitting journalism.” She smiled lightly. “And yes… he’s in _very_ good shape. I like that he’s such a big strong guy. I don’t think a Super Mutant would get past him.”

I gave her a long look. “But… he’s a Ghoul.”

She groaned. “You don’t have to lecture me, Blue. I’m not proud of how I feel but I just… I don’t _know_ if I could handle it. The… physical aspect that is.” She glanced off to the side with a huff. “The thing is; if he _wasn’t_ a Ghoul, I don’t think I would have hesitated for as long as I have. For all intents and purposes he’s kind of perfect for me.”

One of my brows cocked up quite independently of my conscious dictation. “You don’t have any additional concerns because he’s… black, do you?”

Her eyes blanched open so wide, I felt immediately ashamed of myself for asking. “What? _No_ , of course not! Why would you even think that, Blue?”

I shrugged and glanced off to the side; embarrassed in my having so much as a consideration for the color of this lovely mans’ skin. “Well, it’s not as though it’s a worry for _me._ I mean, I’m a mixed race mutt myself, you know? But… I _did_ come from a town where there wasn’t a huge amount of diversity. Hate to say it… but it was a question that tended to crop up more often than it should have done.”

“What, North Dakota, you mean?” Piper asked, though her expression suggested she was a tad uncertain regarding my statement. “I don’t know, Blue. Sometimes I wonder if it isn’t just the time you came from…”

I waved a hand dismissively. “I’m talking about individual people and _their_ issues, Piper. I personally dated the goddamned rainbow when it came to men. And you can’t just go and pretend like prejudice doesn’t exist in your time. Here you are telling me that you’re having doubts about dating someone because of their race. I’m still trying to figure out just where people in your time… you know.” I used my hand to imitate carving something down the middle of my palm. “Draw the line.”

“Well not with skin color, _that’s_ for certain.” Piper muttered, glancing down at the lapel of her robe and then plucking a white strand of cotton away from the material. She flicked it off to the side and then continued speaking. “Or sexuality, more to the point. I guess it’s more skin… type, if anything.”

“So Ghouls then.” I murmured, feeling my limited understanding of racial prejudice in the Commonwealth deepen at last. It made sense now, why Ghouls were so discriminated against. In part, it was a relief to know that so many of these age old bigotries had been shunted off to the side but only in favor of replacing them with other minority groups. It seems that the human race will always need something to persecute.

Piper pursed her lips and glanced away. “Sometimes I envy you, Blue. The moral high ground mustn’t seem so scary to you… because you haven’t grown up in our world. And it’s not like I waste much time worrying about other people’s good opinion, you know? But there are… _other_ considerations.”

I nodded as kindly as I was able; reminding myself of some of these concerns that a young woman might have, if she had been any one besides _me._ “I think I get some of that. Apart from your fears concerning the skin to skin contact, there is the fact that if you were to fall in love with a Ghoul; you would never be able to have children with them.”

Piper’s bright green eyes flashed towards me desperately. “Doesn’t that weigh in for _you_ , Blue? I mean… I have Nat sure but… I’ve always wanted to have kids of my own too, you know?”

I smiled and shook my head slowly at her. “No, darling. I don’t want any more children of my own. I love Shaun, of course but he’s my living, breathing, existing child. He’s the only one I want or need in my life.” I sighed and blew a long strand of hair out of my eye with a somnolent gust; thinking back to Hancock’s admission earlier. The one that had most genuinely shocked the shit out of me. That made me grieve for him with the entirety of my heart and soul. I’d thought for certain that he hadn’t wanted children but he’d blatantly told me that if he was able to have them he would _want_ to have them with me. Thank the Lord he wouldn’t be able to get me pregnant. Given his age, I wouldn’t have trusted him to not push the issue if he was fertile. But it was still so terribly sad for him at the end of the day… to _not_ be able to have any of his own. It was easy for me to throw in the towel now that I had Shaun. If, of course… I was ever able to get him back.

From the look on Piper’s face, I think she realized where my dour thoughts had now progressed to and she reached over to give my palm a caring and gentle squeeze. She looked as though she was about to say something but I had no desire to talk about my son and risk upsetting myself all the more. That situation couldn’t be helped; not while the teleporter was still being constructed at least. And getting all worked up and bent out of shape wasn’t conducive to anything.

“So uh… you had all these doubts about Adrian and you still said yes to a date?” I questioned, taking my hand away from Piper’s and using it to jerk the left hand strap of my duffle up a little more firmly against my shoulder. Piper was kind enough to go along with me and return to the previous topic of conversation.

“Because I want to get over those doubts.” She said firmly, giving me an even more determined look in reinforcement of her words. “Because I care for Deacon as a friend and so far as physicality goes he’s perfect… but… I don’t want to cordon off my genuine options at a wonderful relationship, in exchange for… pity sex. Or whatever the hell it is we have going on. I don’t think… we’d be helping each other in the long term.”

I gave her a nod and a supportive smile; relieved that she had come to this conclusion on her own. “No. I don’t think that you would be. And this way, Deacon may also be able to meet someone else too.” I had one last niggling concern, so I decided to address it quickly before we made our way into the shower room. “You’ve been… _careful_ those four times the two of you…?”

Her guilty sidelong glance made me think not. “Not the… first time. It was so spontaneous and we were both so drunk that neither of us gave it a thought until afterwards. I was scared shitless until my period came and even then I still got the doctor to check everything out.” She made an ‘Okay’ sign with her fingers. “I’m on the birth control pill now, thank God.”

“Oh.” I remarked with genuine surprise. “They’re still able to produce birth control pills in this time?”

Piper gave me a look like I was an absolute nong. “Yes of _course_ they can, Blue! Things may have gone downhill since the war but this isn’t the Dark Ages, you know. Most doctors are trained in producing them at a Chemistry station. Dr Sun gave me a couple of months supply.” She smirked at me in a smug sort of way. “Not something _you’ll_ be needing anytime soon, I suppose.”

I imagine my own smile was as equally smug as hers. “Not that it’s any of your business young madam but _no._ Rumour has it that a lady in _my_ situation does not require any sort of preventative aids. And you might wish to keep in mind that this is a category that may very well apply to _you_ soon as well.” I sidestepped to avoid the full shouldered swing that she made for my upper arm. “All right, I’ll try and not tease too much.”

“I’ll believe _that_ when I see it.” Piper grumbled, chewing at her lip once more and then leaning in towards me with a genuine expression of concern. “Just... do me a favor and _please_ keep this between us, huh Blue? I don’t think the others know and I’d rather just… keep it that way.”

“Of course.” I said, flashing what I hoped was an encouraging smile. “I won’t even mention it to John. It’ll be our secret. Now can we _please_ get into the bathroom already?” I gave a little squiggle on the spot as my bladder suddenly recognized that it was full and started swelling painfully. A weird aspect of either getting older or having been pregnant or both; sometimes your bladder just crept up on you when least expected. “Because I had a _lot_ to drink with John earlier and if I don’t get rid of some of it right quick, it’s gonna be running down my leg in a few seconds.”

“Oh Jesus, just _go_ already then! _Go!_ ” Piper urged, slapping her hand to the back of my pack as I turned and scuttled towards the shower room from the knees down. I was worried that if I separated my thighs so much as a millimetre, my bladder would fail entirely, so I wasted no time in flinging myself almost headfirst through the double doors and into the room beyond. I had sense enough to check to see where the sliding plate was positioned beforehand and was relieved to see that it indicated that a woman (or a number of female person’s) were currently using the shower facilities. Not that it would have made much difference in my desperation to use the toilet. I made a mental note to myself to speak with Hancock about the possibility of installing one upstairs; as a means of avoiding some embarrassing (and really rather inevitable) accidents.

Rushing water was coming from around the far side of the tiled wall but I paid it little mind as I skidded to the right and harried on towards the toilet stalls like an angry bull at a red flag. It was a relief to see that they were all empty, so I wasn’t required to balk at the last moment and risk upsetting the delicate balance I had maintained between my upper thighs and vaginal walls. I twisted on my heels like a drunken ballet dancer and surged into the first cubicle, hurling my duffle from my shoulders in one desperate pitch that sent it bouncing off of the adjacent sinks before crashing ineloquently to the floor. I paid it little mind, more concerned with trying to unbuckle my shorts with one hand whilst reefing the door shut with the other. A nasty side effect of my being pregnant, was that my bladder had lost all apparent sense of the word ‘patience’. Nor did it seem to have the concept of ‘direct association’ down pat, for that matter either. If I was busting for a wee and my eyes so much as lit upon a toilet, my brain would for some reason interpret that as my actually _being_ on the toilet itself. And would immediately send out the message to void the lower channels. Massive muscle strength and godlike levels of concentration were required to battle this ridiculous urge and I was currently giving it everything I had.

I managed to get the door shut but working the clasp was simply out of the question. Both hands were required to get the button on my shorts undone, yank my zipper down and get the material out of the way just in the nick of time. I dropped myself onto the toilet bowl, so violently I’m certain I bruised my coccyx and slammed both feet against the stall door as it creaked threateningly towards me. I kept it shut in this manner whilst I finished my wee, sighing in relief to myself all the while. Happiness at this stage in my life was simply a nice dry pair of panties. Simple gal, simple pleasures.

And I was all the happier to find that there was actually some toilet paper in the dispenser beside me; something that had been a little bit remiss in the Goodneighbor of old. Not to mention that the toilet was so clean I didn’t feel the slightest regret in putting my bare bottom to it. Another win to John Hancock. Or rather, the ace cleaning crew who were now taking care of the bathroom facilities.

I wiped myself clean, flushed and pulled my underwear and shorts back up to around my hips. I didn’t bother to zip and button up, since I’d only be taking them off again in a second. Nor did I bother with washing my hands; reasoning that it would only be an unnecessary waste of water, given that I was about to hop into the shower. Piper still gave me a funny look as I trotted back over to join her. She hadn’t moved from just inside of the doorway and kept casting vague, uncertain glances at the tiled dividing wall.

“Do you think maybe we should come back later, Blue?” She asked, nibbling at her lower lip nervously. “Sounds like someone’s already in the shower.”

I scoffed as I glanced towards the wall. “You’d bloody hope so, considering what Hancock said about water preservation earlier. Anyway, the sign on the door said that it was a chickie in here.”

Piper didn’t look any more reassured by this and kept her arms tightly clinched about herself; as though protecting her coveted naked body as much as possible. Though she wasn’t what I would call necessarily prudish, Piper was still a very private person and much preferred to shower alone if and where possible. She got very shy in situations where she was required to get her kit off around other people. Even people like me who she knew comparatively well.

“It’d be a stranger though, wouldn’t it?” She asked hesitantly and I fought back the urge to reach over and whip her up the back of the head.

“So? Jesus Christ Piper, we’ve all got the same bits and pieces. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be the fattest, hairiest one in there.” I chuckled, taking her by the shoulder and turning her around towards the left hand corner of the dividing wall. “And knowing my luck, the chick is probably Fahrenheit just waiting to have another shot at me for being frigid and sexually retentive or some shit.”

Piper grimaced. “Oh what, seriously? I don’t know how I’d feel about sharing a shower with Fahrenheit. She’s gay, isn’t she?”

I dropped my hands down to my hips and fought back every natural impulse to roll my eyes at this statement. “ _Yes,_ so far as I know. But last I checked that didn’t require her to either shower on her own or with the _men._ She’s still a woman, Piper.”

“Yeah, I _know_ that and I don’t have a problem with anyone being gay.” She snapped, rolling her shoulders back one at a time in what looked to me like an uncomfortable gesture. “I’m just… not particularly sure how I feel about _showering_ with someone who… you know… has an interest in women’s bodies. I mean, would it really be much different from showering with one of the boys?”

I smothered a laugh at this. “Of course it is! Fahrenheit’s a woman, so her self-control would be better by far! Could you even _imagine_ trying to shower with John, Deacon and Mac?” I paused in whatever point I was trying to make, having distracted myself with the mental image of the boys in the shower. Clearly I found John to be attractive and Deacon and Mac were also handsome and fit… I can’t say I would have minded being forced to shower with any of them. But a girl’s gotta pretend to have some class, I suppose.

Piper was staring at me, waiting for whatever point I had been about to make. Having lost track of this myself, I simply smiled, muttered, ‘Come on’ and walked ahead of her to the corner of the dividing wall. I strode about without hesitating, glancing immediately to my right to see whom we would be sharing the shower block with. I saw a flash of red hair and for one heart stopping moment, thought that I had been correct and that I _would_ be forced into communal bathing time with Fahrenheit. But I quickly recognized that it was none other than Cait standing under the mid most spray and was more the astonished to see her in here by herself.

“Hey, honey!” I called, flashing her a smile as she immediately spun toward the sound of my voice. Her own face lit up when she saw it was me. “Good for you, coming in here by yourself! You’re getting better and better all the time!”

She beamed at my praise, taking a bar of soap from the wall mounted shower caddy that had been screwed into the blue tiles. “I know, right? I mean, I know I really should have come and grabbed some of you guys, what with all that water saving shit and all that but… I just really wanted to give it a crack, you know? See if I could deal with it on my own for once?” She looked very proud of herself as she lathered up the bar of soap and started scrubbing frothy trails across her upper chest. “I just figured, if anything were to happen, you were upstairs. I know you’d reef yourself out from under Hancock if I screamed bloody murder.”

“Don’t be cheeky.” I scolded affectionately. “But seriously; well done. You should be very proud of yourself.”

“Oh, you bet I am.” She chirruped, dipping her head back under the spray of water and swishing her face from side to side. Foam rolled down over her breasts and into the curves and creases of her stomach. “But seriously you two, strip off and get your asses in here! Water feels _so_ fucking _good_.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” I said, trotting over to the wooden bench which lined the far wall and setting my duffle down on top of it. Piper did the same and the two of us went to work, fetching out our soap, wash cloths, shampoos and conditioners. We placed them off to the side and I made a point of taking out my separate garment bag; which had all the gangs combined dirty laundry inside and carried it over into the small, near adjacent laundry room. I plopped the bag on top of one of the two washing machines, so I wouldn’t go forgetting to run them through after my shower and was relieved to see that towels had been provided on a number of open shelves. A sign indicated that they were free for use; though you were responsible for washing and hanging them out to dry afterwards. What a relief, considering that all our own towels were currently in the dirty laundry bag.

I plucked out two for myself and Piper and made my way back over to where she was still dithering about getting undressed. I decided to take mercy on her and after placing the towels down, started unknotting the flannel shirt from around my midsection. I felt a hot flush race through me, remembering back to Hancock’s trembling fingers prying the material apart no less than a few scarce hours ago. The fixation of his heated, tremulous gaze; so clearly desiring to clap his eyes and hands on my naked breasts. And his lips too, of course. Those wonderfully skilled and avaricious lips…

My singlet top was still horribly clammy and the hem snagged a hold of my breasts as I attempted to reef the undergarment up and over my head. I crossed my arms over my chest, reaching my fingers down under my shoulders to clasp a hold of where the material had clumped together and formed a tight, painful band against my flesh. After a solid bit of wriggling and prying, I managed to get the stupid thing up over my head; freeing my tits so that they dropped and bounced painfully. For fucks sake… If not for the fact that John now seemed so enamoured with them, I might have been tempted to trot myself off to Dr Sun and get a reduction done. Stupid big, heavy articles they were…

Naked now to the waist, I pulled down my shorts and panties and stepped out of them, using my feet to lift the clinging articles up towards my hand. I bundled all my clothes together, placing them off to the side before gathering up my shower amenities. I glanced towards Piper, saw that she was facing away from me whilst she was shrugging off her bathrobe. She was naked underneath, which came as no surprise considering what she had been doing when I’d gone and interrupted her. I smirked to myself, amused that even after everything we had all been through, that she still had a thought for modesty.

Not wanting to make her feel any more uncomfortable than she already was, I turned and stepped up close to the gleaming shower head to the right of Cait. Jesus, not only was everything clean in here but all the plumbing looked to have been recently updated. When I twisted the taps on, the pipes didn’t even thrum and shudder in that awful way they used to go on with. It was a welcome change, I admit.

I placed my odds and ends on the caddy in front of me and returned briefly to my bag for the small vanity satchel that I kept my razor, trimming kit, toothbrush and toothpaste in. I slipped the strap of this around the extended arm of the caddy, before reaching down to twist the showers nozzles on. I used a bit of warm water to take the freezing arctic edge off of the spray and waited until it was just a nice cool temperature before slipping myself under it. I let out a long, unintentional moan of relief, surprised that steam hadn’t started to immediately rise off of my heated flesh.

Cait chuckled from beside me. “Ain’t that the ticket?”

“Oh, _maaa~aaaan…_ ” I groaned, closing my eyes and resting my hands on the smooth, blue tiles of the dividing wall. I dropped my head down so that the water could gush over the crown of my skull; feeling my hair press flat around my face as it was drenched. “That is _just_ what the doctor ordered.” I called over my shoulder. “Come on, Piper. Quit being so goddamned shy and get your little patootie in here. You’ll feel like a new woman.”

Piper made a grumbling noise as she stepped down off of the low, tile barrier and moseyed up to the shower head beside me. Like me, she kept her distance until the water was just the right temperature for her requirements; swishing the palm of her hand back and forth beneath the spray. Her other arm was pressed tight across her large breasts; doing little in the way of actually covering them.

“I just don’t get how you guys can be so confident.” She muttered; dipping her head beneath the water so that her long black hair was immediately shiny with saturation. She sighed softly; apparently just as relieved as Cait and I had been. “You just don’t give a shit about other people seeing you naked. Or vice versa.”

Cait gave a short, bitter sounding laugh. “Never really had much of a choice, did I? No one ever gave me any privacy growin’ up. And I sure as shit never got a bar of it when I was sold off to the goddamned slavers.”

Piper hissed air through her teeth; apparently sorry for having made an unintentional reference to Cait’s traumatic past. “Oh Jesus Cait… I’m sorry, I didn’t think…”

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about, love.” Cait said, her tone not expressing offense in any way, shape or form. She sounded rather relaxed and unconcerned, actually. “Just explain’ why I don’t worry so much. Besides, it’s not like any of us gets all foamy at the mouth with jealousy seeing what each other’s got goin’ on. Not that I wouldn’t slay a nun for a set of tits like the two of you have.”

“Grass is always greener, Cait.” I drawled, lathering up a bar of soap and scrubbing it up under my stinky armpits. Oh God, this was _heavenly_ after so many days of not being able to properly bathe in the wasteland. “And Piper, I suppose if I seem confident, it’s because I went to college out of state. Shared living quarters with a whole bunch of other gals. Showering together like this was pretty fucking normal for us. Not to mention that once you get pregnant, you might as well just kiss your self-esteem goodbye. It’s bad enough coming up to the birth, with all sorts poking and prodding you from every which way and then BAM-” I clapped my hands beneath the spray of water, sending spritzes of it flying like a small explosion. “- your water breaks and next thing you know, both legs are foisted up in stirrups, about eight medical students are staring your hairy, un-waxed vagina whilst making notes about your _‘avant-garde’_ dilation and your daft husband starts shoving a video camera down there like he’s shooting a nature documentary about the Grand fucking Canyon. A woman has _no_ rights to her dignity once she makes the decision to gestate life, I will tell you that for _free,_ ladies!”

Both Cait and Piper were now busting with laughter from my rant and I was glad I’d been able to lighten the mood a little. Piper actually looked as though she were about to fall over she was laughing so hard and was forced to pin her palms against the tiles of the dividing wall and drop her head down to get some breaths in.

“Oh my god!” Cait squealed, pinning the bar of soap tight against her stomach so that she wouldn’t drop it to the floor. “I love how you’re not giving us any romantic illusions about what it’s like to squirt out some nasty brat, Evie. No offense.”

I chuckled as I started rubbing soap across my breasts. They’d need a bit of attention given the amount of sweat and saliva that had been distributed across them earlier.

“I ain’t trying to fool _anyone._ Being pregnant is a crapshoot. It’s uncomfortable, painful; you get gassy and hangry and you can’t drink alcohol _or_ sleep properly. And your figure goes to absolute shit.”

“ _Your_ figure still looks more than okay to me.” Piper commiserated, raking hair out of her eyes and sighing long and low as she recovered from her laughing fit. “Jesus, _I’d_ be happy if I had a baby and came out of it looking half as good as you.”

“Well, thanks.” I said, making an effort not to do what I usually did and shoot down her compliment in flames. Hancock’s earlier words about me picking on myself had made a mark and I was doing my utmost to be gracious when someone said something flattering. “But I can’t take all the credit if I _have_ managed to bounce back okay. I was fit and strong right up to getting pregnant and I didn’t get much time to sit around on my ass and get fat since defrosting.”

“Speaking of defrosting,” Cait said, her voice taking on an unmistakeable hint of glee as she soaped down her right leg. “Quite a turn up for the books, you just sticking your tongue in Hancock’s mouth the way you did. And there you were, tryin’ to convince us like ya didn’t have the hots for him.”

“Hey, I wasn’t even sure _myself_ that I was going to kiss him.” I said defensively, washing soapy lather off of my breasts and then proceeding to clean the residual trails off my stomach. I worked some foam into each of my palms and then parted my thighs enough to reach in and clean between them. No chances were going to be taken, given what was likely to happen on my date tonight. “Right up until the moment that I _did_ kiss him. Wish I could say it wasn’t that straight forward but honestly…” I shook my head, bemused by myself. “I think I just… couldn’t let it happen so soon… I wanted to mourn Nate long enough, you know? To respect his loss, to respect the love that _we_ had. Before I could even _consider_ moving on with, John.”

“But you’re feeling ready now?” Piper asked and I glanced over to see her gazing at me curiously as she rubbed each of her shoulders with a soapy hand. Though she wasn’t a tease like Cait, I suppose that Piper cared enough about me to want to know that I was doing okay with all of this. Not to mention that she was a provident snoop by nature.

“I am.” I said, easing my lips up into a smile which felt much the lighter for the weight that had been shifted from my chest. It was a relief, you see, to finally be sharing these feelings with people other than myself and Hancock. It validated them somehow; that I had invited more of the world in and allowed them access to the deeper, secreted places of my mind and heart. “We actually said ‘I love you’ to each other. Can you believe that?” I laughed. “John Hancock saying ‘I love you’ to someone.”

“Course I can believe it.” Cait said dismissively, squirting a thick line of shampoo into the palm of her hand. She started lathering it into her hair. “Guys been nuts about you since day naught. Well… so far as the others have told me. But I had the two of ya figured it out first second I met ya. It was _so_ fricken’ obvious.”

“I wouldn’t have thought so.” I said, scrunching my nose as I slid my hands around my hips and soaped the small of my back. Cait let out an amused bark of laughter from beneath the thick cap of suds now crowning her head.

“Oh pull the fucking other one, Evie! Hancock thinks the sun shines out your ass. You just never caught him starin’ at it the way the rest of us did.” She mimed throwing up into the shower drain. “God, shit was fucking _sick!_ So far as you’re concerned, he’s a complete sap.” She swished her frothy head under the running water. “He told Deacon and meself how he felt all the way back in Outpost Zimoj-whatever the fuck it’s called. I’ve been waitin’ for the big goober to pull his shit together for _months._ ”

This was news to me and I think my expression might very well have said it if my voice hadn’t done such a profound job of getting my point across. “What, he seriously just up and told you he was in love with me? Just like _that?_ ”

Cait stared at me tiredly from beneath soapy strands of her hair; like an exhausted parent just wishing their child would fall to sleep and stop asking the same pointless questions over and over.

“Well it wasn’t ‘just like _that’._ It followed on from him nearly hookin’ up with that stupid chick.” She paused for a moment to lean forward and scrub her fingernails back and forth through her hair. Like me, Cait sometimes got a bit of dandruff and a good old scratch and massage with the shampoo did wonders for keeping it at bay. When she’d scoured her scalp to the point that I worried she might have left it bleeding, she swiped her palms down her hair and washed away the last of the lingering shampoo. Then, she continued. “Me and Deacon were given’ him a bit of a hard time for bein’ stroppy with ya earlier that night. You remember? And he told us he didn’t have it in him to hurt ya because he was in love with ya.”

“Wow.” I mused, genuinely surprised and flattered in the best way possible. If this was the time I was thinking of, then Hancock had been in love with me for… Jesus, six – seven months? And to have not acted on his desires in all that time… For a man with his lack of impulse control, this was astonishing.

“Tell me about it.” Piper concurred and I glanced over to see her interred beneath her own bubbling adornment of shampoo. She crooked one brow beneath the trickling branch that was currently teasing down over her forehead. “Don’t get me wrong Blue, _I’ve_ always thought you were pretty terrific and I can definitely see why someone would fall in love with you. I just wasn’t sure that John Hancock; Mayor of Goodneighbor was going to be the one who did! So long as I’ve known him, he’s always been such a…”

“Tart.” I concluded, smiling to see her struggle to cap of her sentence in a way that she thought might not offend me. “It’s cool, Piper. You don’t need to try to smooth off his rough edges for me. I know the man near through and through. The whole time we’ve travelled together he’s told me… damn, just about near _everything_ I think there is to know about his life. I’ve got a fairly sound idea of how many people he’s had his wicked way with.”

Piper glanced at me as she slipped her head under the spray of water. “And that doesn’t bother you? That he’s been with so many people and not committed to any of them?”

I shrugged as I rubbed soap down over my ass. “Not really… we’ve all had our romantic mishaps. And he’s kept clean from what he tells me. Which is a minor miracle in and of itself because that boy has slept with damn near fucking _every_ woman at _every_ settlement I’ve ever been to.” I took up the soap again and lathered another good helping of foam between my hands. I bent at the waist to soap my legs, rolling my eyes to myself as I felt my fingers brush against bristly strands of hair. “Besides, I love the dude to bits. I couldn’t give a shit if he slept with everybody on earth. The important thing is that he doesn’t want to be with anyone else now but me.”

“So, what have you both decided to do?” Piper asked, flipping her hair back over her shoulders and tilting her head from side to side to wash away the soap hiding just behind the shell of her ears.

Cait gave a cheeky chirp of her cheek. “And more to the point, did he finally pork ya?”

I turned and lifted my brows at her in what I hope was a particularly scathing gesture. “Not that it’s any of your business madam but _no,_ he did not _pork_ me, thank you very much. We just fooled around a bit.”

“Well just how much is a bit?” Cait queried, looking pained by my lack of commitment. “Jesus, you were upstairs together long enough. What the hell were you doing all that time?”

I decided to tease her a little. “Oh, you know. Talking about our feelings, holding hands, staring deeply into each others eyes, reciting poetry we’d written while we were apart. Drinking chocolate milk, sharing favorite passages from the Bible…”

“Oh my God, I think I’m going to be sick.” Cait mumbled, reaching out to place one hand against the tile wall as though her strength was failing her. Piper clearly saw the humor in what I said and was chuckling off to the other side of me.

I had a laugh myself as I lifted up my feet one at a time to scrub the filthy, sweaty soles. I used my finger to rub soap between each toe. “Chill out, I’m not _that_ fucking prudish. We did have a good long talk at first; figure out where each of us stood, ya know?” I smiled, more to myself then to either of my companions as I placed the soap back in the caddy and reached for my shampoo. “We’re going to make a go of it.”

“So you’re what? Boyfriend and girlfriend now?” Piper asked amenably. It was nice of her to show such interest, I thought. Especially when you consider that she’d hardly been Hancock’s biggest fan in the not so distant past.

“Well, whatever you wanna call it. Boyfriend and girlfriend, missus and ‘old man’, like they apparently call it here in good old Goodneighbor.” I chuckled as I squirted a generous helping of shampoo into my palm. Oh for the impending joy of clean hair. I gave my scalp a good scrub, working up a nice, Mutfruit scented foamy lather. “Imagine little old me; a mayors girlfriend. Gosh, I feel mighty important all of a sudden. I’ll have to start composing myself like a proper lady and everything.”

“Oh yes, because Hancock is _such_ a proper gentleman.” Piper said sarcastically, wringing a laugh from both Cait and myself. Though I was in agreement that he was hardly what one would call a ‘traditional gentleman’, I made a point of tossing a handful of shampoo at her in his defence. The frothy projectile splattered against her shoulder; which she curled in to protect herself at the last second.

“He’s always been a perfect gentleman so far as I’m concerned, Piper.” I scolded before turning to flash a provocative wink at Cait. “With perhaps the exception of this afternoon.”

Cait gave a sort of moaning grunt of annoyance and slapped the back of her fingers against my arm. “For fucks sake, would you _stop_ keeping me in suspense and just tell me what happened?”

“Mind your own business, Cait. You’re not entitled to know what went on between the two of them in a private moment.” Piper cautioned, leaning around me to flash Cait a reproachful look.

“Why not? I tell her every gnarly detail about the men I’ve fucked.” Cait snapped, shooting an equally irritated glare back into Piper’s own narrowed eyes. I swiped my hand down between them; severing the standoff before it could really gain traction.

“It’s fine. But like I said before my dear, it was only a bit of fooling around.” I returned my hand to my hair and raked my non-existent nails back and forth in an attempt to exfoliate my itchy scalp. “We might have gone all the way but John got called back to work at the last second. Some not-quite emergency down the East division.”

“Last second?” Cait said, grinning and quirking her eyebrows about in a cheeky dance as she squirted conditioner into her palm. “How last second we talkin’ here?”

My mind went immediately to those few short hours ago; of Hancock’s thick, stiff cock filling my mouth. I could still remember the taste of him on my tongue; his astonished, passionate moans as I sucked and licked at him. I hoped that the cold water would cool my skin off enough to keep my blush from leaking through.

I gave Cait a mysterious smile as I ducked my head beneath the spray of the shower. “Last second _enough,_ darling. You can bet we had some fun before that though.” I chuckled indulgently as I smoothed sudsy froth out of my hair. “I’m thinking we’ll get the rest of the way tonight. He’s taking me out for our first official date.”

“How did you find it? You know… being intimate with a… Ghoul?” Piper asked and I was surprised to hear her enquiring into the specifics of my dirty afternoon with Hancock. That is, until I remembered her own plans for the evening.

“I don’t see it as being intimate with a ‘Ghoul’ necessarily, Piper.” I said, keeping my voice soft so that she didn’t think that I was chastising her. God forbid I sounded like I was preaching down from the perch on my high horse. “It was just… being intimate with _John_. And I love John so it was easy in that sense. The most difficult part was trying to move past that loyalty to Nate. But the physical side?” I shrugged, shaking out the last of the shampoo and reaching into the caddy for the conditioner. “Nothing to it. It was… good. _Really_ good. And a goddamn relief in some ways.”

“What did his skin feel like?”

I pursed my lips, dipping my head from side to side as I cast my mind back. “Hands were a little rough… but that felt kind of nice. Everywhere else was sort of… I don’t know. Hard to describe. A little bumpy here and there. Lots of grooves and ridges… Kind of clammy when he started sweating; not all slippery like someone with… smooth skin gets. But he has muscle too and that all still flows the same way beneath his skin.” I sighed hormonally to myself as I started to rub the conditioner through my hair. “And _damn_ if that boy isn’t in good shape.”

I caught a glimpse of Piper tilting her head at me curiously. “So you _do_ find him physically attractive somehow?”

I flicked water up into her face unappreciatively. “Don’t say ‘ _somehow’_ like it’s an effort on my part. Jesus Piper.” I continued threading the filmy sheathe of conditioner through my hair, trying to muster up some patience. I reminded myself that Piper was only curious. But for goodness sake, she had lived her entire life having known about Ghouls and _I’d_ only been acquainted with them for a little over a year. Why was it that _I_ was suddenly the most accommodating and well-adjusted individual in the Commonwealth?

I tried to explain it the only way I knew how; by regurgitating my own feelings on the matter. “What you’ve got to understand honey is that when you’re in love with someone, you may see the same physical… imperfections as anyone else, but you see them in a… _different_ way. You sort of grow to love them too. Or rather, you kind of just… love them as part of the whole. If I found Hancock a repulsive man personality wise, I’d loathe everything about him – skin, hands, eyes, the whole kit and caboodle. But that’s not who he is at all. He’s a wonderful person. I find his personality more appealing than just about anyone else I’ve met in my entire life. He could be covered in pulsing oozing sores and I’d still feel the same way about him. Albeit I might have to stretch him out on a big old tarp every time we got it on.” I chuckled as I massaged the conditioner into the hair around my ears. This was where I got particularly sweaty and I wanted to make sure everything looked as pretty as possible for tonight. “But it’s not just his personality that makes him attractive to me. His skin may be affected, that’s true enough but his body is goddamned _awesome_ under all that. He’s in great shape, he’s got long legs, broad shoulders and a scrumptious fucking jawline. And I don’t care if you girls laugh at me for it but _damn_ that man has got the most _gorgeous_ bottom.”

“Hey, you don’t gotta convince me, love. I saw it for meself.” Cait laughed, giving off a low whistle of approval as she plucked her green disposable razor off of the caddy. She raised her right arm and started to carefully swipe the blade against her exposed armpit. “Still reckon the dudes battin’ above his weight range when it comes to you though.”

“Well thankyou, that’s very nice.” I said, sliding myself under the stream of cool water and sighing as it flowed down over me; washing away the last of the conditioner. It was so wonderfully refreshing after this long, hot and bothersome week of shower free travel. I think we all felt very spoilt. “But I don’t agree with you. I think Hancock’s sexy as all fuck. So to answer your question properly Piper; yes, I _do_ genuinely find him to be attractive. I think that once you learn to look past the skin, it’s not difficult to tell what a Ghoul actually looks like. And John… he’s handsome. I know you might not see it but _I_ do.” I gave her a cheeky smile as I washed out the last of my conditioner. “That give you enough of an idea as to what to expect when Adrian gets his big, gorgeous hands on you tonight?”

Cait chuckled appreciatively as she glanced around me to wink at Piper. “So ya told her than, love? Couldn’t bundle all that excitement up any longer, ay?”

Piper groaned, long and lingering towards the ceiling as she squeezed a slippery worm of toothpaste onto her brush. “Look it’s not like an official date _date._ He’s invited everyone to his place for a BBQ dinner. Kind of a house warming thing, you know? Nick’ll be there and Mac and Cait…”

I smiled knowingly as I opened up my amenities bag and took out my own razor; interring it beneath the stream of water to ensure it would be smooth enough to glide up my skin without cutting me. “Piper, honey… take it from someone who _lived_ with a man long enough to learn some of their tricks but I think inviting everyone along is just a means to an end. Adrian wants to make you feel more comfortable, rather than if he just invited you there by yourself. Obviously, he’d much rather be alone with you but he’s trying not to freak you out by being too bold off the cuff.” I bent at the waist and reached down to run the blade of the razor gingerly up my left leg. “He’ll still use this as a chance to get to know you but it’ll be in an otherwise relaxed setting.”

“Aye, so don’t you go bloody pretending like you don’t know what he’s up to.” Cait teased, twisting the razor about to groom the other armpit. Piper glared from the corner of her eyes as she jammed her toothbrush into her mouth.

“Yes, well… we’ll just see what happens tonight then.” She mumbled inconclusively from behind a mouthful of rapidly expanding foam. Her chin bobbed pointedly in Cait’s direction. “Speaking of, you managed to wrangle yourself a date for… well, this night, tomorrow night – _any_ night?”

Rather than give some bold and cocky proclamation about whichever man she had chosen to bestow her attentions upon, Cait actually conferred a rather disinterested sounding sigh. A sort of mixture of ‘don’t give a fuck’ and patented boredom.

“Got a few offers but I’m not sure I’m really interested ta be honest.” She said, pulling the skin under her arm to one side to examine the indent of the pit. Wanting to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. “I dunno. Still time between now and then. Figured I’d stay the course; see who else might rock on into town.”

“You missin’ on Travis?” I asked genuinely, thinking back to the number of times they’d crossed paths in the last year. And how much softer Cait always seemed when in his presence. The way that they’d hugged and held one another when he’d arrived at Bunker Hill; in spite of the fact that she had only just crawled out of MacCready’s bed that very morning.

Cait shrugged in an offhand manner. “Eh, whatever.” She grumbled, completing her close up inspection of her armpit before jutting up her right leg and pressing it to the tile wall. Her lips were pressed very thin and tight as she started carefully shaving her upper thigh. “If he turns up, I might do the kid a favour and give ‘im the ballin’ he’s had coming for a while now. Unless someone better turns up in the meantime, of course.”

“Of course.” I said, smiling to see her still trying to pull the tough girl act when it was so obvious she genuinely cared for the guy. I think he was the only man who hadn’t tried to get her into bed the moment he met her. Travis, in my opinion, could barely believe his luck when Cait paid him the slightest attention and made every effort not to fuck up whatever tentative thing they had going on. “And I apologize in advance for what dreadful thing is about to occur ladies but given where things may be heading for me tonight, I do believe some downstairs grooming may be required on my part. Given that my vagina seems to have fostered a fancy for the disco era in my absence.”

Cait naturally glanced down and shot a smarmy looking smirk at my genital region. “Don’t reckon a bit of extra hair would hurt in your case, love. Catch all of those moths that’ll come whistling out your twat when Hancock finally whips your legs apart.”

Piper groaned in disgust, losing half her toothpaste down her chin as I in turn gave Cait a whack up the back of her newly washed head. “Jesus Cait, fucking _ew._ Can you just _not_ stop yourself from taking this shit too far, or what?”  

“ _Anyway_ ,” I interrupted, bringing shit to a standstill before they got into it again. “I was simply trying to be considerate and give you both a warning before I start styling back my… vagina region.”

“Consider us warned.” Cait said, smirking with amusement as I gave the crease of my armpits a quick skim with the razor before placing it back into my amenities bag. I took out the small pair of silver scissors I’d purchased from a trader some months back and gave the blades a tentative ‘schnikt’.

Piper shot them a worried glance as she spat delicately into the shower drain. “You wanna be careful with those, Blue. Don’t want to cut off anything… you know… important.”

“Ain’t that the Gods truth.” I mumbled, flinching inwardly at the thought of snipping off _anything_ attached to my groin. The blades of the small scissors looked extremely sharp. “Be a pretty embarrassing thing to front up to Doctor Amari with, wouldn’t it?”

“Not even sure why you’re bothering with all this pruning and grooming and weed whacking.” Piper mused, washing off the bristles of her brush before placing it away. She then, ironically enough, plucked up her own razor and set about shaving under her arms. She must have caught my look because she gestured downward with a dip of her forehead. “Down _there,_ I mean. Jesus, if a man’s not happy with you how you are…”

“As it just so happens Piper, the cooch clean up is more for me than it is for John.” I informed her, tilting my head from side to side as I stared down at my vagina. Though the hair was all matted from the shower, it still presented a rather fearsome venture. I felt as a Amazonian Researcher might; staring a wild, untamed and unmapped jungle in the face. Armed with nothing more than a blunt machete and a dream. “Not that I think there’s anything wrong with wanting things to look tidier down there. I’m not _immune_ to vanity, you know. But having less hair in the way just helps with the… you know,” I wiggled my shoulders suggestively. “Stimulation.”

“What, you mean the – _oh.”_ Piper drawled, finally catching on to my meaning. She tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. “Does it… really make much of a difference, you think?”

“Oh hell yeah.” I said, still mulling over my plan of attack in my head. I went in from the side; pinching up a good lock of hair and snipping out a chunk. I continued with this pattern, trying to trim down the wild thatch until it was far more presentable. “I mean, think about it, won’t you? Imagine how much the hair gets in the way of… you know. The happy place. The less interference you’ve got round there, the better.”

“You’re gonna clog up the fucking drain.” Cait grumbled, staring down at the wads of hair that had perched themselves on the indentation preceding the steel drainage slot. She laughed as I attempted to thump her with the side of my foot. “Careful or you _will_ cut off something you might want.”

“Ought to be cutting _you_ off the way you make fun of me.” I muttered, spacing my legs apart a little so that I could trim up between them. Piper, I noticed, was doing a very good job of staring straight ahead at the wall whilst she finished up her own ablutions. Not that I wanted her scrutinizing my hedge trimming skills or anything. “Jesus, how awkward… much as I hated the stuff, what I wouldn’t give _now_ for a few good strips of wax.”

“You mean that thing you babes did back in the old days; rippin’ out ya pubes and all with hot, melted _candlewax_?” Cait said sceptically, kneeling down to shave up the backs of her own legs. “Don’t reckon there’s a fella alive I’d do somethin’ as crazy as that for.”

“Yeah well, I’m about to go and get itchy ingrown hairs and lumps for mine. Which I hope to God he fucking appreciates.” I grumbled, setting the scissors back inside my bag and giving my minkie region a quick inspection. It was _definitely_ looking a whole lot better now that I had hemmed away all that unruly length. But now I needed to do something about the scraggly strays; namely those areas which I’d want looking all smooth if I were to put on a sexy pair of knickers or something. Which was where the itchy, nasty bumpy business came into effect.

Piper winced and hissed out from the corner of her lips as I plucked up my razor. “Geez, seriously Blue? You’re gonna… _shave_ up in there?”

I shrugged as I used my toes to push and prod the remaining locks of hair down the shower drain. “Yup. Not much else for it. But I’ll use a brush and some lather from the soap; should help ease the process it a little. And I might just use the benchtop behind us to crook my leg up. Give you two a break from all the disgustingness, ay?”

“Only person it’s botherin’ is Little Miss Prude over there.” Cait said, shooting a smirk towards Piper which was as poorly received as her comment had been. I laughed as I took the ivory handled bristle brush from my bag and wet it beneath the spray of the shower. Once it had retained enough water, I swirled it in circles against the bar of soap, working up a good lather. Satisfied, I extinguished the flow of water from the shower head and turned to make my way over to the bench.

Only to see that a man was already sitting there.

It gave me such a shock that I yelped and jerked backwards; my heel coming down squarely in what I suppose must have been a dab of conditioner that had fallen from someone’s hand. Well it was so slippery that my foot went right out from underneath me, kicking up high into the air and sending my ass slamming down onto the tile floor. If this wasn’t bad enough, my head whacked the dividing wall with enough force to shatter my vision. Pain split my skull, fracturing hot, black dots across my eyes. I dry heaved, crashing the lids shut in an attempt to pull my rattled brain back together.

My fall hadn’t gone unnoticed by my friends of course and they reacted with the expected concern; reaching down to grab me by the upper arms, asking in stunned voices whether I was all right. And then Piper must have gotten a good look at the intruder herself, because she screamed and I heard the wet splat of her torso slam against the dividing wall as she no doubt attempted to hide herself from him. Cait yelled ‘What the _fuck?!’,_ though I didn’t feel her shift away from me or make any noticeable attempt to hide her nudity. As to be expected, she wasn’t nearly so sensitive as Piper was.

“Well,” came the oozing drawl of a smarmy, condescending voice. One that I recognized all too well. One that I had dreaded hearing for so many months but had all but forgotten about in the excitement of the afternoon. “I might be inclined to strike off half of your debt for a show like _that._ Unfortunately for you, I don’t get my kicks from lookin’ at a fat cow’s hairy snatch.”

“The _fuck_ did you just call her?!” Cait yelled and might have done more than just raise her voice if I hadn’t landed upon her wrist at the last moment and gotten a hold of it. I brought my legs together tightly and pressed my arm to my breasts; sliding my feet in so that they might in turn veil the space between my thighs. I managed to ease my eyes open against the waves of throbbing pain glancing down through the back of my skull and glared down over my knees into the cold, uncompromising scowl of Ted Marowski.

Marowski; the owner of the _Hotel Rexford_ , which was perhaps the only establishment in Goodneighbor that did not belong to John. (Though not from his lack of trying, apparently.) He was a huge, hefty bull of a man; with a physique that reminded me of a professional wrestler gone to seed in his later years. His jaw was so broad and thick I fancied I might have broken my fist on it if I ever took a good swing at the guy. And I’d been plenty tempted to in the few short interactions I’d had with him.

 By my rough estimates, I assumed that he was around mid to late fifties; though it could very well have been that his bitterness with the world had simply aged him beyond all perception. He had a mean looking mouth and a nose that scrunched up as though it wanted nothing to do with the horrible little downturned sneer that hunkered beneath it. He styled his facial hair into thin, ratty mutton chops, which meandered down almost purposelessly to join up with his equally scraggy beard and listless, tired looking moustache. It was almost like his facial hair had just given up on life.

He was an entirely unlikeable person. And I had an extra good reason for not liking him.

He had a 1500 cap debt hanging over my head.

Which was, by far, the least terrible thing the bastard had on me.

 

**_Goodneighbor – One year, one month prior…_ **

 

My first night in Goodneighbor. An uneventful affair. We had eaten, made our plans for the following day and had a quick, stiff drink in what remained of the evening. Piper, Dogmeat and I had all shared the bed; though for all the itching and discomfort the fucking thing wrought us, I’d just as soon as slept on the floor with a cardboard sheathe pulled over top of me. I’d put myself up against the wall; all the better to be able to have a little cry to myself without the others caching sight of me. Dogmeat had noticed of course and spent much of the night draped over my shoulder, licking up the tears that were flowing down my cheeks with his soft, wet tongue. His affection had only made me feel the more sorry for myself.

I thought that things might have improved once I’d killed Kellogg; once I had gotten revenge for Nate. I thought that seeing him die would absolve something inside of me; something that had been desperately crying out for absolution since the moment I saw that bastard pull the trigger on that awful gun. When he had snuffed out that little, indiscernible _something_ that had been the beating soul of my loving and innocent husband.

It wasn’t regret for my actions that kept me awake. I felt none of that. I’d left nothing to chance when I confronted Kellogg; knowing the man to be violent, unnaturally fast, strong and cunning. Though it had scared the shit out of me to do it and though the others vocally disapproved, I bullied Nick into injecting me with Psycho. A Chem I had never before and have never since taken. That stuff is fucking _insane._

There’d been so much anger, so much… confidence. And I’d needed that to get past those Synths who had flown at me from every which way. Had needed it to dismiss the burning, throbbing glare of their Laser pistols as they scoured furious trenches across my skin. Had needed it to get a hold of Kellogg before he’d been able to blow a hole through me with that big, massive tank stopper and knock it skittling like a useless old pop gun out of his hand and underneath the nearest console. And though I’d barely been able to see the bastard, what with the Stealth boy he had activated from the sling of his hip, I’d still felt enough of him to drive him face first to the ground. With his hands pinned, I’d smashed my fist into the back of his skull without remorse; squeezing the column of his neck to keep him as steady as possible. I gave him no chance to recover; no chance to jump to his feet and potentially turn the tables on me. I took no mercy, just as he had shown no mercy to my poor darling husband, who had only been trying to protect our vulnerable child from being carried away…

When the Pip Boy had snapped off, Kellogg’s face revealed itself as a bloody, mangled mess; eviscerated beyond the point of recognition from where I’d been crushing it against the floor. Everything had been a blur after that; climbing to my feet, jumping and landing my heels directly against his skull. Bones snapping, cartilage demolished beneath the kicks, stomps and punches I’d languished against what remained of his face. The others had polished off the remaining Synths and were watching, reportedly shocked and horrified by the violence I enacted against this man. According to them, I had been screaming and roaring like an enraged, rabid animal; screeching a dialect that was far beyond human comprehension. The only shot I fired was from his own gun; which I dared only to fetch after I had beaten him to the point of unconsciousness. Thank God the shot had taken off only the upper most part of his head. It spared enough of his brain for us to later salvage for inspection at this ‘Memory Den’ Nick had told me about. What we had managed to scrape together; biological and mechanical alike, was now wrapped tightly with plastic wrap and interred within a Chem cooler that Nick carried tightly at his side. God forbid if Raider’s got the jump on us and made away with it. What a shock they would have!

But I digress, as usual. I _wasn’t_ kept awake by my regrets; _that_ was the point I was trying to convey. Though I didn’t consider myself a violent person, I had wanted to hurt Kellogg _badly._ I had wanted him to suffer and I felt within myself a pain and anger so truly deep and resentful that it tapped that until now undisturbed well of ferocity that dwelled within me. If I had been to face Kellogg without the painful spurs of his past actions jarring against me, I doubt I would have been able to overpower him the way that I had done. But when you loathe someone that much, when they have hurt – no, _killed_ someone you love, there is no ability to perceive fear. At least, there hadn’t been for me. I had faced the man who had killed my strong, resourceful, military trained husband and I hadn’t felt a shred of fear for what he might do to me. All I felt within me was the crushing, irrepressible desire to do him harm. And a great deal of it.

And pleased though I was to have overcome this secreted monster of the Commonwealth, I was hit now by some awful post-revenge depression. Coupled with the come down from the Psycho, I had not been in a good way these past few days. I’d been crying a lot; though I’d done my very best to hide it. And my chest hurt with anxiety more often than it didn’t. I had panic attacks and nausea and I’d actually thought of suicide once or twice. ( _Thought_ you understand, not considered.)

Kellogg had given me _nothing_ in regards to getting Shaun back. He had only confirmed that he was in the Institute, though _fuck_ knows how I was supposed to get there. Kellogg hadn’t given that up either. He preferred to die a horrible, messy death, rather than permit me to have my child back. That bitter, hateful, _hideous_ man. I wish I could have killed him twice.

I clearly wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon, so I decided to take myself for a little walk to try and tire myself out. I wriggled down to the end of the bed, trying not to disturb either Piper or Dogmeat. Both appeared to be deeply asleep, though Dogmeat did roll over and flex his front legs straight towards the ceiling for a moment before relaxing again.

“Going out?” Nick asked, his luminous eyes staring out at me from his chair in the corner. I started a little and sighed to myself; having forgotten that Nick didn’t sleep like the rest of us. He didn’t even power down like Codsworth, who had settled himself down in a convenient, compacted ball by the dresser.

“Jesus Nick, you scared the shit out of me.” I mumbled, trying to whisper so as not to wake the others. I wandered over to the dresser and picked up my hairband; using it to twist my unruly locks into some semblance of a ponytail. I’d had long hair at that time and it was something I was finding very difficult to part with; regardless of how impractical it now was. Nate had loved it, you see and often wiled away the time after we’d made love by combing his fingers through it and tracing the waves and curls that framed my face. I suppose I _did_ cut a more striking figure when I’d been tanned and trim with long flowing blonde hair; as opposed to the short messy style I had now adopted. But a part of me suspected that Nate simply liked long hair much for the same reason _most_ straight men do; because it felt nice sliding and tickling against their thighs and cock when you went down on them.

Nick gave me a gentle, enquiring look as I finished fussing with my hair. “If you’re going for a wander, it might be a good idea to stay inside of the hotel. There are a lot of… unsavoury sorts in Goodneighbor. Especially of a night time.”

I sighed a little as I slid my boots on and wrapped a thick, layered jacket on over the sleep shirt I’d been wearing. My legs were bare down to the boots but with the coat on, only my knee and a small inch of thigh showed. I wasn’t exactly a fashion plate but oh well. You don’t particularly give a shit about these things when you were suffering depression.

“Damn… was thinking I’d take myself over to the bar… get a drink or something.” Going off of the uncertain look on Nick’s face, I realized that this was well and truly off of the cards. “Well… maybe that Clair lady’ll sell something to me downstairs. I’ll pop back up when I’m feeling sleepy, okay?”

“Sure.” Nick said, though he continued to look a little worried as I turned and padded my way back over to the door. “Just… be careful, all right? You haven’t had an easy time of things lately.”

I scoffed humourlessly to myself. “To say that things haven’t been ‘easy’ doesn’t do it justice, Nick.”

“Which is why you need to remain extra vigilant.” He stated; firmly and yet with tender care in his voice. “You’re in a vulnerable place right now, Evelyn. Emotionally, more than anything. Folks tend to get a little reckless when they stop giving a care for their own wellbeing. I just… don’t want to see you giving up on yourself any time soon, okay?”

I flashed a sad smile across my shoulder; marvelling once more at how intuitive this… man was. “Okay, Nick. Thanks, I’ll… I’ll see you in a bit.”

He gave a slow, deep nod as I pushed my way out through the door as gently as possible; staggering out the instances where it squeaked. When I was certain that there was just enough room for me to fit, I squeezed out through the gap and gently shut the door behind me.

The hall was still lit; though the overheads were dim and only lent more to the impression that I was marching my way through some cheap and sleazy out of town motel. The kind that otherwise respectable folks might have retired to in order to engage in their less than respectable activities. Usually with persons they were not married to. And far less likely to be in love with.

It was a little cold that night, though not so chilly that it made me regret having ventured out with the slightest bit of thigh showing. I tightened the long jacket about my shoulders, tucking my hands into the crooks of my elbows as I snuck my way past the other occupied rooms. From within I could hear the shifting of bodies; someone snoring with what sounded to me like belligerent determination. Another person letting off a series of farts into their sheets like subterranean depth charges. I sighed to myself, marvelling at the lack of privacy this place afforded. Talk about a flophouse.

So imagine my surprise when I saw the door ahead of me open and the familiar, red coated figure of Mayor Hancock sneak out. He moved in much the same manner as I myself had earlier; squeezing out through the gap with the boneless dexterity of a feline and gradually easing the door shut behind him. He kept the door knob twisted tightly in his palm and then manually eased it through its rotation so that it didn’t snap loudly back in its foundations.

I watched him with some amusement, feeling the anxiety in my chest lighten somewhat. He noticed me standing there and with a small smile, held a finger up to his lips; evoking quiet. I played along, pressing my index finger and thumb up to my own mouth and whipping them across to emulate a zip; which I pretended to then toss over my shoulder.

The Ghoul mayor of Goodneighbor flashed me a wink, appreciative that I hadn’t given him away I suppose and cupped his hand about his mouth. He whispered, ‘ _Sneak with me’_ in a theatrical sounding manner before pivoting slowly on his heels like a frozen ballerina in a jewellery box. He made for the far end of the hall, ever so slowly on his tiptoes; lifting his knees high and setting his feet down delicately in a comedic satire of sneaking. His arms were poised in the air beside him; palms flat and fingers stiff. I followed along behind him, mimicking his weird little walk and smiling to myself all the while. It was the first cheery thought I’d had in some time and it was especially strange considering that I had only met this man the once. And he’d scared the veritable shit out of me in the process. But this seemed sort of fun and silly and awfully endearing. Even if I was enabling him to escape the clutches of the woman he’d more than likely just fucked and left sleeping in that very room.

The mayor kept up his cartoony sneak routine until we made it to the first landing of the stairwell. He eased his arms down slowly then, staggered out an exaggerated whoosh of air and chuckled in a way that made me suspect he might have felt marginally ashamed of himself.

“Well, aren’t _you_ the sport for playing along?” He said, flashing me a smile that I somehow found the slightest bit charming. I still hadn’t quite gotten used to the Ghoul’s faces yet, so to find something appealing in them was very new to me. “It was Evelyn Hallows, right?”

“Just Eve.” I said, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear self-consciously. I wasn’t sure why, but he was making me feel a little shy for some reason. “And you’re welcome, Mayor Hancock. Though I feel kind of bad for helping you break the heart of whichever poor girl you’ve obviously just abandoned in that room.”

He had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Heh. Is it terrible of me to think that by this time she ought to be used to it?” He glanced off to the side, gnawing at the corner of his lip as he took a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. I looked at them longingly as he lit up and took a deep drag from one of the firm, sweet columns. He noticed me staring and offered the open end of the pack. “Ya want one?”

I fought against every raging impulse that was driving me to snatch up one of those yummy cigarettes and suck the absolute bejeebus out of it. Nate… he’d wanted me to stay off of them. I had to stick with my convictions on this. Like my long hair, it was just… one more way to show him my respects. To preserve my love for him. To… make my amends for what I had done…

“Oh, no thanks. I quit.” I said, not missing the unconvinced cock of his brow as he retracted the pack and returned it to his inside pocket. I guess he could plainly see in my face that I had been craving one but he respected enough to not push the offer further. Hey, it wasn’t like we were in high school or anything.

“Well, at least let me shout you a drink.” He said, pinching the filter of the cigarette out from between his lips and blowing a lovely smooth plume of smoke away from me. The smell of it still drove me nuts, even as it drifted off down the stairwell ahead of us. “You’ve earned that much by enabling a chicken shit old Ghoul to shirk his morning after responsibilities.” 

Now this was an offer I had very little interest in abstaining from and even if I’d had a mind to say no, I doubted it would have been in my interests to do so. Nick had informed me earlier that Hancock could be a good ally to have in my corner; so long as he took a genuine liking to me and I was well behaved and respectful whilst staying in Goodneighbor. He’d also warned me that the mayor was something of a womanizer; a fact I had been sceptical of considering his condition. But a fact that had just been firmly and unequivocally validated.

“Sure.” I said, smiling lightly as I kept my arms firmly crossed over the front of my body. The jacket I was wearing was big and bulky and just about as far from sexy as possible. I was aware of the fact that my legs were bare and I was wearing knee high boots but I hadn’t yet caught him glancing down and checking things out, so I thought I might have been safe to have accepted the invitation. Plus, who was to say that I was even Mayor Hancock’s type? He was just trying to be friendly and accommodating to a new face in town and where was the duplicity in that?

“Cool.” He said, flashing another of those somehow appealing smiles before gesturing down the stairwell. I preceded ahead, lifting my nose to take a whiff at the smoke imbued air as I went. “You’ve had a pretty rocky reception thus far. Hopefully this’ll help smooth things over; give you a better impression of what our cheery community has to offer.”

Yeah, itchy beds, stoned drifters and the unmitigated stink of multiple STD’s floating about unfiltered in the localized air supply. But I didn’t say this out loud of course. Talking shit to this man, I knew, was nothing short of a death sentence. I would need to tread carefully in his company; perhaps as carefully as he himself was treading whilst evicting himself from his unfavourable situation upstairs.

It made me chuckle, to remember him like this. Playful and kind of silly; keen to involve someone else in his mischief as it were. There was clearly a nice side to this man. A decent side, according to Nick. And a very likeable side, if I was to buy into half the things I heard folks around town saying about him. He clearly didn’t lack in the popularity department.

We emerged out into the main area of the hotel; where the hotel manager Clair was finishing the last of her tidying for the evening. When she saw us appear from the open mouth of the stairwell, her face creased in obvious annoyance.

“Mayor Hancock; you are the only person I know who can go upstairs with one woman and reappear with an entirely new one.” She said, with a voice so contrary that I couldn’t quite tell whether she was in fact having a genuine go at him or not.

Hancock however, took it in good humor. “Hey come on Clair, you know our agreement. Embarrassing me in front of a pretty lady just takes all the sport out of it.”

“Yes, well I’m not sure just how interested I am in helping you have your _sport._ ” Clair sniffed, scratching out a couple of numbers on a piece of paper that was pinned crookedly to the clipboard in front of her. “It’s bad enough I have to clean the sheets afterward.”

Hancock chuckled as he took another drag from his cigarette. “Now there’s no reason to be vulgar. And Mrs Hallows is a married woman, so I seriously doubt she’d be interested in any manner of sport with some old codger like me.”

“And since when has a wedding ring been any sort of deterrent to _you?_ ” Clair sniped, lifting a brow pointedly at him from across the table. “Or your age for that matter? I’ve seen you march up those steps with girls half the age of _this_ one here.”

“Jesus Clair, you’re kneecapping me here.” Hancock groaned, tilting his head back and staring toward the ceiling as though beseeching the Lord for intervention. “Can’t a guy just buy a married woman a drink without folks thinkin’ there’s something sinister going on?”

“Look, if it makes any difference, I’m not actually married anymore.” I cut in, wondering even as I did why I felt the need to amend his previous statement. Wouldn’t it be preferable to leave him to his misconception rather than encourage anything? Damn me and my need to correct _everything._ “My husband… he passed away a little over a month ago.”

Clair’s piercing expression immediately creased into one of genuine empathy and her dark eyes shimmered with the pain of recognition. “Oh honey, I _am_ sorry.” She said and I could see that she meant it. “If it helps, I know what you’re going through. My husband used to run the _Hotel Rexford_ with me. He passed away a couple of years ago.”

 _Why would it help me to know that?_ A mean little voice inside my head sneered and I quickly quashed it back from whence it came. She was showing concern, I reminded myself. Saying that she could understand that sort of loss because she too had shared in it. Never in precisely the same manner as anyone else but the heartache of loss is in itself very similar in how a body feels it. And how would it help me in the long term if I allowed myself to become hard and embittered towards the world? Might have hurt a lot less, sure. But I had very little interest in being shitty to other people.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” I said, forcing my lips into the firmest smile I was capable of. I felt my face trembling in the effort of holding the expression; the wave of grief threatening to spill out at any moment.

“Thanks. And I’m sorry for yours.” She said, slipping the clipboard into a cupboard beneath the dash and locking the door. “Now Mayor Hancock, if you want a drink you’ll just have to march on over and help yourself. Because I’m heaving my tired old bones to bed now. Can’t manage too many more of these late nights. I’m trusting you to do the right thing.”

“When have I ever not?” Hancock asked rhetorically and then, because Clair shot him a very incredulous look, added, “When have I ever _not_ done the right thing in regards to _caps_?”

“Yes, well. I suppose I can trust you with _that_ much at least.” Clair mumbled, using a cloth to quickly wipe down the benchtop in front of her. “But I’d be wary of this one if I were you, miss. Hate to see you converted into just another notch on his well-worn belt.”

“Jokes on you Clair because _I_ wear a sash.” Hancock said, making a point of flipping up the trailing end of the flag he wore tied about his hips. He then flourished his hand through the air and bent at the waist to offer her an exaggerated bow. “And now, my companion and I must take arms and weather that sea of troubles before you chose to sling further arrows of outrageous misfortune upon my good person. Adieu and sweet dreams to you.”

“Honestly, the shit you go on with.” Clair grumbled, though she wore a slight smirk which suggested that she too wasn’t immune to his charm. I was also smiling, though most likely not for the same reasons that she was, I imagine. Hancock took notice of my amusement as he led me towards the bar and inclined his head curiously towards my shoulder.

“A cap for your considerations?” He asked and I bit my lip to try and hide the fact that I was so obviously tickled. I mean, considering that most of the world had been blown to shit, it _was_ a pretty impressive feat for someone to not only _know_ of Shakespeare but to integrate some of his quotes into a sentence… It hadn’t surprised me coming from Nick but to hear it flow from the mouth of a man like Mayor Hancock; who gave every impression of being unpretentious, chilled out and quite honestly, stoned off of his gourd… Yeah, it came as something of a pleasant surprise. Guess the man wasn’t stupid _or_ uneducated. He _was_ however, slightly off the mark.

“You know the saying actually goes ‘ _the slings_ and _arrows of outrageous fortune’_.” I whispered back, crooking up the side of my mouth as he flashed me a look like a schoolboy that had just been openly chastised in the classroom. “People didn’t actually _sling_ arrows back then. _Slings_ themselves were a weapon. Like a sort of arm wielded catapult.”

“Ah… well don’t _I_ feel a wally for butchering the Bard’s great work like that.” He said, his voice so chirpy I knew immediately that he _did_ in fact know the proper quotation and had simply been tooling about with it for his own pleasure. Though he clearly felt the need to prove it, because he followed on with this: “But I am not ashamed to confess that I am ignorant of that which I do not know.”

I drew a blank on this one and blinked stupidly into the air as Hancock swished in behind the bar; as assertively as if he himself owned the place. He smiled with a self-satisfied air as he placed his cigarette into an ashtray on the bar top before leaning in towards me.

“Cicero. 106 BCE. Roman Philosopher and Statesman. Something the two of us had in common.” He waggled a finger at me knowingly before reaching inside of his coat and extracting a small, bulging satchel. He drew the plaited cord from the neck and then yanked open the jaw of the cash register; emptying an indiscriminate amount of caps inside. I don't think he even bothered to count how many before he slid the drawer shut again with a resounding 'PING'. “And you’d be _amazed_ by how philosophical a practiced stoner can be when the mood’s right.”

I laughed a little and bobbed my head in concession of this exchange. “Okay, I apologize. You clearly know your literature.”

He gave an uncaring, modest shrug as he turned then to search among the alcohol bottles lining the back of the bar. “Nothin’ ta be sorry about. I enjoy a good verbal joust occasionally. Ya might not believe it but I wasn’t a bad student when I was a lad.” He looked over his shoulder at me and flicked the fingers of one hand towards his head; as though emulating the strobing streams of sunlight. “Had one of those minds that just sorta soaked up shit, ya know? History and numbers for whatever reason. Heck of a mixture, right?”

“It’s an interesting combination.” I agreed, pulling out one of the wooden bar stools and easing my butt up onto the worn padding of the seat. The legs creaked suspiciously beneath my weight; which didn’t exactly help lull me into a state of relaxation. Not when you felt like you were about to be dropped on your ass in a pile of splinters at any moment. “History was one of my top subjects too. What was your favorite era?”

“Well, take a guess.” He said, stretching out both arms so as to formally display the revolutionary style coat that he was wearing. He gave a little laugh then, I think to show that he hadn’t been taking a jab at me. “I was always a sucker for a revolution. Didn’t matter what year or what country. The Industrial Revolution in Great Britain, the Xinhai Revolution – now _that_ was a cracker. Two-thousand years of imperial rule overthrown in the Wuchang Uprising. Damn, I would have liked to have seen _that._ The French and Russian revolutions and of course the American Revolution.” He laughed and pointed at me over his shoulder. “You ever been to that, whatcha-ma-call-it… museum place in Concord? The one that’s got all those dressy mannequins and the old voice recordings?” He emulated a thick, impressively convincing Irish accent. _“’No taxation without representation!’_ Ha, classic. Got taken there as part of some week long educational field trip when I was about… ten, I guess. Loved the place. Tried to make off with one of the dummies hats but the teacher saw the shape of it under me shirt and walloped me but good around the ears for it.” He reached up pompously to adjust the peaks of his tricorner. “Well look who’s laughing _now,_ Mr Zwicky.”

Well, I wasn’t sure if Mr Zwicky was laughing or not but I was certainly having a right proper chortle at Hancock’s story, the anxiety in my chest easing away almost entirely in the mayors company. He was far more down to earth than I had originally assumed and mighty clever to boot. Fancy remembering something like the _Xinhai_ Revolution! Just goes to show you should never judge a book by its cover. Or even by the… blurb, I suppose.

“Okay, consider me officially impressed.” I said, leaning both arms down on the bar top and crossing my dangling legs at the ankle. Hancock grinned and winked over his shoulder as he took down three bottles from the shelves; holding the necks of two between his bridged fingers.

“Well, you’re about to be _more_ impressed because not only am I a veritable font of wisdom concerning the historical uprisings of the ancient world but I can also make a mean cocktail.” He eased the single bottle back into his palm and then, with an upward glance, started to _juggle_ the three of them with a bewildering sense of calm. All the more amazing when you consider that he was most likely high as a kite at the time.

I gasped and pressed my fingers to my lips; concerned that he might have dropped one of the heavy bottles at any second but he managed to keep them all flipping about without any obvious difficulty. His eyes darted down briefly to see if I was paying attention and seeing that I was, his smile widened all the more. Boys are all the same, no matter how old they get. Watch me do cartwheels, watch me roll down the hill, watch me cook fish sticks. All they needed was an audience; someone to show off to.

“John Hancock! You bloody well stop that _right now!!_ ” Clair’s voice bellowed from the second landing and I flinched; expecting that the scolding would throw Hancock off and send the glass bottles shattering against the floor. His only response however was to stare up at her, flash a cheeky grin and stick his tongue from the corner of his mouth. Even without watching the rotation of the bottles, he was able to keep them flipping about. He made a couple of teasing ‘Whoops, I’m about to lose them!’ gestures; allowing the bottles to drop that bit lower before catching them at the last moment and hurtling them back up into the air. All just to tease and test the clearly dissolving patience of the poor Hotel Manager, who by that stage was frothing with fright and looking close to hurling herself over the railing to stop what he was doing.

Having decided that he had tormented her enough for one night, Hancock finally took mercy on Clair and caught one of the bottles in his palm and quickly transferred it to the bench top, followed closely by the second. The third, he spun about his fingers; forwards and backwards before flipping it about to land squarely alongside the other two. When he was good and certain that it wasn’t about to tip over, he stretched both arms out beside himself, tucked his booted toe behind his ankle and gave a deep, dramatic bow.

I rewarded him with quiet round of applause; not failing to miss the annoyed huff of Clair from the floor above as she turned and headed for the upward stairwell, muttering the whole way. Knowing what I know now, I think it was safe to say that Hancock had been showing off for me and Clair was well aware of it. John had admitted that he had fancied me from the moment we met, so looking back now I can safely assume that all of his actions were geared towards inviting my appreciation in turn. At the time however, I was simply enjoying his company and marvelling at the fact that I felt so very relaxed with a man who only earlier that day had introduced himself to me by stabbing to death the bastard who had been attempting to extort me at the town entrance.

“That was very clever. And more than a little mean.” I softly scolded, relieved to see that he only looked pleased by my statement and not offended by it. “You near drove that poor woman to a heart attack tossing all that top shelf about like confetti.”

Hancock laughed lightly. “They’re gonna have to rename the joint _Heartbreak Hotel_ what with all the strings I’m tugging here tonight, eh? But moving on; what manner of poison can I offer?” He asked, clapping both hands together before using them to roll each of his sleeves back. “Not to bias you but I do make a fairly celebrated Dirty Wastelander.”

“I see. And just how adept is the ‘Dirty Wastelander’ at making cocktails?” I teased, still wondering whether I needed to cap off my cheekiness before it got me in trouble. What it did get me was an appreciative laugh from Hancock as he smiled and knelt down to reach beneath the bar top.

“Heh… see I _knew_ I was going to like you.” He said, his scarred face lighting up from the glow of what must have been a small, hidden refrigerator. It went away as he shut the door, casting the creases of his skin back into shadows as he placed a sealed plastic bag with a bunch of vibrant purple berries onto the bar top. “But in all seriousness; ya don’t have any problems with whiskey or Mutfruit, do ya?”

“More of a wine drinker.” I confessed, catching the way that the whites of his eyes flashed just above the lower eyelid in the aftermath of my comment. I think he might have been rolling his eyes. “Hey, there’s no need for _that._ I enjoy a good Scotch every once in a while and a cold beer when the weather’s hot. I just happen to like wine the most. Is that so wrong?”

“Nah, ain’t nothin’ wrong with it.” Hancock remarked contrarily, plucking out a cocktail shaker from somewhere beneath the bench top. He carefully measured out a shot of whiskey and dropped this inside, followed closely by a topping of Nuka cola. I watched then as he started gently squeezing and crushing the Mutfruit in the bag; being careful not to squirt the juice out through the seal. “Ya just kinda get this impression that wine drinkers are all hoity-toity upper class twits; too mean and cheap to waste the effort it would take to spit down on the rest of us scrubbers.”

“Well, I’m afraid Mayor Hancock, that you have a very poor understanding of the definition of the word ‘class’.” I stated, watching as he now carefully drained the Mutfruit juice from the bag into the shaker; adding a couple of uncrushed berries to the mix and a few cubes of ice.

“Have I just?” He queried, sounding amused as he placed the cap on the shaker and screwed it tightly into place.

“Yes, I’m afraid you do. Real class isn’t about making anyone else feel lowly or second rate; regardless of your upbringing, your wealth, your… tastes.” I watched as he lifted the shaker to above his shoulder and gave it a good mid-air thrashing. “Real class, _I_ think, is about being good and decent to your fellow man. Showing them respect and courtesy and always practicing kindness and patience where possible. Being a… good neighbor if you will.”

Now he had definitely liked hearing _that_ and the smile that flashed across his face was as genuine as they came. “Heh… sure hadn’t thought about it _that_ way before. Makes a hell of a lot of sense, actually.”

“Of course it does. Because _I_ said it and I’ve been a wife for over seven years, so my knowledge of everything is both profound and extensive.” I said haughtily, smirking as I evoked another chuckle from him. “Well, except for Cicero and his worldly witticisms, apparently.”

“No need for a set of encyclopaedia’s when the missus knows it all, eh?”

“That’s right.” I said, leaning my arms back upon the bench top and swishing my bangs out of my eyes. I was feeling a little cocky, so I decided to push it further. “Which is why I must insist that you offer me an apology.”

“What? For making fun of you for being a snooty wine drinker?” He murmured, his lip hitching up as he poured a careful helping of the Dirty Wastelander into a pair of stout looking glasses. “Don’t be so soft, Muncher.”

Now I had no idea what the term ‘Muncher’ meant at that time but I knew quite well that I didn’t much like his tone. “I’m not being soft. And don’t _you_ be churlish, sir or I’ll sling that dirty drink straight back in your face.” I threatened, which made his eyes widen as he let out a snort of pure disbelief.

“By _god,_ you’ve got a lot of cheek.” He said, though he looked only the more impressed for my standing up to him. I did in fact take the drink that he pushed across the table towards me because refusing and or wasting alcohol was simply not in my nature. My personal convictions notwithstanding. “But far be it from me to show a distinct lack of class in the presence of a lady such as yourself so,” He dipped his own glass towards me. “I apologize for inferring that wine drinkers are nothing more than stuck up snotty nosed shitheads. I think it’s safe to say that you, my friend, are _far_ from that.”

“Well thank you. Apology accepted.” I said, smiling as I picked up the glass of purple tinted liquid and held it out towards him. “Clink it and sink it.”

“Cheers.” Hancock replied, tapping the rim of his own glass against mine. We took a moment to sip from our respective drinks. The whiskey burnt strong and harsh against the sides of my tongue and the back of my throat. The cola and Mutfruit combined offered a strange compliment that I found I really rather liked. This was a strong drink but it was _easy_ to drink. I took another sip.

“So, what’s _your_ story, Hancock?” I asked, watching as he plucked up what remained of his cigarette and dabbed free the long worm of cylindrical ash that was attached to it.

“My favorite subject.” He said, smiling as he brought the stub to his lips and took a deep drag in. I gazed longingly at the flare in the burning embers. “I came into this town about… a decade ago? Had a smooth set of skin back then. While I was busy making myself a pillar of this community, I would go on these… like… wild tears. I was young…”

I wondered to myself just how old Hancock actually was. It was impossible to tell with a Ghoul, as I had quickly learnt since coming to the town. But to say that he was ‘young’ around a decade ago, I could almost safely assume he must have been in either his late thirties or forties. Most people wouldn’t describe themselves as being young when they were in their forties. Although, given how long some of these Ghouls had clearly lived, their perception of youth might be greatly distorted compared to my own.

“Wild tears?” I asked, plucking a berry out from my drink and popping it into my mouth. He offered another of those slow, lazy smiles that I was quickly learning were a staple of his.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Drinking, sleeping around, doing drugs. Livin’ crazy. Any chems I could find, the more exotic, the better. Finally found this experimental radiation drug. Only one of its kind left, and only one hit.” He groaned with a deep, lingering satisfaction and tilted his head back towards the ceiling. Smoke trailed down in curlicue wisps from between his lips. “Oh man, the high was _so_ worth it.” He dropped his head with a sigh. “Yeah, I’m living with the side effects, but hey, what’s not to love about immortality?”

“You’re immortal?” I asked, curious but feeling I may have already knuckled upon the answer. I’d met a Ghoul named Daisy earlier that day and she had been around since my own time and still looked to be fighting fit. Clearly, there was at least some conditional longevity that came part and parcel with the severe degenerative effects.

Hancock pursed his lips and tilted his head off to the side. “Well… not exactly.” He conceded. “Ghouls just age really, really slow. Something about the rads, maybe? Who knows…”

He seemed so cool and collected about the whole thing. If it had been _me_ who had taken a drug, god forbid, that had seemingly drained almost every drop of moisture from my body and rent my skin apart at five hundred different angles, I’m not sure I could be so casual about it. Especially not if all my hair fell out. Though it might have been nice to not have to worry about my armpits and bikini line anymore but I was _still_ rather attached to the hair on my head. Ghouls didn’t even seem to have any eyebrows or eyelashes, so far as I could tell. How in God’s name did they keep all the dust and crap from falling into their eyes? Or, for that matter, how did they keep it from flying up what was left of their noses? How did they deal when they caught a cold? God, I had _so_ many questions and none of which I felt particularly comfortable asking at this premature juncture.

But to think that someone could have willingly _done_ this to themselves. All in exchange for a transitory high; a passing state of altered perception which would and _did_ eventually wear off and leave in its wake only emptiness and, in his case at least, a permanent and unflattering skin condition. It had been bad enough having taken Psycho; I was _still_ recovering from the come down off of that shit. And so far as I was aware, I wasn’t sporting any long-lasting side effects as a result. Nothing more substantial than a couple of fading needle pricks to the inside elbow.

It was hard to know whether to be impressed with Hancock’s reckless abandon or to condemn him for it. A part of me wanted to call him an idiot but it was plain to see that he was fully aware of the repercussions of his actions and had little choice now but to simply accommodate them for what they were. Railing at him for his youthful indiscretions was hardly going to win me and favors. And besides, I sort of admired him for having lived the way that he had done. Though I hadn’t been particularly interested in the drug scene myself as a teen, there had been a time when I’d been a bit rebellious. Smoking, drinking, pinching a hit of weed here and there. I used to have about half a dozen piercings in my ears, which I allowed to close over when I started working as a Criminal Prosecutor. I’d lived a very safe life in a lot of ways; hadn’t taken a hell of a lot of risks. Though I was glad I had turned out the way that I had done, I always regretted not being brave enough to have a crack at a few more things.

“Wow. You’re a hell of a risk-taker, Hancock.” I said, taking another slurp from my drink. The corners of my brain were started to fog over with that familiar, lovely buzz which made me feel relaxed and comfortable.

Hancock smiled at the compliment. “Only have one life, why not try it all?”

“And you don’t worry that folks’ll judge you for that?” I asked, wishing at the same time that _I_ could be the sort of person that didn’t worry about other people’s opinions all the time. “Being in politics and all, don’t you have a sort of… I don’t know… obligation to present yourself as…”

“What? The Christ child?” Hancock chuckled, sucking out the last tiny draw from the stub of his cigarette before extinguishing it. “Nah, ain’t like that at all, Muncher. People respect me because I don’t put myself above them. I sling and shoot up just like the next guy. I think most folks like the fella in charge to be relatable, you know? And more importantly; approachable. I’m not so scary so long as you don’t cross me. Poke and prod as much as ya like but I value respect above all else.” He shook his finger at me lightly before taking a sip from his own glass. “That’s where Finn stepped wrong. I got no patience for bullies. When folks try and lean on someone for stuff they haven’t earned themselves. That’s predatory shit.”

I found myself liking the guy more and more by the moment. First impressions aside, he seemed to have a finely honed moral compass. And he had an edge to his voice that suggested he still possessed a passion for doing the right thing; which was kind of sweet and endearing. A world as cynical as this one had clearly beaten the starch out of a lot of people and driven them towards a mindset in which they sought only to serve themselves at the expense of everyone else. Hancock clearly had little time for these sorts of individuals. Obviously. He’d stabbed a guy to death for it.

“It just seems like such a… tough neighborhood. No offense.” I said, to which Hancock raised his palm to show that none had been taken. “You’ve gotta have your hands full trying to pull folks into line all the time.”

“Well… it’s a lot better than it used to be, I can say that much.” Hancock drawled thoughtfully. He didn’t seem annoyed at my words but was simply taking some time to ruminate on them, I assumed. “Goodneighbor’s all about the people, understand? They’re freaks, misfits, and troublemakers, and that’s why I love ‘em. Everyone here lives their own life, their own way. No judgments.”

“But… surely that brings people into conflict at times.” I said, thinking that this was quite an obvious loophole in what was an otherwise fanciful way of life. “I mean, what if one person wants to live their life… I don’t know, flying kites? And another person wants to live their life shooting kites out of the sky?”

I’d been quite serious in my statement but my strange example simply set Hancock off into hysterical peals of laughter and he actually turned away, bracing his hand on the wall to steady himself. I waited for him to recover, sipping from my drink and groaning to myself as I realized that I had probably just gone and made myself look even more like a Goodneighbor neophyte than I already was.

Hancock eventually managed to pull himself together and he turned to drift back over to the bar top; his black eyes twinkling with remnants of delight.

“Oh my god, that is the _best_. Flying kites in Goodneighbor!” He tittered in disbelief, leaning back and offering a long, slow sigh with his glass pressed tight to the wall of his chest. “I can just see it now; couple of the boys out there, running up and down the stretch with a parade of pink, flowery kites trailing behind them…” He used his hand to emulate a kite weaving and bobbing through the air and then impersonated someone bracing their legs out and clenching the handle of a kite in a way that made it look as though they were attempting to tame an ornery horse. “ _’Come on son, stick to it!’”_

“Yeah, yeah, all right.” I cautioned, shaking my head at his continued teasing. “I think you’ve made it pretty clear that this is not your typical kite flying community, can we just move on?”

Hancock continue to chuckle, shaking his head as he smiled down at me indulgently. “ _’Live their life flying_ kites’… Ah… aren’t you gorgeous?”

“Yeah, I’m friggin’ delightful.” I said, ignoring his mockery and placing another nip of my drink between my lips. Not much left now. “But you still see my point, right? About the conflict that can exist between individuals who want to live their lives differently.”

“I get where you’re coming from. But haven’t people _always_ wanted to live their lives differently from one another?” Hancock said, which in itself, wasn’t a bad point at all. “Sure it can cause conflict at times but it shouldn’t mean that folks can’t just knuckle down and get along. So long as they play nice, respect one another and respect the town.”

“And the mayor.” I added pointedly, flashing an acerbic smirk as Hancock caught my meaning and winked in response.

“You’re a fast learner.”  He said, picking up the cocktail shaker and topping off our glasses. Looks like we were having ourselves a little party. “Now, enough about me and Goodneighbor. What’s your story, Eve? I mean, you show up out of nowhere, _I’ve_ never heard of you before, which is a hell of a thing for a guy that’s been around the block as much as I have and ya don’t seem to know a whole heck of a lot about the Commonwealth. You drift in from the DC Vault or something? You sure as shit don’t have a local accent.”

“It’s North Dakotan.” I said automatically and then wished I hadn’t said anything at all. I wasn’t exactly prepared to go into my entire strange life circumstances with this man right now and by _God_ there would be questions if he realized just how far away North Dakota actually was. Not like it would be easy to have travelled from such a place in this time.

And of course, Hancock just went right on continuing to surprise me with how clever he was. “You gotta be bullshitting me… North _Dakota?_ That state that used to exist all the way up the top a the map?”

“Used to?” I asked, feeling a cold worm of dread bury itself in the pit of my stomach. Don’t tell me… it couldn’t be possible that an entire state could just _disappear_ in two-hundred years, could it?

Hancock nodded, staring at me sidelong as though he were starting to question my sanity. “Well… you should _know_ , shouldn’t you? Hailing from there and all. South Dakota got itself blown off the map by one of the bombs. The Northern most state became Dakota by default. Met a Ghoul who travelled out from that way once. Said the place is almost impossible to get to because of the major blast strikes which isolated it from the surrounding states. Said they refer to it as the ‘Orphan Plains’.” He gave me another frowning, sceptical look. “Took the guy _three years_ to travel from there. And most Smooth skins don’t make the attempt because it’s almost impossible to pass through the irradiated states to the South, East _and_ West.”

So North Dakota _had_ survived the War. But had been cut off from most other American states by the bombs that fell around it. What a relief to think that my father might have been okay, if not terrified and desperate to find out what had happened to Nate and Shaun and me. My father and the rest of the tribe would have been able to survive off of the land long enough and start rebuilding too, I imagine. Our people were renowned for their resourcefulness. Though the loss of the casinos would have been a huge blow.

“Yes well, _I’m_ part Dakota, so travelling through irradiated Wastelands poses little difficulty, white man.” I jested, holding up one of my hands in a sort of ‘How’ gesture. Hancock’s eyes widened in genuine interest.

“You’re part Native American? Guess that explains why your skin is as dark as it is… And I can sorta see it around your eyes and cheek bones.” He smiled. “Nice to know the communities up there managed to keep themselves together after the war.”

He was, saying I think, that it must have been rare in this time to find anyone of any sort of direct or indirect American Indian heritage. After two-hundred years I can see that it would have been very difficult for the direct bloodline to not have become mixed in with everyone else. Especially when survival was on the table. And it’s not as though I was a hundred percent pure myself.

“Well, I’m actually only a quarter Dakota on my father’s side.” I confessed, twirling my wedding ring about my finger as I took another sip from my drink and munched on a berry that floated into my mouth. I was finally started to feel dozy. “Roughly, I mean. My Dad was about three quarters; one of his parents was half and half. It gets complicated. I lived my life split between my Mom’s side of the family, who were of distant Scandinavian descent and my father’s family, the _Yanktonai,_ who lived on the Spirit Lake Reservation _._ ” I laughed to myself, thinking back to my dear, mookish old man trying to pull me into line and learn the ways of our people. “Poor old man… he tried so hard to get me involved with the other side of the family. Take me out on all these trips and teach me the ways of the land. How to live off of it, how to hunt and how to survive. _‘Ciqala!’_ he’d scold. _‘Lift your eyes up! I won’t always be around to protect you! You must take the teachings seriously!’”_

“ _Ciqala?_ ” Hancock asked, cocking his head.

“My _Yanktonai_ name.” I explained, rolling my eyes upward a little and snorting to myself. “It means ‘small one’. As you can see, I very quickly outgrew the name. My mother wanted to give me a more modern name that I could use in just day to day life but my father was insistent I have a secondary name that I would use when in the company of our tribe.”

“Well, both Eve and _Ciqala_ are very pretty names. Much more interesting than ‘John’.” Hancock said, taking a slow sip from his drink and smirking to see how his comment had made me blush. Damn smooth talking Ghoul. “But I still don’t see just _how_ you could have made it all the way down here to Boston; Native American powers of world wandering notwithstanding.”

“It’s a long story.” I said, holding up my glass and tipping it from side to side to show off the small amount of alcohol remaining in it. “One that would take me quite a few more of these to feel like sharing.”

“Well, in your own time.” Hancock said generously and I was grateful to him for not pushing me for further information. “Can I ask what brings you to Goodneighbor though?”

“You can.” I said, lolling another helping of the strong cocktail about on my tongue. I was feeling very breezy by this stage. “My son, Shaun, was… kidnapped by the Institute. I came to Goodneighbor to do some follow up at the Memory Den. Which in itself is gonna be interesting. And messy, no doubt.”

Hancock’s eyes immediately creased on either side and the ridges of his brows dipped in to follow suit. “Jesus, that’s heavy. I’m sorry.”

“People have been saying that to me a lot.” I said, trying not to sound bitter as I spun the base of the glass around on the bar top; cheek resting despondently in the palm of my opposing hand. “Kinda hard to hang onto hope when folks don’t give me a reason to have any.”

“Hey, I’m not suggesting you oughta give up on hope.” Hancock said firmly, leaning his elbows down on the table and resting his fingertips gently against my arm. The touch made me look up, right into his eyes. From this distance, I could see that they _weren’t_ all black like I had originally thought. I could see the lines around the pupil; the subtle variations of the shade as they travelled outward. He smelt of whiskey and a sweet, subtle cologne. It came as a surprise because a part of me had meanly assumed that he would smell of rot. “I’m just sayin’ I’m sorry ya gotta be dealing with something like this. No parent should have to go through that.”

“Do you have kids?” I asked softly, distracted I think by his proximity. I hadn’t moved away though and I surprised myself with how strangely comfortable I felt at being this close to him. I still found his appearance strange and a little confronting, but I wasn’t put off by it. His personality was such a… compelling factor that it kept me drawn in against everything else.

“None that I know of.” He said with a self-mocking chuckle. “And none comin’ my way in the future, either. Not meanin’ ta sound crude but us Rad-Freaks shoot blanks from the hip, if you know what I’m saying.”

“I follow you.” I murmured, smirking as he straightened up and took another belt from his glass. I felt a tiny flash of disappointment; having enjoyed the whiff of his cologne, which is a smell I’ve always been partial to.

“How old’s your wee fella?”

“Less than-” I stopped myself there, uncertain as to how many years had passed since Nate had been killed and Shaun stolen from the Vault. It had passed in a flash for me but I had no way of knowing what year that dreadful day had been. All I could really do, I suppose, was go with what I knew to be true at that time. And in _my_ memory, Shaun had just been a baby. “- less than a year old. Eight months.”

Hancock’s brows lifted in what I took to be an expression of admiration. “Jesus… you’re just a brand new Mom and all. Fancy those bastards just up and stealing away with an infant. This is a time of his life you should be enjoying; bonding with him and all.”

Yes, well. Wasn’t like I could blame the Institute for my troubles of bonding with Shaun. Though I _had_ been getting there just before the world had been blown to crap. Being allowed to have lived out our days in the Vault or… coming alive in this new world and being a family together and safe and surviving might have made a whole new woman of me. Though I suppose that this had already happened. Just… not quite in the way that I had been expecting.

“My husband…” I continued, wondering as I did why I felt inclined to share all of this with the random mayor of the random town I was only just passing through. To hell with it. “He was… shot by the kidnapper. A man named Kellogg. I’ve been… following his trail ever since.”

Hancock’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Kellogg, huh? … Never heard the name myself. You think he might be camped out in town somewhere?”

I shook my head. “Oh no. He won’t be camping anywhere anytime soon. I killed the fuck myself. Just yesterday morning.”

“Well… ain’t _that_ just a turn about for the books? Bet he wasn’t expecting a big, bad mama bear to come galloping across the Commonwealth and tear his throat out. Good for you sister.” He gently clinked his glass to mine before taking another sip from it. He’d almost finished too, I noticed. “You doing okay with it all?”

I glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, capping someone ya got a fierce hate for isn’t always as straight forward as all that. Trust me; I should know.” He gazed down into the remaining driblets of his cocktail; eyes and mind someplace else. “There’s a weird sorta come down… like a… post-hate depression or somethin’. Hard to describe. I guess ya kinda build it up as a point of reference in your own head for so long, that reachin’ the summit doesn’t leave ya with anywhere else ta really go. ‘Cept straight back down, o’ course.”

“That’s kinda where I feel I am now.” I said, blinking back tears as I snapped my eyes off to the side; not wanting him to see. I wiped at them quickly and gave a deep, measured sigh; trying to work some control back. “Think I fell right off of that summit and straight down a big, dark hole. And I’m still falling all the while.”

He gave me a patient smile. “Darlin’, if you were still fallin, ya wouldn’t have the strength to even string two words together. The fact you’re sittin’ here, talkin’ ta me is a sign that you’re on the road to recovery.” He shot back the last of his drink and then switched on the tap in the attached sink. He washed the glass and shaker with a rag that he pulled from somewhere. “Now, if there’s anythin’ I can do ta help ya get that boy of yours back where he belongs, you just say the word. My door is always open.”

“That’s very kind, Mayor Hancock. Thankyou.” I said, smiling and then polishing off the last of my own cocktail. He gestured for the glass and I passed it over for him to wash. “And thanks for the drink. You do indeed shake a mean cocktail.”

“Hey, least I could do after you covered my retreat upstairs. Now I really must be shaking along myself or I’ll be getting an earful tomorrow from the Betta.” He flashed me a wink as he dried the glasses and placed them away. He gave a few little jaunty swishes of his rump as he navigated around the bar and headed for the motel doorway. “You go and have yourself a good sleep now, ay Munch?”

“Will do.” I said, easing myself off of the barstool and waving my hand lightly at his still turned back. “Goodnight, Mayor Hancock.”

“Goodnight.” He said, turning and tipping the foremost peak of his tricorner at me before slipping out the door to the accompaniment of some cheerful tune he was whistling. Geez, what a carefree guy. Marches into the hotel with one girl, sleeps with her, sneaks out on her, takes another girl he randomly encounters in the same hotel for a drink downstairs and then sashays out with a smile on his face and a song on his lips.

I shook my head; feeling quite honestly a little awed by the encounter. Here I had been so frightfully scared of the man; in respect to both his appearance and his personality. But then lo and behold if I hadn’t just shared the most lovely and perfectly tranquil exchange with him. Far from the ignorant, brutish and immature thug I had first taken him to be, Mayor Hancock had turned out to be clever, insightful, gracious and funny. To say nothing of his kindness and seemingly genuine interest in my unfortunate situation. And he had charm enough to just manage to get away with having snuck out on some poor girl upstairs. If only the politicians of _my_ time could manage such a delicate balancing act.

“Bad boys are no good.” I said to myself, quoting part of the involved and intricate lecture my dear departed mother had once given me concerning a roguish fellow I’d been seeing in my late teens. I chuckled as I rewrapped the halves of the winter jacket about my middle and crossed my arms over top of them to hold it in place. “But damn if they aren’t good fun every once in a while.”

I’d been feeling so cheered by my surprising encounter with Hancock that I failed to sense the danger I was in until the very last second. I’d been only a few short paces from entering the stairwell when the top of my ponytail was grabbed and roughly yanked. I shrieked as my hair tugged and tore, releasing the jacket and reaching back to try and press down on the hand to alleviate the pressure. But my attacker gave me no time to gather myself, the fingers curling in behind the hairband to grab a good fistful of hair from the back of my scalp. I was whipped right off of my feet as my assailant dragged me backwards, into the large room I had earlier glimpsed behind Clair’s desk.

My heart pounded as I was all but thrown through the double doors and up against the far right hand wall. I’d barely two seconds to tamper down the pain from this collision before that same hand coarsely snatched the hair on the top of my head and yanked it so hard I was pulled, squealing, to the tips of my toes.

A man was glaring at me from all of two inches away. A large, square jawed, hulk of a man; his hangdog jowls quivering with what anger he had bothered to repress in his spontaneous attack on me. His off white shirt stretched tight over thick muscles slowly devolving to equal deposits of fat and his dense black hair was styled into something of a lazy pompadour. He smelt of stale sweat and fresh bourbon. His cheeks flushed plump with two perfect cherry red dimples and lurid blue veins branched across his twitching forehead like pulsating strikes of lightening.

He levelled one of his huge hands at me; pointing a finger up towards my chin as though he fully intended to spear me through the eye with it. He was puffing and snorting like an angry bull; the sort of rage that I myself had exhibited when face to face with Kellogg. The problem was; I had no _idea_ who this man was and less of an idea as to why he should be so fucking ticked off with me.

“Well, well. You’ve got a lot of _nerve_ showing your face around here, _Eve Hallows._ ” He sneered, further enunciating my name as he used the hand on my head to slam it back against the wall. Pain sent splintering fragments of hot white lights across my vision.

“You want I should kick her ass for you, boss?” Said a voice from the other side of the room. I peered through streaming eyes to see a grey suited man with black hair standing just offside of the doorway; his tapered eyes already narrowed at me with great dislike. The hand in my hair tightened and I watched as the corner of my attackers mouth hitched up ever so slightly.

“You know what, Stan? I think I got this one.” He threw a glance over his shoulder. “Why don’t you take off and head home? Go and spend some time with that girl you’ve been seeing.”

‘Stan’ made a chirping, non-committing cluck from the corner of his mouth. “She asked me to stop coming ‘round, Boss. So I’s got nowhere else to be you wantin’ to put the squeeze on this no good dame-”

“I said I got it.” The big brute shot back, his voice as firm as the pointed, uncompromising stare he levelled at his bodyguard before turning a now somewhat sinister smile towards me. “No harm meant; just some shit you need to deal with yourself, eh? Just make sure you close the doors behind you when you go.”

The bodyguard gave a small nod as he set the barrel of the automatic weapon he carried tight to the wall of his shoulder. “I hear ya. Best be makin’ tracks then. Good luck to ya, missy.” He said, clearly not meaning a word of it. He turned and strode out, pulling the double doors shut in his wake; a clear signal that I needed to do some serious struggling _right the fuck. NOW._

I used my hand to push the bastards palm down hard to my scalp, knowing that this was a sure fire method to force his fingers out from their tight grip on my hair. I then shoved and ducked at the same time, shunting the hand quickly down over my forehead; hair tearing from the roots in the process. I wasted no time with recovering and leapt straight back in, intending to pin his right elbow against his body and push his upper torso away from me; which would clear the line up nicely to his kidneys. A good few roll punches in here and a palm strike to back of the neck and the big lug wouldn’t know if he was Arthur or Martha.

Trouble is, I was a little slower off the mark than I might normally have been; a combination of major body fatigue and minor tiddlyness from the cocktail I’d only just finished slurping. My attacker saw me coming and he slapped my arm down with so much force it sent my skittling forward almost onto my face. It was his fist that halted my descent, punching me so hard in the solar-plexus that my feet bucked off the ground and I was momentarily suspended. All the air rushed out of my lungs in a violent exhalation and spit splattered the floorboards, right in the spot that I shortly thereafter came crashing down in.

I lay there, crippled by pain and making every effort to try and force myself back up. He was ‘kind’ enough to help me with this, grabbing me once more by the hair and using it to pull me to my feet. He slammed me to the wall again; a decent effort, considering that I could barely physically uncurl from the foetal positon my body had forced me to adopt around my injured stomach. Bile rushed, hot and acidic from the back of my throat and I heaved, sending it curdling down over my chin.

“Don’t you even _think_ about getting that shit on me.” The man hissed, wrenching my head away from the wall and forcing it down so that it now hung suspended. Another dribble came up out of me and I spat it onto the floor, moaning and sobbing; my eyes blotted and blurred with tears.

“What… the hell do you… _want with me?!_ ” I finally forced out, swiping at my chin before pinning my hands back against my poor, compacted stomach. My head swirled in and out of comprehension; muddled by pain, alcohol and exhaustion. I might very well have been on a spaceship, my senses were so distorted.

“You know _exactly_ what this is about.” The man’s voice replied, with a tone that might have been cold if there wasn’t such bitter, trembling fury rolling ever so obviously beneath it. He was like vinyl with air pockets caught within; smooth in some places but burbling unevenly up in others. “I’m _Marowski._ You know; the guy you _stole_ from not two weeks past, bitch.”

It came flooding back immediately. Diamond City. Paul Pembroke and Henry Cooke. An extra-marital affair. Paul approaching me in the market place and begging for my support in confronting Henry; to insist that he leave Paul’s wife Darcy alone. The deal that Henry had offered the two of us in turn; a chance to make a _whole_ ton of caps. Caps that would benefit all of us greatly; allow Paul to treat his wife occasionally so that she didn’t feel compelled to run off to the Upper stands every five minutes. Line Henry’s pockets nicely and get me some ordinance that I so desperately needed before embarking on the next leg of my journey across the Commonwealth. It was a win-win-win situation.

The job had sounded straight forward enough; if not entirely terrifying in execution. Ambush a Chem deal between one of Diamond Cities stuck up little elitist rich kids, Nelson Latimer and a bunch of lackey’s belonging to someone from Goodneighbor called ‘Marowski’. At the time, I hadn’t known much about Goodneighbor and absolutely nothing about whoever this ‘Marowski’ was. But Henry Cooke gave me every assurance that we would be able to wriggle out from underneath the sabotage scot free and laughing. So long as there weren’t any witnesses.

I’d done the job with Codsworth and Dogmeat; my only two travelling companions at the time. Paul had taken the Chems and I’d taken the money. Henry hadn’t taken a cap; considering it recompense for having carried on the way he had with Paul’s wife. And then he had taken off to parts unknown; leaving the Commonwealth for good, so he had explained to us.

I had then made my way further into the city, taking along some information provided to me by the ringleader of Marowski’s goons; a female Ghoul by the name of Trish. (A woman I had assumed was a severe burn victim at the time). Her forcefully extracted directions led us to a hidden room behind which we uncovered Marowski’s Chem lab. After swiftly dealing with the workers we found inside, Codsworth and I had stripped the place for all it was worth before sabotaging the equipment being used to produce the Chems themselves. (Yeah… I was _quite_ the goodie-goodie back then).

A good deal at the time and one I had felt had been very productive. The caps had been crucial in setting me up for whatever challenges came next. I’d been able to purchase clothing, food, supplies and two new guns – a 10mm Pistol and a .50 calibre Hunting Rifle and all the munitions required to keep both weapons fully stocked for the distant future.

I hadn’t regretted my decision to get involved in the slightest. Until _now,_ that is.

Marowski must have taken my silence as an admission on my part, or else he saw the look of recognition in my eyes because he reached up now to roughly cup my chin from below, his fingers pressing into the mounds of my cheeks.

“Yeah… looks like it’s coming back to ya. Those were _my_ Chems you took when you ambushed Trish. _My_ Chem lab you robbed and junked.” He hissed, his ragged fingernails near piercing my skin as he tightened his grip on me. His breath was thick with the pungent stink of alcohol and from the corner of my vision, I spotted a near empty amber bottle perched on the far side of his desk. “But I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt; so far as your intentions on the matter are concerned. Maybe you didn’t know who you were stealing from, eh? It happens.”

“Please… you’re drunk.” I managed to gasp out, grabbing him by the wrist and trying to pull his hand away from my face. He responded by slamming me against the wall again, sending my already mooshy brain crashing about my skull with impunity. “Ah! Just – _stop!_ I don’t… _I didn’t have anything to do with it!!_ ”

“Oh, you fucking little liar.” He snarled back, pressing so hard into my cheeks I thought he meant to snap away the lower half of my jaw. The pressure was so bad, I honestly believed that it might unhinge at any second. “Here’s a tip for you, _sweetheart._ When you steal from someone, _don’t leave witnesses._ Makes it _real_ easy to figure out who did it.”

Of course; _Trish_. The duplicitous little bitch. I’d spared the woman’s life from Henry Cooke in exchange for the information concerning the lab and her abject _word_ that she wouldn’t speak a snifter of what had occurred to her boss. And here she’d gone running straight back to him and told him everything. Having included a fairly accurate description of my appearance as well, it seemed. Marowski must have recognized me the moment I’d walked in the _Hotel Rexford._ And must have been waiting since then to have it out with me. My coming downstairs with Hancock earlier had afforded him the opportunity to get me alone and in a vulnerable position.

How god damn _stupid_ of me. Nick had warned me of how dangerous the town was and I’d still wandered off without taking a weapon along for insurance. And now I was likely going to pay for that stupidity with my life.

“I’m sorry.” I said, wondering whether a genuine act of contrition might absolve him of some of his fury towards me. “I _was_ involved in ambushing Trish but I didn’t… I had no idea who _you_ were. I didn’t know…”

This response genuinely seemed to please Marowski and his flushed, doughy face softened a little. The fingers on my face stopped gripping me so tightly.

“Yeah… that’s a good start.” He said, an edge of satisfaction leaking into his tone. He tilted his head a little; studying me and his thumb moved over to push to the crease in my chin. He used it to lift my face, causing my still only tentatively healed scar to throb angrily. “So, here’s the deal. You pay me… five thousand caps, and I’ll forget this ever happened. Just once.”

He might as well have gone and shoved a red hot iron pole through my brain, the shock of hearing that was so severe. _Five THOUSAND, caps?!_ I didn’t have that sort of money in the _bank_ when I’d been a busy, high price lawyer; let alone here and now as a jobless, clueless drifter.

“Five thousand caps?!” I choked out, hoping that I’d simply managed to mishear him at such a tiny distance. His smug nod only confirmed my fears. “But that’s… that’s _impossible!!_ That’s _way_ more than those Chems were worth! Be reasonable!”

“This _is_ me being reasonable.” He growled, low and sinister as his face moved in so close to mine I could near feel the brush of his cracked lips against my own. I tried to twist my head away but his thumb kept me firmly locked in place. “Those Chems on their own may not have been worth five thousand caps, true enough. But you knocking over my lab, sabotaging my equipment and sending my profit margin back by _months?_ You can be damn sure that you don’t owe me a cap less than five thousand for _that._ ”

“Goddammit… I don’t have that sort of money!” I exclaimed, my heart palpitating so madly in my chest that I feared a panic attack might take over at any moment. “If I did, do you think I would have done what I did in the first place? I’ve _spent_ everything I got – I don’t have a cap _left!_ ”

“Is _that_ how it is?” Marowski jeered, his tone a study in mock commiseration. “Well, if that’s the case, I hope you enjoy the thrill of having to watch over your shoulder every minute of every day. Because that’s what you’ll be doing, you walk outta this town with that debt still hangin’ over your head, honey. I’ll have every one of my Triggermen tail you from dawn until dusk. You won’t sleep a wink, won’t have a quiet moment without one a my boys bearin’ down on you.”

This was enough to stop my heart from beating entirely. Jesus God… was this man really so powerful that he could orchestrate something like this? Enable it so that I could never be at peace? Could never focus all my undivided efforts on rescuing Shaun, for the constant distraction of some militant hitman constantly pursuing and haranguing me? Not to mention the harm they could potentially bring to the people I was travelling with. All because of my stupid debt… I _couldn’t_ do that to them. I had to be practical. How could I ever do what I needed to do if I was constantly casting glances over my shoulder all day every day?

I’d never trust myself to go to sleep. It was bad enough walking about out there with Raiders, Gunners, mutated beasties and Super Mutants constantly posing a threat. Allowing for a swathe of vengeful hitman to be thrown into the mix was just… moronic. I couldn’t, in all good conscience, allow this to happen.

But the fact remained that I _didn’t_ have a cap to my name. I didn’t have a job and nothing really to sell.

“I… I’ll need time to get the caps together.” I babbled, my fuzzy mind trying desperately to pull itself together and formulate some plan of action. “Please just… have some compassion. I have a son… he’s been kidnapped and I need… I need every cap to go towards rescuing him.”

Marowski’s lips wrinkled into a smile I wasn’t sure I either liked or trusted. His fingers knotted harder and tighter into my hair; ensuring that my head lacked any sort of manoeuvrability.

“Hey, we’re not short on compassion here in Goodneighbor.” He drawled, his voice a pretence of pleasantry that had no intention of being carried forward into practice. “Tell ya what; since I’m such a compassionate guy, I’ll just go ahead and knock a thousand caps off the debt. But you gotta do something for _me_ first.”

I didn’t have a chance to reply before he ploughed his lips into mine; his tongue thrashing inside of my mouth like an enraged eel trying to flee a fisherman’s grip. I shrieked, twisting my head to try and free myself from his hands; shouting ‘Stop!’ as his lips finally lost their grip on my own. The hand on my chin had dropped down and was busy wrenching about the halves of my winter jacket, his fingers here and there in an attempt to pop apart the buttons of my sleep shirt. When I made a move to stop him, the hand in my hair jerked back; slamming the crown of my head to the wall again.

“You don’t get nothing for nothing, honey. That’s _not_ how we do business around here.” He jeered, staring me right in the eyes, daring me to object, as he continued to work his way down the shirt; freeing buttons as he went. I gasped and went rigid as his big hand found its way inside and squeezed my breast. “You just say the word you want the alternative, huh?”

My eyes flooded with tears; imagining the trade-off that would be required to free myself from this awful situation. A future of never again feeling safe, of perhaps never being able to rescue Shaun at all. Being killed because I’d been too proud, too good to allow my body to be used in place of money I didn’t have.

I had to be _practical._ This wasn’t a world of fairy tales; where everything would culminate in a happy ending that had required no sacrifice on my part. I was hardly some virginish princess; flinching at the touch of a man’s hand. Clearly I’d had sex many times before in my life; this would hardly be the first or the last.

If I just… went away somewhere in my head… it wouldn’t be so bad, right? If I just…

Marowski must have taken my silence as consent because the next thing I knew, _both_ his hands were up inside my shirt. They grabbed and mauled at each of my breasts in turn; squeezing and pinching the nipples so roughly I almost bit through my lip from the pain of it. He was having a good look as well; using his forearms and wrists to keep the halves of the shirt from closing over and affording me some dignity.

“Least you got _somethin’_ worth lookin’ at up here…” He muttered, trying to make the comment sound offhand. His voice however was thick with lust and his pants jutted out fiercely in proof of his intentions. “Better than starin’ at your ugly face, anyway.”

The fact that he was doing this to me was bad enough but to _insult_ me as well? My anger curled up in my chest and before I had really considered the repercussions of what I was doing, I hocked what saliva I could muster towards the front of my mouth and spat it directly into his own ugly, leering face. The projectile hit him square on one of his quivering jowls and slipped down into the crease that rode just over his broad chin.

As you can expect, Marowski didn’t react well to this and the next thing I knew, the back of his hand was whipping so hard across my cheek that I felt it pop the air from the joint in my jaw. I gasped, would have gone stumbling to the floor if he hadn’t grabbed me by the hair again and steered me over towards the desk. He shoved me down onto it, my stomach and unguarded breasts taking the full brunt of the impact and sending a violent shudder through the wood that overturned the booze bottle. It rolled over the edge and clanked loudly to the floor; no doubt spilling its remaining fluid innards onto the wooden boards.

“I should _double_ your debt just for that, bitch.” He snarled, pressing one hand to the back of my head and using it to force my cheek into the wood grain of the desk. I sobbed, my fingers quivering uselessly on either side of my face as I heard him fussing about with the clasp of his belt. The zipper came down. “Lucky for you; old Marowski’s feeling magnanimous today. So we’ll just go ahead and pretend that didn’t happen, eh?”

“Please…” I begged, tears streaming down over my cheeks as I felt him flip up the back of the jacket and the shirt tail. There was a schnicking sound of a switchblade opening up and I thought for one dreadful moment that he was just going to go ahead and stab me in the back. And then I felt the coolness of the blade slide up against my left thigh. It tore apart the side of my panties and then moved over to divide the right. With nothing left to secure them to my hips, the mutilated material dropped down and fluttered to the floor between my feet.

I felt the cool air on me. And then, I felt _him._ He entered me in one big, merciless stroke, forcing a shriek out through my crumpled lips. I clenched my fists, eyes bulging, unprepared for the pain of his intrusion. He was _huge_ and dry and he hadn’t bothered with preparing me at all. I could feel myself tearing apart on the inside as his second thrust battered me; smashing my groin so hard into the sharp corner of the desk that I dry heaved.

“Please – please it hurts! It _hurts!_ ” I moaned but he paid me no mind, continuing to pound away to the benefit of no one but himself. I could feel wetness surrounding where that huge _thing_ of his was impaling me; some of which had dribbled down to catch in the crease of my inside thigh. Blood; it was the only thing it could be. I certainly wasn’t enjoying it enough for it to be anything else.

He was groaning and swearing as he railed me; his other hand hooked beneath my hip to try and keep my ass elevated. It was horrible. I cried the whole time. I beat the desk and sobbed and scratched and curled my toes together so tightly against the floor that they ached and throbbed when I finally had a chance to relax them.

What I never did, however, was tell him to _stop._

And there was nowhere that I could go to, far enough away in my mind, to escape the shame of that.

 

**~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi everyone, glad to see you made it. Not going to lie to you, this is probably the scene that I have been dreading writing for the longest time. And unfortunately, mainly for me, it only continues through until the next chapter. So yeah, fun times await. My poor little Evie. God, how I hated doing that to her.
> 
> You may be a little confused that this sort of thing occurred and that Eve fails to personally reference it in her chapters. She also implicitly states at one point that she has never been raped whilst in the Commonwealth. It’s explained a little more in the following update but I’ll make a point of highlighting it now, since I’m know you guys are all clever enough to notice the inconsistencies in regards to this.
> 
> 1.) Eve does not classify what happened between herself and Marowski as rape. Why is this? A number of reasons. One; because of the horribly high standards that she has for herself. Her inability to reconcile the fact that she was so weak, vulnerable and confused at that time in her life and that for all her training and strength she couldn’t prevent this thing from happening to her. Another fact is that she is very, very good at compartmentalizing. Denial is the only way she was able to endure after Nate’s murder and Shaun’s kidnapping. Eve is a fairly innocent person in some ways and the only means through which she can continue to soldier on, is by sort of tricking her mind and body into believing that certain things haven’t happened. She makes no reference to the assault in her earlier chapters because they are written from her point of view and Eve is invested in keeping this memory locked away. Even you, as the reader, will have no means of knowing that this has occurred. A traumatized mind chooses only to accommodate that which it wishes to do so. 
> 
> The main reason that she does not consider herself to be a rape survivor however, is because she believes that rape would only apply if she had told Marowski to actually stop. In her own mind, she gave consent through not denying him. She simply couldn’t see another way out. Eve had been in this world less than a month; she didn’t know enough about it and certainly didn’t know enough about Marowski to inform her decision on the matter. Not to mention that she was intoxicated, suffering from severe depression and Post-Traumatic-Stress. About as vulnerable as a person can be.
> 
> In short, Marowski preyed on that. And the Eve who is telling the story from the current time, who is recovered and in a healthy state of mind, recognizes that. And resents herself for what she feels she allowed to happen. She refuses to grant any power to Marowski by classifying his violent act against her as rape. Though of course, if the act is perpetrated through bullying and coercion, there is no justification for it. Or any other classification besides rape.
> 
> 2.) Marowski as a character: Just from a personal standpoint; I always thought he could have been utilized a lot more. I always saw him as this seething pit of bubbling resentment; just waiting for any opportunity to undermine, disrespect or harm Hancock and his regime in some way or another. Since the day of the coup, I imagined him just biding away his time and… building up his resources. But in the game, nothing really. He was just a sad, sorry, down on his luck punk. So, I took some creative license and drove him closer to the edge; made him a lot more angry, cruel and unstable. Again, I know that this does not seem very much like the Marowski in the game. I just took some of his lesser qualities and extorted them.
> 
> Sorry for the bloody essay folks! Again, a lot of this comes to light in the following chapter, I just didn’t want to leave you all with the impression that I had contradicted myself earlier. I assure you, everything is intentional! Most points all link up at some point.
> 
> If you enjoyed, please take the time to leave a comment or kudos. Comments are nice, because I like to see what folks are actually thinking or wondering. Clearly I’m very full of my own self-importance so this shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone! 
> 
> Take care wherever you are in the world and once more, if the content of this chapter has distressed you or triggered anything off, I am so very sorry for what it is worth and I am sending you all the hugs and kisses I can muster up! Take the time to take care of yourself if you are troubled; talk to someone about these things, eat a whole tub of ice-cream and fill your mouth with whipped cream from the can. I’m going to treat myself now to my customary, celebratory glass of Ruby Pinot. Hey, why not do all of these things just for the hell of it? 
> 
> Thankyou my darlings and in a day or two, I’ll continue polishing off the last of that second part. I pray I won’t leave you hanging long, I most honestly do! 
> 
> All my love,  
> ~ MadamMortis~ xxx ooo


	12. The Shuddering Brackets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the longest while, I simply lay there; buried deep within a buzzing cloud of wretchedness from which there seemed to be no escape. There’s no context to misery like that; no thought to how you might appear or concerns for trying to formulate some strength. I curled my arms up around my head, buried my face into the crook of one elbow and smothered down the howls of despair that might have otherwise brought the roof down on top of us all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Fallout 4 and its characters are the property of Bethesda and I am not making any money out of whoring out their characters. I promise. Although I could possibly earn a mint if I sent Hancock out wearing his sexy little Snowman G-string? Hmm... future prospects to consider, maybe?
> 
> Hello my beautiful Fallout 4 loving darlings! My love and kisses and uncomfortably over enthusiastic cuddles out to all of you, as per the norm!
> 
> Now, what possible apology can I offer to all of you; for such a delay in this following chapter? Well, perhaps a three part update will suffice? Yep, this bloody behemoth has turned out to be a long, taxing marathon to say the least and I wish that I could be more the eloquent in this opening note but alas, it is very, very late/early where I am right now and I am so fookin exhausted. In long story short; you guys got three chapters to read. Yay! Or something. I dunno, it may not be all that exciting and it seems like it shouldn't have taken so long to write. But I promise that it did!
> 
> But as usual, thankyou all so much for reading and for those among you who take the time to comment and chat with me about my writing! It's such a privilege to have such wonderful people enjoying the work and I hope that as usual you enjoy these next three chapters! I shall save my closing comments until after the final instalment because otherwise, I will never get around to signing off!
> 
> Warnings for the following three part update are as follows: Explicit non-consensual sex scene, explicit content, language, violence, nakedness in the shower (again, no surprises. It's a staple of mine) alcohol, Chems, Ghouls, face paint, Christmas, baby Jesus and mistletoe. Gosh, I cannot wait for the next two chapters when I can finally get back to writing some proper, non-angsty Hancock and Eve smexy-ness. I swear I've had that lemon chapter in reserve FOREVER.
> 
> Anyhow, I shall catch up with all of you darlings at the end of the third part update! See you there and good luck my darlings!
> 
> All my love  
> ~MadamMortis~ xxx ooo

> “ _We repeat, what we don’t repair.” **~ Christine Langley-Obaugh~**_

 

** Evelyn Hallows **

**_Goodneighbor – One year, one month ago…_ **

**_The Hotel Rexford…_ **

Time and time again, during our travels across the scorched earth of our once great nation, my friends have made mention of the facets of my supposed ‘better nature’. Their belief that I am a ‘good’ and ‘noble’ person because I do not judge others unfairly.

But there is a method to the madness.

The reason that I don’t judge, is that I myself do not wish to be judged. I feel that if I grant this courtesy to others, that they in turn will have lenience towards me. Or, at the very least, I won’t be deemed a hypocrite for forming an opinion about someone’s own misgivings.

Doesn’t mean that I don’t possess these opinions.

Doesn’t mean that I don’t judge.

There’s a lot about me to dislike. A lot about me that _I_ dislike. I want to protect the people around me from seeing that; let them imagine me in that idealistic, beautiful glow for just a little while longer. Before the cold hard hammer of reality comes smashing through it with impunity.

It was better than seeing the me who had been at her very worst in Goodneighbor that long year ago; bent over some piece of shit table, shrieking and sobbing whilst letting herself be fucked senseless by the two-bit thug she’d made the mistake of robbing a few weeks back. All without putting up a fight. Just crying like some pathetic, brow beaten little bitch and wishing someone else would come along and fix what I was too gutless to try and repair myself.

All the worse because Marowski apparently hadn’t been so drunk that he’d neglected his common sense concerning pregnancy. It must have occurred to him that a baby, whilst likely easily dismissible in this world, was better to be avoided entirely. So towards the end, he pulled out and tried instead to jam himself up my ass; likely where he felt he could offload without fear of knocking me up. This was where I did scream, ‘NO!’, only possible because he hadn’t been able to get himself in there properly; due to lack of lubrication on my part. Ironic considering how much of a mess I was everywhere else; my face saturated by tears and snot and dribble, my inside thighs slick with a combination of blood and… god knows what else.

Marowski’s hand slammed the back of my head, pushing my face harder into the desk as he used his other hand to position himself all the more firmly between the cheeks of my bottom.

“Only one hole I want open right now, bitch. And it ain’t the one on your goddamned _face._ ” He snarled, pressing forward with his hand and then driving into me with his big, solid hips. He’d been too big for me before but going in _there…_ Oh God, I’d only ever had anal sex twice in my lifetime. Once with Nate (having been very drunk and on my period at the time) and once with a previous, much more sexually adventurous boyfriend in my teen years. I hadn’t enjoyed it either time and this had been with the aid of a great deal of lubrication and prior attention. But this… Christ there was _blood_ and mess and whatnot but it wasn’t enough to make it any easier.

He went in there the same way he had my vagina; only worse. The tearing and pain and unnaturalness was excruciating; flavoured still more by the shame and humiliation I felt. He moaned obscenely as I shrieked and writhed; trying to pull myself further along the desk to get away from him. But he wouldn’t let me. Old and withering though he was, Marowski was still massive and strong; even compared to someone fairly big and strong herself. He would let me ease myself away an inch or two and then slam me back down to the root of his cock; further splitting and tearing the inside of me. I yelped with every thrust and stabbed at his feet with my heels, managing to catch his toes a few times. “Stop! _STOP IT – NO!!”_ I sobbed, but for all the good it did, I might as well have saved my strength. All it got me was my cheek smashed harder to the desk and a couple of insulting slaps to the ass.

The pain from the rectal assault was up there with the worst I had ever experienced. Perhaps not on par with child birth but it was the humiliation which added that extra sting. At one point, I remember screaming in my mind; ‘ _Nate, help me!! MAKE HIM STOP, HE’S KILLING ME!!’_ but receiving no answer, of course. To think that my wonderful departed husband might have been sitting up there somewhere, seeing this happen… It only made the pain greater in context. No man wanted to see the woman he loved suffer like this. Nor did I wish for him to witness my shame; especially in light of the fact that he had been such a strong, courageous man herself. He’d never be the type to let himself be beaten, blackmailed and… whatever this was.

It was almost a relief when Marowski came, because it meant that the thing was done with. But I hadn’t wanted _anyone_ to _ever_ ejaculate up… there. Not to mention that he had pulled out in time to distribute a good splattering to the cheeks of my ass as well. I could feel rancid heat through my bared flesh; intermingling fluids traversing down to follow the flow of blood that slavered the plains of my inner thighs. I felt throbbing emptiness in the wake of his withdrawal and when his hand left my hair, I was able to finally peel my face from the desk. My bruised jaw hung limp, as though it were dislocated. Jarring, fractured sobs oozed out from between my teeth. There are no words to describe a feeling such as that; such… _defeat._ To have trained for so long, to have become so physically strong and powerful and confidant to just as simply… have it all stripped away.

“Y-y-you… h-hurt me you b- _bastard_ …” I sobbed, barely able to form words because I was trembling so hard. It didn’t help that my lower lip was swollen from where he had earlier struck me. “You didn’t have to… h-hurt me…”

I got a hard swat on the ass for my efforts.

“You didn’t have to… steal my shit or kill my men… but there you have it.” Marowski puffed, retrieving his left hand out from under my hip. I immediately reached back to tug my night shirt down over my bottom but he took a hold of it before I had a chance and used the material to wipe his dick off. I tried to pull it away but he cuffed me roughly across the back of my head; exacerbating my already agonizing headache. I reasoned that fighting now was simply a lost cause but it sure didn’t help my conscience rest any easier.

When he was finished, he dropped the material so that its dense wet weight draped heavy against my ass. I slid down from the desk, my trembling legs no longer in possession of the strength required to keep me standing. I’d left gouges in the wood and several of my nails had snapped and splintered down into the pink.

Everything seemed to burn of agony but nowhere so badly as down below. Every cavern of my body flared with venomous anguish and I was forced to drop onto my hip, to keep the weight off of my injuries. My hair, loose from my lazily tied ponytail, swung down on either side of my tear streaked face like curtains closing across the stage of some insipid Greek tragedy. Tears hung suspended from my chin like condensation upon the belly of a leaf in a cool Spring morning.

“You got one week to get the remaining four-thousand five hundred to me.” Marowski grunted, seemingly unaffected as he zipped his fly in the background. His words broke me out of my blistering misery long enough to turn and gape up at him.

“Four-thousand five hun- You said you’d take a th-thousand for what you just did!!”

His lips twisted meanly down at me, near pushing what existed of his moustache up his pug like nose. “I don’t pay good caps for dud roots, honey. Five hundred’s all you get.” His nasty mouth twisted up, body lurching with a derisive scoff. “Think a dried up old cunt like yours is worth a thousand caps a bang? You’re lucky to pull more’n fifty.”

I lunged at him, anger and grief welling up inside of me to form a furious tidal wall. I tried to grab his leg, intending to drag his feet out from under him and throw his massive body onto the floor so that I could beat the ever loving shit out of him. But as the saying goes, the flesh is the failing of the conviction and he was able to sidestep my weak attempt and drive his boot up under my chin instead. My teeth clacked together violently and the joints in my neck popped as I was flung backwards; the crown of my skull smashing the lip of the desk. Pain and nausea broke through the swelling tide of emotion inside of me; like twin islands thrusting violently out through the frothing surf. I toppled onto my side, clutching my face with one hand and curling my knees up into my chest. The strain made my insides ache and splinter and bloody mucus matted to the backs of my boots as they tucked under my rump. My sobs turned to full on bawls.

“Oh Jesus, you’re _so_ fucking pathetic…” Marowski groaned, his voice flush with irritation as he lit a match and held its flame to the half stogie he now clutched between his teeth. The rancid stench of body fluids was quickly overwhelmed as harsh, nostril flaring cigar smoke filled the room. Marowski took a few contented puffs before reaching out to nudge me with the toe of his shoe. “Make sure and clean up your shit before you leave. I see any of this mess when I come in tomorrow mornin’ and I’m addin’ it to your tab.”

He walked to the left hand door but appeared to then change his mind about leaving. My aching body tensed as he walked behind his desk; easing open a small drawer which squeaked in its foundations. A moment later, he was back at my side.

“Let’s see here…” He murmured, more to himself than to me as he reached down with both enormous hands. I flinched away, using my arms to drag my hip along the floor in an effort to escape. A doomed effort, given my sad and sorry condition. He caught me easily, grabbing my wrist and yanking it up to where he could snap something cold and hard against my flesh. Horror flooded my senses as I realized that it was one half of a set of handcuffs and I tried to keep my other hand out of his reach; flailing and twisting it above my head. He stamped hard on my stomach, shooting the air out of my lungs and pinning me in place long enough to get a hold of my arm, which he pulled closer to the leg of the desk. He fed the handcuffs through from the other side and latched my wrist into the opposing circlet, effectively binding me to the desk.

“Stop it!! Stop it, you’ve done _enough!!_ ” I croaked, blood and saliva swirling inside of my mouth and bubbling out onto my chin. “I’ll fucking _scream_ , you bastard!!”

“Scream all you like.” Marowski sneered, not taking the slightest notice of my threats as he reached down and pulled apart the halves of my shirt and jacket. He exposed my naked body, all the way down to my boots. “Won’t stop my boys chasing around after you from now ‘til Kingdom Come. You want a peaceful life?” He yanked my hairband out entirely and sneered down into my mortified features. “Then you’ll keep your damn mouth _shut. I’ll_ decide when you’ve done enough, bitch.”

He picked up my torn panties from the floor and used them to mop the blood, saliva and mucus off of my face. He was hardly gentle; battering and pressing hard to my bruises in a way that made me think he was doing it intentionally. Imparting as much pain as possible. I snapped at his fingers with my teeth but all this got me was a slap to the currently unbruised portion of my jaw.

“Ya just don’t fuckin’ learn, do ya?” Marowski sighed, shaking his head with condescending mirth as he wiped the last of the crap from off of my chin. “Stupider than a goddamned mutt. A dog’d know by now to pull its head in.”

He fluffed the waves of my hair out around my shoulders, pulling some of the tresses forward so that they trailed down over my chest. I couldn’t understand why he was doing this. It was like he was… posing me or something. Trying to pretty me up for whatever reason.

“W-what the fu-fuck are you… d-doing?” I hissed, glaring through bleary eyes as Marowski climbed back to his feet. I felt completely exposed, so I pulled my knees up and pinned them together, twisting my legs to the side so as to veil the view of my vagina. Marowski burst out with a snarl and slammed his palms to my kneecaps; wrenching my thighs back apart with such violence it sent a spear of pain thrusting up inside of me.

“Shut up!” He hissed, because naturally I cried out. “You _move_ , when I _tell_ you to move. Just do as your fucking told and this’ll all go a hell of a lot quicker.”

I pressed my throbbing lips together, pushing my eyes upward into their sockets so that I didn’t have to see him tugging my legs down and spreading them further apart. I could feel the coolness of the night air on myself; piercing cruelly through the hot fluids coating almost every bare inch of my extremities. My vagina no longer felt like a natural part of my body, but rather a raw, gaping wound; weeping and oozing agony with each tearful exhalation. Worse even than after I had given birth because at least my injuries had been… self-inflicted, in a way. And I’d had a beautiful, squalling baby to show for all my agony and effort. This was like… someone had taken a knife and carved out my insides, pulling them out through a hole that had never previously existed.

Never mind where he had penetrated me from behind; the pain here was incomparable. There was a heavy thickness; deep and trickling somewhere I had never before experienced the sensation. I quite honestly believed that I might have lost control of my bowels; that Marowski had pierced me somewhere inside and everything was just flowing out.

“Bastard…” I whimpered, twisting my head from side to side as he climbed to his feet and stared down at me. I wanted to kick him right up between the legs but I didn’t dare; not when he had me bound like this. He could permanently debilitate me in this position and I couldn’t run the risk of being put out of commission. Not when Shaun still needed me. “You’ll regret this one day… I promise you _._ ”

He gave a low, bored sounding sigh as he picked something up off of his desk. “Yeah… you say whatever you need to say, honey.” The room went white as a blinding flash exploded from the object in Marowski’s hands. My eyes darted down in shock, to see that he was holding a bulky, Polaroid camera up to his face; the huge, shining lens aimed down towards my naked body. As I watched, a square sheathe of paper shot out from the base and Marowski pinched the edge; tugging it out and shaking it from side to side. He gnawed at his lower lip, eyes sliding slowly up and down the length of my body.

“Nice…” He murmured, smirking as he continued to agitate the photograph. “You’re a big girl, but you ain’t half bad ta look at. Got a nice set of tits on ya.”

 _Could say the same about_ you, I thought to myself but resisted from speaking aloud. He was only likely to bash me again and I don’t think I had the strength; emotionally or physically to endure it. I just glared up at him, hateful and hurting as he moved the camera in closer to take a picture of my boobs, this time. The next shot was worse; he focused right between my legs and the degradation was enough to drive me back to tears again. It was like he was… cataloguing his work. Making a memento, of sorts.

“You could try smiling.” He slurred and I shot him a look of pure filth as he clambered back to his feet, having finished with the shot between my thighs. I almost spat at him but reminded myself of what happened last time I attempted this.

He chuckled lightly, glancing at me as he agitated the most recent photograph. “Glare all you like, honey. No one’s fault but your own that you’re in this situation now. And there are prices to be paid for bad behavior.” He placed the camera down and examined the three photographs he had taken; the corner of his lip sliding up to pierce the bunch of his rosy cheek. “Hngh. Not bad. Looks like I might have gotten my caps worth after all.”

“Bastard…” I hissed at him, which evoked only a burst of unconcerned laughter as he tucked the photos away into his shirt pocket.

“Oh waah-waah. Keepin’ it original with those insults there, frumpy. Wouldn’t wanna complicate things with any fresh material, would we?” He snorted disparagingly as he sauntered around to where my hands were bound; kneeling down near my head so that I wouldn’t be able to reach him with my legs. Not easily, anyway.

“You know…” He mused, using a small key to unlock the right hand cuff and then the left. Before I could yank my hands down and away, he pinned my wrists and kept them in place; his big, puffy face hanging upside down before my own. “I kind of hope that you _don’t_ manage ta get the rest of those caps together before the deadline.” His thick, sausage like finger traced a line across my swelling lips. “Because between you and me; I can think of a lot more interesting ways I can have ya workin’ off this debt. Get that filthy mouth of yours somethin’ to work on besides unoriginal insults…”

He went then and thrust his finger down so hard between my lips that it drove my teeth apart. I gagged and tried to bite him but the digit slipped back out before I had a chance; returning shortly thereafter with the support of the rest of his hand. He pinched my cheeks hard, forcing my jaw open and parting my lips. He dropped his tongue straight inside, licking the interior of my mouth in such a repulsive manner it made my throbbing stomach heave. His hand released my cheeks and his tongue quickly jerked backwards as my teeth went to crash down on it. Undeterred, he continued to suck and slurp at my lips, his freed hand now contenting itself with another maul of my breasts. I kicked one of my legs up, trying to smack him in the top of the head but the position I was in; let alone the pain of my injuries, was enough to cripple the attempt.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally had enough and released my mouth with a loud, sucking sound; not dissimilar to that of a plunger coming loose from the drain of a sink. He distributed one last hard slap to the side of my right breast and rubbed my aching nipple in a firm circle with his thumb.

“Gonna have to work on that biting thing. Wouldn’t want ya taking off anything necessary.” He said, laughing as he pushed himself to his feet. He picked up the camera and tucked it under his arm before plucking up the still smoking stogie from the ashtray on his desk. He stared at me as he puffed on it; his awful slit like mouth working up into another one of those nasty smiles of his. “Ya know… I think I’m gonna have me the time of my life with this little reclamation.”

He laughed softly to himself as he made his way over to the double doors; easing open the left hand one and all but stumbling out into the dark hallway beyond. The door swung shot behind him, trapping me inside with only my misery and the dim flickering light of the desk lamp for company.

For the longest while, I simply lay there; buried deep within a buzzing cloud of wretchedness from which there seemed to be no escape. There’s no context to misery like that; no thought to how you might appear or concerns for trying to formulate some strength. I curled my arms up around my head, buried my face into the crook of one elbow and smothered down the howls of despair that might have otherwise brought the roof down on top of us all.

I couldn’t believe that I had let him _do_ that to me… without so much as putting up a fight! The bastard hadn’t been interested in sex so much as completely _degrading_ me. And I’d gone ahead and allowed him to do precisely that.

And from the sounds of things, he meant to do it again. The sadistic bastard actually wanted me to _fail_ in repaying my debt to him; so that he could work out whatever awful unnatural lusts he had with my body as the tool. Using my earlier act of thievery as a justification for his right to ‘punish’ me.

My brain felt steeped in a pea soup fog; so thick I could no longer make out anything clearly. But I tried still to take stock of my injuries; so in the very least, I could figure out some sort of plan for what needed to happen next.

I started with the very worst pain I was experiencing; from where Marowski had penetrated my anus. There’d been little to no lubrication on his dick when he’d thrust inside of me because I hadn’t any natural wetness from when he had been inside my vagina. Other than blood, that is. I hadn’t enjoyed the experience, so naturally my body hadn’t responded the way that it might have done if I’d been with a consensual, loving partner. And it’s not like Marowski had cared enough to lubricate himself beforehand. Or use a condom; the dirty bastard.

Oh God, what if he had venereal diseases? If he was the type of person to force sex on someone like this, what would have prevented him from sleeping with, or fucking someone who had an STI? He could have had hepatitis B, syphilis, herpes… What about HPV? Jesus, that had been _so_ prevalent in my time and if the animals had mutated in such extreme ways, what had the radiation done for the once run of the mill STI’s? A warning poster I had once seen from World War II flashed through my mind: _‘A VD can be treated but nothing cures regret.’_ Heh, ain’t _that_ the truth.

My sobs renewed themselves. All it took was _once._ Just _once_ and I might now be infected with some disease that even as I lay there was working its way through my immune system and wreaking havoc on my body. Within the year my genitals might be covered in ulcers and my cervix closing in on itself and I’d feel sick and weak and more prone to illness… Things I hadn’t so much as considered when Marowski had been looming over me; offering up the more obvious, tangible risk in his little minions hunting me down all over the Commonwealth.

And this neighborhood had a considerable amount of individuals who used Chems; some of which I knew to be intravenous, like Psycho. Or at least intramuscular like Med-X. Not a needle exchange centre for miles around, so there would have to have been some sharp sharing, surely. If Marowski himself was a user, or if he’d had sex with some of these users in the past, there was a good chance that he had gotten infected with something. Something that he had now, in his thoughtfulness, passed along to me.

Which wasn’t _all_ that he might have passed along to me. Despite the fact that he had ejaculated whilst fucking me up the ass, I knew that a certain amount of sperm resided in the pre-cum a man secretes during sex. Some of this would have naturally been inside of my vagina, so there was a good chance that he might have gotten me pregnant regardless of his so-called ‘precautions’.

My breathing lost all context as I descended rapidly into a full-blown panic attack; wrapping myself up so tightly into a ball it was a wonder I didn’t disappear into myself entirely. I raked the back of my head with my fingernails; sobs oozing out as I glanced over the raw, throbbing wound on my skull. I smacked the palm of my hand against my face, twisting and turning to try and alleviate the sharp pain flaring up in my chest. I wanted to beat myself stupid; to punish myself for my short sightedness and my pathetic hypocrisy of character. I so readily championed the strength and perseverance of women; encouraging them to never give up, to always fight against opposition and never let anyone _ever_ bully or intimidate them. Especially men; or rather, those monstrous beings who wore the skin of much better creatures as a means to walk undetected amongst the rest of us. Because a real man; like Nate or my father, would _never_ have a thought in their mind to do what someone like Marowski had. And for so long, they had been my strong, wonderful champions; reminding me constantly of my right to be accorded respect and love. And now, not one ‘month’ after they had been yanked violently from my world; I had permitted the internal supports that they had worked so hard to build up in my mind, to crumble.

They’d be so ashamed of me; that I hadn’t stood up to Marowski. That I hadn’t fought and kicked and thrown him to the floor and forced _him_ to rescind the debt or _else._ It seemed so straightforward in my mind; something the strong lead in a movie might have done. And in light of what I have learnt of Marowski and the limits of his reach since; all the more reasonable.

But I _hadn’t_ known that then. I had no idea at the time of how powerful Marowski was. I might have tried putting up a fight and then the next thing I knew, five or ten men suddenly burst into the room and I wind up dead on the floor. And Shaun was trapped in the Institute and subject to whatever terrible things that might have been occurring for the rest of his life.

I was beaten up. Humiliated, ravaged but _alive._ Didn’t seem at all a fitting trade-off for my pride but what I was quickly realizing was that self-worth was, at least in part, an idealization of the old world. Where laws and institutionalized regulations kept the majority of the human race from going full tropo on one another. No one was going to rescue Shaun if not for me. And if I was going to rescue Shaun, I had to do everything I could to keep myself alive long enough to do so. Pride didn’t factor into it where my son was concerned. If the world forced me to become a whore, than that’s what I would have to be.

I did my utmost to steady my breathing, returning my thoughts again to cataloguing my injuries. My… _physical_ ones at least. My anus was raw and no doubt bleeding from Marowski’s violent penetration. Not to mention dripping with his cum. My vagina was throbbing and torn somewhere on the inside; I could tell because of the red, drippy mess on my thighs. I reached down with my hand, choking back sobs as I gently pressed my fingertips inside of myself. I didn’t push in too far but it still stung like hell. My fingers came back red; bright, viscous colored blood. That new wound blush.

My whole pelvis felt heavy; that internal ache I would sometimes experience in the past from rough sex, when Nate might have gone at me a little hard. My guts throbbed and roiled with pain from where Marowski had punched, kicked and stomped on me earlier. I had a throbbing, egg shaped lump on the back of my head; which didn’t appear to be bleeding but still hurt like hell and made it difficult for my eyes to focus. My jaw was very sore and some of my fingernails were torn and bent back from where I had been scratching the table during the assault. My nipples itched and ached from Marowski’s twisting and pulling and slapping. I was almost frightened to continue assessing my injuries; feeling that not a bare inch of my body had escaped his violent onslaught.

So… what did I need to do first? There was much to be done and I didn’t want any of the others to see me like this. That would only complicate things. Nick might try and take it further. Piper would _definitely_ pursue it to the ends of the earth, given the opportunity to do so and I simply couldn’t risk worsening the situation further. None of them had the power to stop someone like Marowski…

But then it occurred to me that I knew someone who _did._

Someone who had offered me support with rescuing Shaun. Someone who sure as shit had to wield a metric tonne more power than some shifty hotel owner in only the second largest settlement in the Commonwealth.

Mayor Hancock.

I eased myself up onto my hip, using my palms to steady myself on the floor. A clear line cut a path through the fog in my brain; guiding me towards my next step. Nothing else occurred to me at that time and it might not have seemed a particularly brave thing to do; running to someone else for help. But I was beaten, bloodied, humiliated and fucked. In more ways than one. Who among us, who finds themselves in that state, _doesn’t_ reach out for help?

I remembered earlier that day; Mayor Hancock stabbing that guy Finn to death for trying to extort me. What would he do to Marowski if he found out what he had just bullied me into?

Don’t get me wrong; I had no misconceptions at the time about Hancock’s fondness for me. I’m certain he simply saw me as some doe eyed young colt that warranted a little extra special courtesy and sensitivity; given my obvious inexperience. And of course the fact that I was in an extremely vulnerable situation. From my limited encounters with the man, I had the impression that he was decent; if unflinching in his approach to dealing with things he didn’t like.

 _‘I got no patience for bullies.’_ He’d said over our drink earlier. _‘When folks try and lean on someone for stuff they haven’t earned themselves. That’s predatory shit.’_

It was the memory of this conversation that sealed it for me. Hancock had offered his help and had made it very clear to me where he stood on matters of extortion and bullying. Though I barely knew the man from Adam, he had been nothing but kind to me since I had walked into the town and had already protected me once. Though I wasn’t interested in building a reputation based on running to a man for help, I truly couldn’t see any other course of action available to me. Besides, I needed to see a doctor and I had no idea where to find one in Goodneighbor. The mayor would be able to guide me through most of this. _And_ deal with Marowski in a way that might force him to keep his hands off of me whilst I repaid the debt in a controlled, orthodox manner.

But I couldn’t just go lurching across Goodneighbor to the Statehouse like _this._ Goodness knows who else I might run into and I didn’t want _anyone_ seeing me in such a state. Too many questions and it was humiliating aside. I’d had quite enough embarrassment to last me the night.

But I had nothing to clean myself with. My panties were already filthy and shredded from Marowski having cut them off of my hips earlier with his knife. I’d need to get up and have a proper look around the room; try and find something I could use. Screw Marowski if he added the cost of a fucking newspaper to my debt; I could handle another three caps to my name if it meant that I’d be the slightest bit tidier.

I pushed myself onto my knees; my eyes tearing up as I felt that slow awful trickle deep inside of me. Two thick trails carved their way down my thighs; either blood or semen or a putrescent mixture of both. I didn’t care enough to check. What good did it do to clarify?

I wiped absently at them anyway; not wanting them to reach the floor and make more of a mess for me to clean up. There was a small pool of congealed, gloopy blood that had passed down over the back of my right thigh and gathered on the boards already and I knew Marowski was cruel enough to increase my debt if I had a mind to leave it there. I used the desk to push myself to my feet; clenching my teeth and eyes shut with the effort to fight back the pain that resulted from this maneuver. My stomach throbbed agonizingly from his kicks and punches. It was a wonder I hadn’t thrown up yet. I certainly felt sick enough; physically and emotionally to do so.

I wasn’t able to straighten up, so I cupped my hand to my stomach and used the desk to support and guide myself slowly about the room. I opened what drawers I could; searching for some sort of material with which to clean myself. Most were locked, so I wasn’t able to peek inside of them. My booted foot splashed down into the small puddle of bourbon that had been left behind from where the bottle had rolled off the table. I relegated this to my muddled brain; reminding myself to come back around and sop this up too.

There was a sofa in the room but no material loose enough for me to pull a swatch away and use. No papers absorbent enough to sop up the mess, so much as smear it about further. I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to use my night shirt; which, let’s face it, had already been dirtied by Marowski wiping his cock off on it earlier.

I slowly and carefully eased the winter coat off of my aching torso and placed it on Marowski’s desk before sliding my arms out of the white shirt I was wearing beneath. I sobbed to myself as my shaking arms held it aloft; displaying for heart rending inspection the thick, dark streaks of blood and yellow tinged stains on the hanging tails.

“Oh God…” I whimpered to myself, clutching the clean center of the shirt in my hand and using it to clean up the inside of my thighs. The material got a whole lot darker in very short order. “… oh God, oh God… this didn’t happen to me… _please…_ Nate, Daddy… I’m so _sorry…_ ”

I knew that I was babbling but I didn’t have a mind to stop myself; feeling it somehow kept me focused and moving. Alleviated some of the aching throb in my chest. I cleaned up my thighs and vagina first before using the unstained side of the shirt to wipe the filthy bastards cum off of my ass. I wiped up between the crack as well, though didn’t feel comfortable using the shirt to go any deeper than this. I needed a shower and whatever equivalent this world had for a douche. Get as much of that bastards yuck out of me as possible.

My vagina was still bleeding pretty heavily and I wondered what I could do to try and keep it from leaking all down my legs whilst I hobbled my way over to the State house. I observed that each of my boots had a decorative lace on the front of them; for no reason other than for aesthetic purposes it seemed. They were zip up, after all. I placed the shirt down on the floor and gently sat on it, whilst I worked each lace out of the leather loops into which they’d been threaded. Each was approximately three or four feet in length and sturdy enough to hold strong when I gave them a good yank.

Marowski hadn’t left his knife and there was nothing down here I could use to cut the shirt material, so I did the best I was able with my hands. I tore off the left hand sleeve at the shoulder seam, creating a good tunnel of fabric that I could push my hand through. I threaded one of the laces through this, bunching the material up towards the center to create a sort of thick pad. I wound the matching cord about my waist; tying it tightly above my belly button like a belt. I stood up, pressing the bunched up sleeve pad against my bleeding vagina and then tugging the material back so that some of it could rest within the crack of my buttocks; aware that I was bleeding from here as well. I tied one end of the lace to the cord above my naval and then reached behind to tie it just above my backside. Kind of like a poor man’s butt-floss, if you will. Not particularly pleasant and it rubbed horribly in the front but I didn’t have very many options to my name. And it should at least keep me from having to clean off my thighs every two seconds. Just call me Eve-Guiver.

It was only then that I noticed my breasts had started to leak; most likely from where Marowski had tugged on my nipples earlier. Though I hadn’t had many lactating incidents during my time in the Commonwealth, it did occur occasionally; simply because I was still producing a small amount of milk. I’d been breastfeeding Shaun up until the point that he was kidnapped and it’s not like your body just switches that production line off. It was only a small amount but it still embarrassed and infuriated me just the same. A reminder of my son; stolen from me and never far from my mind. My husband; murdered before my eyes. My whole world; family, friends, job, _everything…_ obliterated.

Marowski had taken advantage of my vulnerability. Yes, I should never have stolen from him; that’s true. But I would have been fully prepared to pay him back in due order. He was aware that I was in a bad situation; that I was a mother, trying to rescue her son and desperate enough to do just about anything within reason. He had preyed on that and used it to exploit me.

And this wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _right._ And the bastard shouldn’t get away with it.

I cleaned off my breasts and then pulled the winter jacket back on; buttoning and zipping up every button and zip I could find. Fortunately, the garment was long enough to cover everything that needed covering and I could deal with the collective eyes of Goodneighbor getting a glimpse of my upper thighs. So long as they were clean.

I hobbled about the room, using the now filthy shirt to sop up as much mess as I could find on the floor. The thing was starting to look as though it had just been fished out of a crime scene. Though I suppose that wasn’t too far from the truth.

When I was done, I tucked the garment in under my jacket; wanting to keep it concealed from the eyes of others. The dank material felt awful against the bare flesh of my chest but there was little to be done for that. I’d just have to put up with it as best I could.

Moving slowly, I made my way to the door; hunkered over and nursing my stomach the whole while. I wished I could straighten up but I could barely walk, let alone pull my spine into alignment. I wondered if there might perhaps be something in the room beyond that I could use to support myself? Like a stick or even just a piece of loose timber. At this rate, I’d find myself crawling through Goodneighbor with my ass up in the air and wouldn’t _that_ send off a lovely message to all the doped up citizens?

Someone drifted into view as I eased open the door and I flinched back, terrified that it was Marowski swinging in for round two. But it was in fact a woman; the same one that I had seen earlier that day, hanging out in the shadows behind Hancock when he’d gotten stuck into Finn at the gate. His so-called ‘bodyguard’. The one that the robot bartender had referred to as ‘ _the redhead with the condescending stare.’_

She looked as though she had just wandered up from the basement area; where I figured that Chem dealer Fred Allen must have set up shop. Sure enough, she was inspecting the contents of a bag at her side and I could see the thick, double barreled syringe characteristic of the drug Psycho pop into view.

When the light from Marowski’s room filtered into the main area, she glanced up and quickly zipped the side of the bag shut. Her eyes trailed down to my feet and back up to meet my bruised, bleary eyed expression.

“Well…” She said, with a disinterested sort of sniff. “You look like you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.”

It was perhaps the most poorly ironic choice of words that anyone could have used at that point. And it was enough to drive me back to the breach of blubbering hysterics; shattering what little self-control I’d managed to maintain.

“ _Please… help me…”_ I sobbed, reaching my arm out to her like a toddler beseeching their parent to pluck them up off of the floor. “I need to see the mayor… _please_ …”

“Fuck…” The woman hissed, glancing up and then over her shoulder as though searching for someone else who might be able to handle the situation instead. Finding no one, she sighed with clear resignation as she made her way over; grabbing my arm to steady me, for I’d nearly fallen over. “Come on, take it easy. Tell me what happened.” She tilted her head knowingly and lowered her voice yet another iota. “ _Did you owe Marowski money?”_

I nodded my head, sobbing and sniveling the whole while. “More than I can… ever repay. At least… not in the time he’s asking.” Her hand clutched about my arm was hardly comforting; feeling more like the vice iron grip of an arresting officer. But I held tight to her all the same, needing someone – _anyone –_ to stabilize me. “And he… he-he h-hurt me… and he’s gonna… keep on hurting me. He took… p-pictures…”

“For God’s sake… not _again_ …” The woman grumbled, sounding more annoyed than upset with what I was telling her. She knelt a little, using her free hand to lift aside the hanging corner of my jacket so that she could peer up into my business. I yanked away reflexively and earned a reproachful look in return. “Oh, ease up. You think _yours_ is the first pussy I’ve set eyes on? Don’t be so fucking sensitive.”

I didn’t have a good response for this, so I just bit my lip and stared off to the side as the woman lifted my jacket again and stared at the makeshift bandage I’d tied to my groin. Her expressionless face, coupled with her shaved head, scarred cheek and muscular physique, lent her an appearance all too suited for her role as bodyguard. In a town like this one, most folks would have to be tough and for a woman to hold a position like hers; charged with the protection of the _mayor…_ She’d have to be hard as nails. Wasn’t exactly the sensitive touch I was craving at that point in time but it wasn’t as though I had much in the way of choice. Besides, there was something about her matter-o-fact attitude that was helping hold me together in a way that a comforting approach might not have otherwise achieved.

“Clever.” She murmured, giving the slightest approving nod as she climbed back to her feet. Her amber colored eyes flinched close together as she took me by the chin and tilted my head from side to side. “Christ. He either likes you too much, or he hates your guts. Either way ain’t much good for you.”

“I n-need to speak to the… mayor.” I repeated, squeezing my hand tight about her arm as a wave of nausea flooded up inside of me. I was scared that I was about to lose control of my stomach. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t _right._ Please… I need to see him.”

“Only person you need to be seein’ right now is the doc.” The woman said, releasing my arm and turning to make her way towards the door. “I’ll take you over there now.”

I took about two steps in her direction before a stabbing pain in my abdomen drove me down onto my knees. I sobbed, clutching my midsection pathetically and curling over until my forehead just about touched the floor. She made an impatient tut in my direction.

“Come on, get up. Don’t be so soft.”

A lick of anger flared in my chest and I shot my eyes up towards the insensitive woman; teeth pulled back in a furious grimace.

“I’m _trying._ It fucking _hurts!!_ ” I hissed, bearing down against the pain as I might have done a contraction; my entire face flinching with the force of it. “That asshole… beat the shit out of me…”

Her expression remained unchanged. “Well, either you get up and follow me, or you lay there on the floor all night. Your choice.” She folded her arms and leant against the doorframe; one foot crossed casually across her calf. She seemed so completely… unaffected by what had happened to me. Jesus, all anyone else needed to do was sniffle when I was around and I’d have them swaddled up in a blanket and rocking in my lap like a baby. I guess people are used to being a lot harder in this time but still… it wouldn’t have killed her to have been a _little_ nicer. I’d just been sexually assaulted, for God’s sake…

When the pain had passed, I struggled back onto my feet; using one hand to reach under my jacket and adjust the pad from where it had slipped. Having returned myself to some semblance of order, I dragged my beaten up old carcass over towards the door, where the bodyguard finally deigned to step up and guide her arm about my waist.

“Well done.” She said, her breath hot against my ear and besmirched by the tang of beer. She pushed the door open and guided me down the steps out of the hotel entrance. “Here in Goodneighbor, ya gotta learn to toughen up pretty right quick. Lotta bastards out there’ll see you crawling in the gutter and they won’t care that someone’s had their way with you. They’ll just see it as an opportunity. Now, try and keep your back as straight as possible. Gonna walk you over to the memory den and I’d rather we don’t have to stop to answer too many questions.”

She turned sharply once we were out the doorway; keeping me on the side closest to the buildings so that she could shield as much of me as possible, I guess. She used her free hand to rake my hair down over my swollen cheek and whisked me along so quickly that my body shuddered and shrieked with agony at each jolt of my feet to the pavement. I kept my lips pinched shut, uncertain why she felt we had to play this manner of game but rationalizing that she may very well have been protecting my privacy. Whilst not permitting others to see me as weak, or vulnerable to further attack or exploitation. I mean, she _was_ Mayor Hancock’s bodyguard; surely she must have shared the same values that he did, right?

The cold air of the outdoors bit into the exposed skin of my thighs and drifted up beneath the winter jacket to caress its icy fingers across my bare flesh. I could feel some tear drops of blood or god knows what else leaching down onto my thighs; shaken loose from the harried movement of my body.

“Please… slow down a little…” I begged, but received no heed for my request. I yelped softly as the toe of my boot snagged a cobblestone and I stumbled; the hard slap of my foot to the ground driving pain through my nether regions. “Ah!! Just slow _down,_ would you?!” I yanked myself away from her, leaning my back against the wall behind me and wiping purposefully at the blood that had dribbled down onto my thigh. “Fucking hell… you’re about as sensitive as sandpaper, you are.”

It was out of my mouth before I realized I had said it, and though I didn’t quite regret it, I couldn’t imagine it helped my cause. The woman was under no obligation to help me and I was fortunate, in fact, that she had been there in the first place. Now I’d probably just pissed her off and she’d be well in her rights to steam off into the night and leave me there; sooking and leaking by the wall.

But she didn’t leave. Just sighed, planted her hands on her hips and scuffed one foot impatiently against the ground.

“Whenever you’re ready.” She said coolly and waited, staring off into the dimly lit street beyond as I pulled myself together. I wiped at my eyes, felt the sting wrought from so many tiresome tears and wondered whether I might ever be happy again. This world seemed intent on killing me. And, failing that, driving me to the point of beseeching death myself. Only a month in and I already felt as though I were running on fumes. How could I… _live_ in a world like this? What sort of life could ever exist for me and for my boy, if I wasn’t able to protect myself from a piece of low-life scum like Marowski?

“I’m… sorry…” I whispered, pressing my head to the wall behind me and staring tearfully through the steam that rose from a nearby grate. The coolness of the bricks felt good against my throbbing wound. “I’m just… scared…”

She might have made fun of me for such feeble statement but the bodyguard did no such thing. Her expression didn’t change as she offered instead a small, stoic shake of the head.

“Don’t apologize.” She said. “You never have to apologize for being scared. You need only apologize for refusing to rise above that fear. For allowing yourself to become a victim.” She leaned close, arms now crossed tightly against her chest and her eyes enquiring something intensely of me. “ _Don’t_ be a victim. Patch yourself up, _pick_ yourself up and sort your shit out. That’s all we can do as women in this world. Means growing yourself a pair and using ‘em. That, or let yourself be walked all over.”

Her arm looped around my waist again, her head sliding under my arm and prompting it up around her shoulder. She whispered ‘Come on’ into my ear and started leading me in the direction of the building labeled ‘The Memory Den’. I remembered that Nick was going to bring me here the following day, to meet a ‘Doctor Amari’, who I had presumed was a scientist of some sort. When I mentioned this to Hancock’s bodyguard, she gave a humorous sort of chuff from somewhere within her broad chest.

“Doctor Amari is a kind of… needs must will out, person.” She explained, pushing her shoulder against the door and easing her way inside. She guided me down a hallway, dimly lit and wreathed in red and old timey posters of events, performances and exhibitions long since lost. “Scientist yeah, but she knows her shit across the spectrum. Trust me; she’ll be able to sort you out. I speak from personal experience.”

We emerged into a large room; what must have once been a sort of… performance area of sorts. There were strange pod like contraptions placed here and there; containing within what appeared to be a red leather reclining lounge. Hancock’s guard didn’t waste any time with showing me the sights and simply steered my dreary ass over to one of the red, felt sofas. As I curled myself up against the arm of it, she returned to the center of the room and lifted her head, screaming out; “HEY AMARI!! NEED A LITTLE HELP DOWN HERE!!”

Within minutes, someone had arrived by my side. An older looking woman; perhaps early forties, with olive colored skin and thick black hair hanging in voluminous columns about her shoulders. She had a nightgown wrapped around her and was peering down at me with such a concerned and kind expression that it immediately weakened every preservation of strength I’d maintained since leaving the Hotel Rexford.

“My goodness Melanie, in just what state did you find this poor girl?” The woman asked, reaching down and passing her palm gently across the crown of my head. A strained whimper leached out from between my lips as I devolved into sobs once more. The touch reminded me of my mother.

Hancock’s bodyguard groaned from nearby. “It’s Fahrenheit, doc, okay? I’d just as prefer to leave Melanie back in the past. Anyhow, this is that new girl that wandered in with Valentine earlier today. Seems she had some… _business_ to finalize with Marowski.”

Doctor Amari gave a snakelike hiss between her teeth; a sound that almost resembled the toxic spit of a cobra. “Filthy letch. When I think of all the patients I’ve treated on account of _his_ disgusting proclivities…” She didn’t bother with finalizing the thought but instead knelt down, running her hand along my arm and pressing her palm into my own. My bleary eyes focused as best they could on her serious, yet reassuring expression. “Darling, my name is Doctor Amari. You’re safe now and I’m going to help you as best as I am able. But first, can I ask you to tell me your name and date of birth?”

Oh God, oh God, oh _God…_ No, I couldn’t. I mean, I _could_ but no one would take the truth as my having some control of my faculties. Because I’d be claiming to have been born two hundred and thirty odd years in the past. And my brain wasn’t working well enough to try and figure out just what year I would have been born in, if I had worked back from the current days date.

But to be fair, how many people of this time _would_ know their year of their birth? I’d just wing it as best I could. It wasn’t likely that she’d refuse me medical treatment based on some shoddy recollection of my birth date, right?

“My n-name is… Evelyn Hallows. I was born on June 24th, twenty-eight years ago… I d-don’t… I don’t remember what year. I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine.” Doctor Amari said, giving a small smile and then swatting her hand through the air at Fahrenheit; who looked as though she very much wanted to be anywhere else other than here. “Don’t go anywhere just yet, thankyou Melanie. I’ll be needing your help with this one.”

Fahrenheit let loose another irritated moan. “ _Fahrenheit_ , doc. And I ain’t plannin’ on going anywhere. Need to debrief with this one good and proper, anyway. Before she goes running her mouth off to the wrong people.”

“Of all the things to be concerned with...” Amari said, flashing her an unimpressed look as she climbed back to her feet and dusted her knees off. “You of all people could afford to show some heart, couldn’t you Melanie? And no, I won’t call you by that other name; not simply to satisfy your own need for grandiosity. Now,” She stated, turning back to me whilst leaving Fahrenheit scowling and flushing in the background. “Tell me what happened, dear. You don’t have to go into any detail but… just enough so that I know what I need to treat.”

I swallowed back a thick, wad of bloody saliva; my tongue flicking over the ragged wound on the inside of my cheek from where I had bitten it earlier. I told Amari what had happened; a dot point of events starting from when I left the hotel room, to having arrived there on her sofa. Her expression barely changed during my recount of events, though her lips did twist off to the side and she closed her eyes briefly when I described the assault. She murmured ‘Good God’ when I spoke of the rectal penetration. I had a difficult time remembering where and how often he had struck my body but I think my injuries spoke for themselves.

When I had finished, Amari reached out once more and stroked her hand over my hair, whispering soothing utterances to try and ease my sobs.

“Well done, darling. You’ve been very brave.” She said, earning what sounded to be an unconvinced snort in the background from Fahrenheit. Amari turned to her brusquely and snapped her fingers. “Melanie? Help Ms. Hallows downstairs to the bathroom. She’ll need to use the toilet and have a shower. I’ll bring down some supplies and something clean and warm for her to change into. Then I’ll get the treatment room prepped.”

To her credit, Fahrenheit desisted from any further grumbling and stepped back to my side and crouched down, sliding her arm about my midsection.

“Come on then. Up you come.” She grunted, pushing herself back to her feet with me leaning heavy against her shoulder. It must have been a sight; given that I was about two inches taller than her and probably ten pounds heavier. But she wore it like a champ; dragging my sad, sobbing, bleeding body down those stairs as though I were nothing more burdensome than an irritated toddler.

We emerged into a long hallway and Fahrenheit took her time now to guide me along the length of it; steering me directly towards a dark, open doorway at the far end. Once inside, she snapped a switch on the inside wall, sending harsh, iridescent light flooding the room; the overhead ticking like an egg timer as it flared to life. Shadows went sliding and scattering from where they had previously draped upon surfaces like sleeping cats; casting edges into sharp contrast for inspection.

The bathroom was a simple affair but practically designed so as to ensure maximum efficiency. There were two cubicles located on the far side of the wall, with a urinal perched adjacent to them; sharing space with a slightly crooked, yet squeaky clean and hygienic looking sink. There was even a liquid soap dispenser screwed into the wall above it and a mirror which bore not so much as a crack in its surface, let alone a speck of dust. A shower stall had been cramped in alongside the stalls, the white, featureless curtain swept aside to reveal a shining interior; with a plastic support chair perched directly in the center. Either Doctor Amari or her housemate were loath to stand up while they showered, or they were used to any number of persons sweeping through who were unable to do anything but sit while they soaked. It seemed terribly sad if that second assumption were to be true.

Fahrenheit steered me into the one of the toilet stalls and pulled the door shut on her retreat; advising that she would be right outside if I needed her. I managed to get the knots untied in the laces about my waist and groin and pulled the bloody sleeve out of the way so I could plonk myself on the toilet seat.

I understood why Doctor Amari had advised I urinate first. Given the rough nature of the assault, it was highly likely that I could develop a urinary tract infection. Having a wee after sex was a standard I was accustomed to; having had my fair share of ‘honeymooner’s disease’ in the past and not especially desiring a repeat.

This wasn’t however as straight forward a process as it had once been. Stung like goddamned razor blades and I shrieked with pain as some of the urine, inevitably, came into contact with the torn and razed areas of my vagina. I clenched my teeth and pushed my forehead into my knees, huffing back as my body rolled and lurched through the worst of the discomfort.

“Stings a bit, yeah.” Fahrenheit mused from outside, not unsympathetically. She patted on the door. “Just gotta ride it out, kiddo. Get as much of that grot out as possible.”

“It’s… happened to you before… hasn’t it?” I asked, speaking from behind the wall of my teeth as the last of my acidic urine dribbled into the bowl. The toilet paper came back red when I wiped and the inside of the bowl was speckled with dots of blood.

It wasn’t a kind question for me to have asked but I’d always had a bad habit of being too nosy for my own good. And going by Doctor Amari’s inferences upstairs, not to mention Fahrenheit’s careless allusions, it seemed likely that she had herself lived through this same unsavory experience. Perhaps I was just mean enough to want to remind her of that; given that I was suffering and she was being so ‘la-dee-freakin’-da’ casual about it.

She would have been well within her rights to tell me to fuck off and mind my own business but the tough as nails bodyguard merely laughed in response; though there was no humor in her tone.

“Not for a long time.” She replied, her voice as devoid of emotional nuance as her laughter had been. “Never again, I get my way. But I remember the process.” I heard the twisting of tightened steel and then the crashing of water into the shower basin. “Gonna keep the water pretty tepid. Too hot and it’s gonna enflame those wounds of yours. I’ll try and keep it as warm as possible, though.”

“Thankyou…” I called, easing myself back onto my feet and flushing the toilet. I carried my makeshift bandage out, throwing the bloodied sleeve into a nearby bin, whilst keeping a hold of the laces. I thought I might reattach them to the boots later.

Fahrenheit gave an indifferent shrug. “We do what we must.” She said, twirling her finger in a circle to indicate that I turn around. She helped me gingerly ease off the winter jacket and sucked air back sharply between her teeth as she saw the full extent of my injuries. “Jesus… I know the guy has some deep-seated issues with people flogging his shit but… holy damn.”

“Deep seated issues?” I repeated groggily, allowing myself to be led over to the shower bay and assisted inside. I perched compliantly on the plastic chair as Fahrenheit unhooked the adjustable shower head and passed it into my hand.

“Long story short; Marowski used to be a big name in this town over twenty years ago. Might have ended up headin’ the whole place if his luck had run differently.” Fahrenheit took a cigarette from a pack in her shirt pocket and lit up as I started wetting down my hair. I knew there were more important things to focus on than this but I went with the pull of habit. “Then these guys go and knock over his Chem lab and set him on a tailspin he’s never been able to pull his big ass out of. Got close about ten years ago; working simpatico with the town’s mayor at the time, Vic. Then Hancock takes over and sends old Vic out for the hangman’s jig. Marowski made a few little attempts at throwin’ his weight around but the boss managed to catch him in a compromising situation. Enough to keep ‘im on a short enough leash to hang himself, if need be.” She gestured towards me with the cigarette. “I’m thinkin’ your little stunt with Trish and his Chem lab might have just reopened some raw wounds. Stuff he sees as bein’ extremely personal. So he went and added a little venom to his… usual routine.”

“He does this a lot?” I queried, wincing as the water lanced across the sore lump on the crown of my head. I gingerly washed around it; just in case there had been any blood that might have gotten into my hair. There was no shampoo or conditioner located in the shower stall and I wondered whether these might be the aforementioned ‘supplies’ that Doctor Amari might have been fetching.

Fahrenheit grunted noncommittally. “I wouldn’t say ‘a lot’. Enough for there to be a pattern with it. A ‘routine’ of sorts. Usually it’s because he’s loaned out money to people in desperate situations and then he gives them a ridiculously stunted length of time to pay it all back. Bastard’s lost his reputation in this town but he came from probably ‘ _the’_ richest family in the Commonwealth, back in the day. And he still has an exorbitant amount of funds remaining from his inheritance.” She flicked cigarette ash off to the side carelessly. “Enough so that he doesn’t need ta give a shit about pullin’ in caps at the hotel. He can sit comfy on his accumulated wealth for the rest of his life. Pays menial taxes to the town coughers. Loans caps out where he sees fit.” She gave a humorless huff. “Man has _major_ power issues. Think that’s why he bullies you chicks the way he does. Makes him feel better for his metaphorical castration or somethin’? I dunno. Most gals normally work out some consensual sort of… repayment scheme. Work off the debt on their backs. Never the men of course, he just finds other busy work for them. Ain’t much interest in the cock. The gals don’t like it very much but they put up with it and rarely come out all black and blue like _this._ Suppose most folks haven’t gone and robbed him, though. I mean, did you say ‘yes’ or…?”

My lips quivered miserably beneath the peals of water flowing over and between them; hair hanging flax against my bruised and throbbing cheeks. “He didn’t really give me the option to say no… threatened to have me hunted down all over the Commonwealth if I couldn’t pay him back before I left Goodneighbor. I have a son, you see, and I couldn’t put him at risk. Bastard said he’d take off a thousand caps if I did something for him… then he just…” A lump formed in my throat and I found myself unable to continue; crippled by the memory of what I had only crawled away from. I focused on the water; the warm, clean water. Pure, gentle, comforting.

“Scummy bastard.” Fahrenheit growled, taking another slow inhalation on her cigarette. The smoke tantalized me even from within the soothing shroud of the water. “And I’m sure as hell you didn’t give no consent for him to jam it up your ass, either. He was just… takin’ out his issues on you.” Her head tilted towards me; her expression unchanging but somehow reassuring. I was usually fairly comfortable being naked in front of other people anyway but I was surprised to find that I wasn’t the least embarrassed for this woman to have seen me in such a state. Perhaps it helped to know that she too must have been in this same, vulnerable situation at some point in her life. Was forced to accept the support of others, much as I was now subject to her support. “It’s going to be fine. Doctor Amari will have you in like new condition before you leave here. You might want to stand up and start cleaning off down below. Just a suggestion.”

I had been putting it off for some reason but Fahrenheit’s urging reminded me of just how dirty my undercarriage was and I eased myself forwards, lifting my backside slowly away from the chair. The plastic seat was stained by trickles of blood and I used the shower head to quickly wash them away.

Fahrenheit gestured towards it with the cigarette. “Try placing your foot up on the chair. It’ll help you reach easier.”

I went to do just this, when my stomach violently flipped over on itself; far more insistently than it had at any other point that night. I felt it lurch and squeeze in on itself and I twisted my head to the side, raking my hair back as fast as I could as a horrible, acidic wave of alcohol and half-digested dinner came hurtling out of my throat. Most of it splattered about the drain and was buffeted out of existence by the curls of water that were making their way into the veiled pipes below. A few, thicker chunks made harder work of it; spattering my feet and snagging in the pizza slice shaped little crevices which made up the border of the drain filter.

I was blubbering well and good now; more so when the second wave came and I was lashing the shower head around like a drunken knight; trying to force as much of the vomit down the drain as I could. I hated throwing up and it always got me good and upset; perhaps because I’d had so many miserable experiences of it when I was a silly young teenager, trying anything and everything to fit in with the pressurizing rabble I went to school with. Not to mention it felt horrible and embarrassing. Representing, almost, the complete and utter loss of control of your body and your faculties.

“Oh God…” I wheezed to myself, using my foot to try and stamp some of the more persistent lumps down the drain. “How gross… I’m so sorry – I’m so sorry… Oh God…” I held the nozzle of the shower head to my lips; flushing the inside of my mouth about with water, which I then spat out onto the floor. “Ugh… Radroach casserole was _not_ a good choice for dinner tonight… shit tastes even worse second time around…”

This actually wrought a laugh from Fahrenheit and her palm petted my back consolingly. “It’s good you can keep a sense of humor about it. Sign of an adaptable mind. Now don’t stress, just… take your time. We’re still waiting on the doc, after all.”

It was not two seconds later that Doctor Amari knocked on the door and swept inside after gaining permission from Fahrenheit. She started offloading supplies onto the small wooden benchtop situated just outside of the shower stall.

“Melanie, put that cigarette out at once.” She demanded, not bothering to wait for Fahrenheit to do as she was told and simply plucking it from the other woman’s hand and shoving it down the plughole of one of the sinks. To her credit, Fahrenheit didn’t arc up but offered instead an amused, indulgent smile. I was getting the impression that in spite of their constant snarking, that the pair were in fact rather fond of one another.

“Starting to think you’d forgotten about us.” She said lightly, keeping her hand firmly pressed to my shoulder as I sank back into the plastic support chair. I watched as Doctor Amari, unconcerned by Fahrenheit’s tone, hung a clean, white cotton robe from a hook on the wall.

“Your yelling roused Kent from bed.” She explained, passing over a thick, patently unused bar of soap for Fahrenheit to hand in to me. “You know how he gets about these things. Has himself all worked into a lather about the injustice of it all. Wouldn’t be surprised if he lectures about it on the radio first thing come sun-up.”

I didn’t know who Kent was at the time and had humorously enough assumed that he might have been Doctor Amari’s lover or husband. I hadn’t noticed a wedding band on her finger but that’s not always the best indicator of someone’s marital status.

Fahrenheit issued an obvious groan of annoyance. “Well, I hope you didn’t go and give him too much information on the matter, Doc. Never mind the girls right to privacy, this is the sort of thing in which we need to exercise-”

“- undue discretion. Yes Melanie, I do remember hearing this lecture the once or twice you’ve cared to deliver it.” The doctor interceded, leaning about now so that she could focus her attentions on me. “Now, Evelyn. How are you feeling?”

“I just puked Radroach...” I gurgled miserably, frothing the bar of soap across my breasts and easing myself up slightly so that I could direct some of the foam down between my legs. It quickly turned pink.

Doctor Amari tilted her head sympathetically. “Well, considering what you have gone through, my dear, such a thing is to be expected. But given that you also have a head injury, it is something that we do need to be mindful of. Now.” She grazed her fingertips against the robe that she had only just finished hanging up. “This is a nice clean robe. Only just been washed. After your shower, Melanie will help you change into it. And I’ll have a good, clean set of fresh underpants for you once we’ve done a quick examination and applied the appropriate treatment. I won’t give those to you until afterwards because you may still be bleeding. Is that okay?”

“Yah y'betch yah…” I murmured, forcing myself up onto my feet and sliding one back up onto the blood streaked chair. I directed the shower head up between my legs; using my fingers very tentatively to wipe the blood and other mess out from between the creases. I was operating on a sort of robotic auto-pilot at this stage; not really placing much emotional emphasis on the things I was doing and the people who were observing them. The simple process now was to be clean and maintaining this focus was helping to keep my grief at bay.

Doctor Amari gave a brief, sharp nod of her head. “Good. Now, you don’t have to use these but I know that a lot of girls prefer to be as clean as possible, following an… assault.” She picked up two plastic bottles from the bench; one that was blue in color, the other red. Both had long, white nozzles on the top with lateral holes perforating the sides. “This blue one is to syringe out your vagina and the red one is to use inside of your anus. I have filled both with warm purified water. Just be mindful not to use the same one for both areas or you’ll run the risk of bacterial infection. And that is _precisely_ what we aim to avoid. Now, did you wish to…?”

“Yes.” I said instantly, relieved and grateful as I set down the shower nozzle and leaned across to take the douches from Doctor Amari’s hands. I arranged them side by side on the chair and then reached across to swish the shower curtain closed. “Thanks but… I need some privacy for this.”

Fahrenheit grunted from behind the curtain. “What, you think I was actually hanging out to _watch?_ Got other means of getting my kicks, sister.”

I heard what sounded like the slap of Doctor Amari’s hand striking some part of Fahrenheit’s body. “God forbid you could offer up a kindly tone at a time like this.” I watched as her shadow swept out of sight. “You take your time, dear. I’ll see you in the treatment room whenever you’re ready.”

I was left to ponder the pair of douches with a sceptical eye; having never used one before in my life and uncertain as to how to go about the process. Well, I mean, there was the quite obvious application of sticking the… tube up myself and squeezing the bulb to flush in the water but there were other questions I had. Such as; how far was I to stick the tube in? Could I do it standing up, or did I need to sit or squat? I wasn’t sure I could maintain that sort of balance, given my current condition. And the vaginal one was likely to be more straight forward than the anal one. Wait… which one was the anal one again? … Red. It was the red one. Red for the worst pain; _that’s_ how I would remind myself if I forgot again.

I shelved my concerns as I picked up the blue one. If I got it wrong, I’d just have to refill it from the shower head and have another crack. _Anything_ was better than having that bastards yuck up inside of me for a minute longer than necessary.

I used it the same way I had the shower head; crooking my leg up on the chair and gently easing the nozzle up inside of myself. _Ow, ow – fucking ow._ Hurt like fucking _hell_ and the bloody thing scraped the ragged tears as it went in. I swallowed down another gag as it lurched upward in my throat; using both hands to squeeze and pump the bladder of the douche. Water squirted up and coated the inside of me; rushing out almost as quickly as it entered. It streamed down my left leg; pink and flecked with clots of blood. I emptied out as much of the bulb as possible; not having the room to lie down so that gravity could aid with the last remaining ounce of fluid in the bladder. The liquid had started to run clear, which was a good sign. My bleeding had clearly slowed or ceased altogether. I used the shower head to douse myself off before placing down the blue douche and picking up the red instead.

Jesus… this here was the tricky part. Tricky, tricky, tricky. I was going to have to squat somehow; perhaps use the chair to help balance myself. Fortunately, I was strong enough from my martial arts to manage the manoeuvre but it felt fucking embarrassing, perched there in the shower cubicle like a frumpy frog on a Lilly pad. I held the front of the chair as I positioned the nozzle of the douche. Damn, this was gonna hurt so bad. It was so red raw in there… God knows how I’d manage if I needed to take a dump anytime soon.

I used some of the water from the nozzle to aid with lubrication before easing the nozzle up inside of myself. Jesus H _Christ…_ My body spasmed and lurched with the pain of it; each quake seeming to wrench open my additional injuries all over again. I bit my lip, fighting back the shriek that almost came out and clenched the lip of the plastic seat tight; waiting for the agony to subside. When I felt that the worst had passed, I gently pushed the nozzle in deeper. I wanted to go as far as possible; wash out every last bit of grot the prick had left inside of me. No matter how bad it hurt, it was _nothing_ compared to the hurt of having some part of _him_ residing in me.

When I’d pushed the nozzle in as far as I could manage, I gave the bladder a few firm pumps and felt the warm flush of liquid squirt up inside of me. The water ran pink again; speckled with blood, semen and tiny pieces of what I thought to be ragged flesh. Eaten up once more by the drain. Every pump of the bulb wrought pain but also, a prevailing sense of throbbing, aching relief. My chest felt lighter, to think that I was somehow _fixing_ the thing that had been done to me. I was cleansing myself of this vile man’s act; eradicating the part of him that he’d used to mark my body. I felt some of my soul return and nuzzle back into the ragged hole in my body from which it had been violently torn; the very moment I had allowed that bastard to put his hands on me.

I finished showering and cleaning myself as best I could and Fahrenheit wrapped me in a nice, big fluffy towel as I stepped out of the shower block. Because I was still somewhat vacant and traumatized, she took charge of drying me off; kneeling to rub the towel up and down my legs and over my stomach and backside. I felt like a child again, being taken care of by their mother. Fahrenheit was a somewhat insensitive and overly serious woman but she was, in some ways, just as practical as me. When there was a job to do, it seemed as though she just got on with it. Regardless of whether the task pleased her or not.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as Fahrenheit dried off my shoulders. A stranger was staring back at me; a bruised, lifeless imitator with soulless eyes, slack lips and wild hair. Her breasts were marred by blue-black impressions; the size and shape of massive fingerprints. Her naturally dark nipples were almost black from where they had been squeezed. An enormous bruise seamed the line of her round, otherwise soft looking stomach. Her face was a composite in swellings, abrasions and raw, tender skin. Her tongue flicked absently against a split that had appeared in her puffy bottom lip.

She looked like no one I knew. She looked a sad, defeated mockery of a doppelganger; possessing none of the brightness, warmth and perseverance I knew were characteristic of my own face. This woman was dull, defeated and defective. I couldn’t stand to look at her.

Fahrenheit finished drying me and I stood there; arms hanging like a retracted rotary clothes line as she tossed the towel aside and plucked the robe off of the wall.

“Here we go. Arms through.” She urged, plucking up one of my useless hanging limbs and feeding it through the sleeve of the robe. I followed along with her guidance to nurse me through what ought to have been a fairly simple process. The fog had filled my skull again and I was weak from having vomited earlier. With Fahrenheit’s help, I was able to wrap myself in the robe; feeling some comfort from its soft, clean material. I tightened my arms about my midsection and Fahrenheit took me by the shoulders; leading me out of the bathroom and into a brightly lit room just off to the left.

Doctor Amari was waiting for us; petting her hand against a padded cot that she prepped ahead of time. As I lowered myself down onto it, I became aware of a heated discussion that had been passing back and forth between Fahrenheit and the doctor for possibly the past minute or so. I hadn’t been paying attention; preoccupied with my misery and the buzzing, ringing cloud in my mind. Perhaps I did have concussion, I don’t know.

I faded in on Fahrenheit, whose voice was raised with irritation as she helped bring my legs up onto the cot. “ – never mind one that he’s got the hots for. Can you imagine what would happen if he catches wind of this?”

Doctor Amari’s tone was marked with clear impatience as she snapped on a pair of latex gloves from a chair beside the cot. “You’re just catastrophizing things as always, Melanie. What that man is getting away with is _wrong_ and by not following up on it, you’re only enabling his perversities.” She clucked her tongue as she pulled a wheeled tray over to perch beside her. “In my opinion, it’s high time the Mayor pulled his thumb out and did something about it.”

Fahrenheit scoffed, staring off to the side and biting her lip as though only just thinly maintaining control of her temper. “Jesus, doc… you think Marowski would still be drawin’ breath if Hancock knew what he was doing? _Please._ ” She took out her cigarettes and placed one between her lips; lighting it quickly and deftly with a match. “You know how the boss feels about this sort of thing.”

“ _’This sort of thing’?_ You mean gross sexual assault?” Doctor Amari scorned, taking up an Ophthalmoscope and switching it on. She gently pinned back each of my eyelids as she shone the light into my eyes. “Try and follow the light if you can, dear. That’s the way… very good.”

Fahrenheit growled from behind her cumulative wall of smoke. “Don’t try and make out that I’m unsympathetic, Amari. You _know_ that isn’t the case. You think I _like_ this mongrel dog getting away with this shit? It fucking eats me up every time I gotta see a girl in this state.” I heard the flicker of her cigarette ash as she drew air through it. “And the boss hates it more’n I do. If that’s possible. He finds out what Marowski’s been up to, he’ll have that fat bastard danglin’ upside down from the fucking streetlamps by his balls.”

“Which is no less than what he deserves; you ask me.” Amari murmured, passing her finger back and forth in front of my eyes. The way that she had her bottom lip pinched between her teeth made me think she was worried about something. “Her pupils aren’t responding appropriately. Evelyn?” She leaned closer. “Can you tell me if anything is wrong with your vision? Any blurriness around the edges?”

“Always blurry…” I muttered, staring up at the ceiling as Doctor Amari now used an ear thermometer to check my temperature. “I’m really supposed to be wearing glasses but I… left them behind when…” I stopped myself, considering once more just how loco the truth would sound. Wouldn’t be particularly reassuring when the doctor was checking me for a head injury, either. “Just… left ‘em behind.”

“Right. Well, I’m still not entirely convinced that you’re not suffering from concussion but we’ll look over everything else in the meantime. I’ll have some water ready for you when the examination is over.” Amari took a moment to fit a paper mask over her mouth; tying it tightly to the back of her head. “Let me know if you need to be sick at any point. I have a bucket right here. Now, when you’re ready, I’ll just get you to bring your knees up to your chest. Melanie? Put that damned cigarette out and make yourself useful. She’ll likely need your help to keep her legs in place.”

Fahrenheit let out a slow, calm exhale. “Yeah, all right.” She said and a moment later was up by my side; sans one lit cigarette. Her amber eyes peered down at me expectantly. “When you’re ready then.”

I flexed down against the pain and slowly brought my knees up to my chest; not unfamiliar with the requested position. I’d spent most of my labor with Shaun in such a way; legs supported by a pair of stirrups but otherwise almost identical. And most earlier internal scans, tests and Pap smears had been done the same way. Fahrenheit provided support by sliding her arm in under my knees; pushing up and forward so as to keep my upper thighs pinned to my chest. It seemed strangely intimate a thing to do; especially given that I had only barely met this girl the once.

“Good job.” Amari stated, having wheeled herself down so that she could get a clear unobstructed view between my legs. She brought her tray of tools with her and I focused once more on the ceiling, so I couldn’t have too much of an idea as to what she was about to do. “Now, some of these things are going to feel a little cold and naturally, there may be some pain from when I distend the speculum. I’ll try to keep it as brief as possible. Just going to take a little look and make good and certain there isn’t too much damage.”

“S’okay, doc.” I murmured, swiping my tongue out across my ragged lip. My mouth still felt a little manky from where I’d thrown up earlier. To distract myself, I turned my head over towards Fahrenheit; thinking to reaffirm my previous request. “After I’m done here… would you mind asking the mayor to maybe come and talk to me? If that’s okay with him, I mean? I’d walk over myself of course but… maybe I should rest? You know…”

Fahrenheit didn’t even meet my eye but continued staring out into the nothingness that existed somewhere over the peak of each of my knees. “All you need to be focusing on right now is your treatment and answering the doctors’ questions. We can worry about the rest of the details after.”

Doctor Amari huffed from behind her mask; corresponding to the very moment I felt the cold press of the speculum as she inserted it into my vagina. I flinched and whimpered as she proceeded to wind the screw with her right hand; opening me up painfully for inspection. “Why don’t you just be upfront with the poor girl, Melanie? Serves you no purpose in the long run to string along her expectations like this.”

“Does if it keeps her calm enough for you to treat her in an orderly fashion.”

I lifted my head from the bed; staring back and forth between them in turn. “What do you mean ‘be up front?’” I felt my heart sink horribly within the confines of my still aching chest. “Are you saying I… I’m not _allowed_ to speak to the mayor?”

Fahrenheit continued to be evasive. “You can speak to him as much as you like.”

“Though not about _whatever_ you like.” Amari concluded, her eyes glancing over towards Fahrenheit in a way that made me think that she was disappointed with the younger woman. I felt the press of her tools work their way deeper inside of me; opening up my tender caverns for further inspection. “And frankly, I find it difficult to believe that Mayor Hancock hasn’t already got _some_ idea that this sort of thing has been going on under his nasal cavity. All of these girls… Not to mention that he’s hardly what you would call stupid. Irresponsible at times, true, but he’s hardly invested in the art of avoiding a difficult matter.”

“So you can respect how difficult it’s been to keep all of this under wraps.” Fahrenheit stated, shifting her weight from one leg to the other and then leaning down against me once more. Her already narrow lips were stretched to the bare minimum of existence; a compliment to her underlying emotions, it seemed. “It’s a necessary evil. One which I couldn’t expect you to understand anything about, Amari.”

“Ah, I see. Because my experiences of the world have been so limited, is _that_ what you’re suggesting, Melanie?” Amari stated tartly, her tone increasing in its frustration but her hands remaining as gentle as ever as she continued to poke and prod inside of me. “Just taking a small swab now, dear. Shouldn’t be too much longer…”

Fahrenheit didn’t bite at the dangling provocation. “You don’t know _Goodneighbor._ You didn’t grow up here, didn’t even get a look at the place until after Hancock took over. Marowski is just one guy. Back then, when Vic was in charge, it was _every_ other guy pulling this sorta shit.”

“This is all getting out of hand. Your trepidations notwithstanding.” Doctor Amari sighed, placing one of her tools down and picking up a tube of unlabelled cream. She squirted a dob of it onto her right index finger and then proceeded to ease that finger up inside of me. She moved it around and though it hurt at first, a feeling of relief shortly thereafter followed as whatever was in the cream took effect. She repeated the treatment with my bottom, using a (hopefully) separate finger and a fresh blob of cream. “You have a few tears on the inside but nothing that won’t heal up with the correct treatment. This should ease the inflammation for now, dear. It’ll also act as a numbing agent for when I administer the Stimpak.”

My head shot from the cot again as Doctor Amari retrieved her finger and immediately replaced her gloves with a clean, fresh set.

“Wait… _where_ exactly are you planning on… sticking me?”

The doctor peered over the top of her mask at me empathetically as she unclamped the speculum and placed it aside. “Because you have injuries to the vagina and anus, I’m afraid I’ll need to inject the Stimpak in a location where it will be most effective in treating both areas. The complimentary region will be the perineum.” She plucked up a Stimpak from the tray and I could feel my organs just about shrinking in on themselves as she tapped the side of the needle. Sweat broke out on the palms of my hands and in the creases of my elbows. “I know it’s not going to be very nice, dear. But it will heal you right up on the inside and you won’t have to live with the pain of those injuries. Of course, you don’t have to accept the injection if you don’t wish to.”

I shook my head; telling my brain and my body to stop being so silly. It was foolish for a woman my age to pay heed to an infantile fear of needles; especially when you consider how many of them I’ve had in my lifetime. And how desperately I now required this particular one.

“No… it’s fine.” I said, resting my head back and biting my lip as I gazed up at the ceiling once more. A slight tremor had resurfaced beneath my skin; one that so intensely paralleled the quaking beat of my heart. “Just… make it quick, yeah?”

Fahrenheit’s lip quirked up for one of the first and only times I had ever witnessed it. “Well _that_ proves beyond doubt that you’re _definitely_ not from Goodneighbor. Most folks here are _bustin’_ for a pinch and here you are all scared of ‘em.”

“That is not a fact that anyone ought to take pride in, Melanie.” Doctor Amari scolded and I flinched as I felt a cold, wet wipe slide against the band of my perineum. “Sorry, dear. Now, just a little sting…”

I felt the sharp pierce of the needle in that delicate stretch of flesh and whimpered, pressing my lips together tight and gripping Fahrenheit’s arm with my hand. I could give two shits if she cared. Tears sprang to my eyes again as my hatred for Marowski intensified further. I knew that what Doctor Amari was doing was helping me but I was so miserable with the need for the treatment and I _hated_ needles. I _hated_ them. And Stimpak’s had long, thick needles and took ages to dispense; especially if you needed to get them into a thin layer of flesh. Had to be careful not to go too deep and the fluid was thick; requiring slow ease of administration.

“Good girl, just a little more…” Doctor Amari said, as tears slipped and slid down either side of my face; my fist clenching about Fahrenheit’s elbow so hard that I’m sure I would have left bruises. It felt like the dreadful needle was _never_ going to come out and it stung so fucking _bad_ down there.

“Ow, ow, ow…” I whimpered, sniffing pathetically and reaching up with my spare hand to wipe at my eyes. I caught Fahrenheit sort of rolling her own but I tried not to let it get to me. She was so… removed. Hardened from all her own trauma, I imagined. I wasn’t going to be garnering much sympathy from her and there was little point in taking it personal.

The dreadful needle eventually came out but Doctor Amari wasn’t done there. My tears renewed themselves as she informed me that a separate injection would be required to treat the wounds to my face. The swelling would come down considerably from the effects of the Stimpak but since most of the bruising had already appeared, I would simply have to wear some of this for the next couple of days.

“I _am_ sorry, darling.” She said, her voice a little tearful itself as she injected the second Stimpak into the fatty deposit of my cheek. I was crying well and proper now, because this night had just been so awful and I was hurting in so many places and even the things that were supposed to make me better, were hurting. It was all getting too much.

And it wasn’t over yet. As Doctor Amari helped me to sit up and carefully sip from a cool glass of water, Fahrenheit perched herself on the side of the cot. She took a deep breath and met my eyes with the steeliest and most serious expression I had seen from her yet. Which, as you can likely imagine, was pretty intense.

“Okay…” She said, slowly and evenly. In the least, she didn’t look pleased by what she was about to say and it made me feel relieved in some ways. “Here’s what happened to you tonight. Listen closely and retain it to memory.”

I sat there, bug eyed and disbelieving as Fahrenheit told me a tale of an experience I had no recollection of having lived myself. How, after I’d shared a drink with Mayor Hancock, I’d taken myself over to the Third Rail; keen to continue either enjoying myself or looking to further drown my sorrows. The reason as to why I had decided to keep on drinking was left up to me to decide. How generous.

In any event, after drinking to the point of apparently becoming gluttonously drunk, I had tried to make my way up the stairs and had tripped; slamming my head into the steel treads.

“That’s how you got the bruises on your face.” Fahrenheit explained, passing her hand over her own face as though I needed a reminder as to where my own was located. “I was there at the time and I found you; floundering about all bloodied up and I brought you over to Doctor Amari. She patched you up and I took you back to your friends at the _Hotel Rexford._ That’s the bee all and end all of it.”

I blinked at her; confused and uncomprehending. I knew there was something distasteful going on here; something that Doctor Amari clearly didn’t agree with, either in her personal or professional capacity but I didn’t have enough information to get my brain around it. Not to mention the state of my head didn’t exactly help for me to link things together at the time. I was still foggy with pain, exhaustion and trauma.

“Wait… what are you _talking_ about?” I said, genuinely confused as I gripped my glass of water tightly between both hands. Doctor Amari, busying herself with the sterilization of her equipment, had her back to me and clearly wasn’t keen to involve herself in this aspect of the conversation. “That isn’t what happened. Marowski… he…”

Fahrenheit held up a cautionary finger. “There _was_ no Marowski. Marowski had nothing to do with any of this. So far as everyone else outside of this room is concerned, Marowski was doing nothing except sleeping off whatever cheap, over fermented moonshine he’d poured down his gullet today. He never touched you. You never even _spoke_ to the man.”

My lips wobbled as I continued to burble my confusion; eschewing my water in favor of trying to muddle out just what the fuck Fahrenheit was going on with. A hint of anger started leaching into my body; to think for even just a _moment_ that I was being made to just… suck it up and _live_ with the horrible thing Marowski had done to me and not say boo about it. I felt… undermined somehow. And further disrespected.

“He… he _assaulted_ me.” I said, thinking that spelling it out might have made Fahrenheit appreciate just how seriously I had taken the thing. Her expression didn’t change to reflect the shock and horror that I felt permeating my own soul and my indignation worsened. “He _hurt_ me! He… he tore me up inside! He might have gotten me pregnant… or given me some sort of- of disease!! Why should _I_ have to live with all of that, while he just gets to walk away scot free? He _can’t_ just get away with it!”

Fahrenheit’s face was firm and as uncompromising as her voice when next she spoke. “I’m sorry.” She said. “But that’s exactly what he’s going to do.”

“NO!” I yelled, slamming the glass down so hard on the table beside me that water burst from the interior and splattered down all over the bed. Doctor Amari spun about to face me and Fahrenheit stared back, her posture not altering a jot. “ _NO!_ That’s not _fair!!_ How can he just get away with it?! It’s wrong! It’s WRONG!!”

I swung my legs off of the side of the cot, ignoring Doctor Amari’s repeated requests that I lay back down and finish drinking my water. Fahrenheit was already on her feet and blocking the doorway; arms folded stalwartly across her chest.

“Get out of my way.” I snarled at her, swaying from side to side as I made every effort to keep myself standing.

Fahrenheit just shook her head at me.

“Goddammit! Get out of my way!! I’m going to speak to the mayor!” I yelled and made to stride on out through the door; intending to knock her down if she persisted in blocking my path. I was bigger than her and most likely just as strong; given our near matching musculature. If I’d been in prime condition, I’m certain I could have taken her out in a bare handed confrontation if the need for it had arisen.

But I _wasn’t_ in prime condition. I was ravaged, aching, over-emotional and likely concussed. Fahrenheit simply put her shoulder into my sore and bruised stomach and drove me back towards the cot; using both her arms to keep mine up and away from her body. I tried to sink my weight into the ground, to keep her from pushing me backwards but I was too wobbly and off center.

“Why are you doing this?!” I shrieked; sobbing helplessly as she pinned me back down to the bed, gesturing urgently with one arm for Doctor Amari to help. I lashed out with my freed hand, slapping at Fahrenheit’s scarred cheek a few times before the doctor interceded and reefed my arm up against the wall of her chest. “Why are you _helping_ that bastard?! I _don’t_ understand! _I don’t understand!!_ ”

“Then maybe shut up for five minutes and I’ll do my goddamned best to _help_ you understand.” Fahrenheit said reasonably, pushing down hard against me in order to prevent further insurgences. Her eyes bore into mine from less than a few inches away and her damaged cheek throbbed a nasty shade of red from where I had slapped her. “But I _need_ you… to stay _calm._ Now, the doc’s gonna give you something for that. Gonna help with the pain too, so quit with all the squirming or you’re just gonna make it hurt worse.”

“I don’t want to go to sleep.” I whimpered, eyes oozing tears as I saw the doctor pinch her teeth about the cap of a syringe she held in her right hand. I recognized the purple quality of the liquid as the opiate based analgesic Med-X; mainly because it had been prescribed to Nate whilst he was in hospital, being treated for his burns.

“You’re not going to go to sleep.” Doctor Amari said soothingly, releasing my arm when she felt it relax and taking up a swab so that she could wipe a cool, soothing line across my bicep. I looked away as she injected me; pressing my lips back tightly together until the sting had passed. “This will just take the edge of, so that you’ll be able to sleep eventually. And yes, it may perhaps make you feel that slightest bit calmer.”

“Which is exactly why Pattie’s shootin’ up the stuff every five seconds.” Fahrenheit muttered, offhand as she plucked up a chair from nearby and plonked it roughly down beside the cot. She sat in it, knees apart and elbows resting on each. She waited as Doctor Amari assisted me with putting on the fresh, clean pair of underpants she had earlier offered and bringing the glass of water back into my possession. Only when she was certain that I was calm, did she start to speak.

“I know that none of this would make much sense to either of you.” She said quietly, gazing down at her hands as I sipped the cool liquid slowly. The throbbing aches of my body were already beginning to feel further and further away. Guess that Med-X stuff worked jolly quick, thank goodness. “But that’s because you know jack-shit about the monster who ran this place before Hancock took over. He was a tyrant. And he _surrounded_ himself with other tyrants; opportunistic monsters who used this town to fulfil any and all of their disgusting desires. Not just women either; near _everyone_ got used as sport. But all that changed when Hancock took over.” Her eyes met mine and though her expression didn’t change, I’m certain I saw something akin to vulnerability pass across her gaze. It was gone just as soon as I’d fancied I saw it but I had no doubts the feeling persisted in her mind. “He turned this town around. Now Marowski… he never showed his hand during the coup. He just… waited on the sidelines to see who might have come out on top. Which was a relief in a lot of ways because if he thought to throw his hat into the fray…”

She paused, examining the side of one of her fingers; picking skin from what I supposed to be a dried blister. “You’re not from around here, so I can’t just assume you know who I’m talking about when I say the Triggermen?” I shook my head, being entirely unfamiliar with the term and she continued. “Long story short; the Triggermen are a gang. Thugs for hire. All usually dressed up like old war mobsters and carrying submachine guns. I’d be surprised if you haven’t run across them at some juncture; they’re fairly thick on the ground out there.”

She wasn’t wrong in her assumption. I cast my mind back to less than a month prior; when Codsworth, Dogmeat, Piper and myself, rescued Nick from Vault 114. He had gone there, in search of what he thought to have been a kidnap victim, only to find the young woman in question had run off with the head of the gang, who had taken up occupancy in the Vault. Fellow by the name of Skinny Malone. Guy had rounded up on us when we were making our way out of the Vault; championed on both sides by a spattering of individuals dressed predominately in black and gray suits. Toting Tommy Guns, old world Chicago accents and Wise guy attitudes. They must have been Triggermen, I realized. Though what separated them from the guys I saw trolling up and down Goodneighbor’s streets; who also carried Submachine guns and spoke like mobsters, I couldn’t be sure. I think Fahrenheit might have gauged the confusion in my expression, because she cleared her throat and straightened up in her chair; crossing her arms tight over her chest once again.

“The fella’s you see out there; in the canary suits, are the Neighborhood Watch. _Vastly_ different from the Triggermen. The Watch are made up of guys from the original coup and other folks from Goodneighbor who are loyal the town and specifically, the mayor. Adrian Buchalter acts as Head of Personnel, whilst I oversee the tactical administrations.” She held up the palm of her hand, drifting it over to the side as a means of physically creating a distinction. “The _Triggermen_ , on the other hand, can be found in Goodneighbor but they are _not_ Goodneighbor loyal. They are loyal only to themselves _and_ whomever has the biggest cap purse. But, what a lot of people don’t remember, is that they were originally formed by and from _within_ Marowski’s family some generations back. Because of this and due to the major discerning factor of him having a shit tonne of money in his back pocket, they reserve loyalty almost exclusively to him.”

“But… wouldn’t Mayor Hancock have more money than Marowski?” I said, feeling stupid even as the question had left my mouth. I knew there was something quite obvious that I was missing but I was too fucked up and drowsy to make sense of my _toes_ ; let alone the political complications of this post-apocalyptic bedlam.

But Fahrenheit demonstrated some mercy in not making fun of me. “Hancock is wealthy, sure but the difference is that he is _asset_ rich. His fortune is linked irretrievably to the title he boasts, the properties that he owns in Goodneighbor and the town coughers that he manages. He does have a modest savings of caps secreted away for ‘retirement’ purposes but it’s laughable compared to Marowski’s net worth.” Fahrenheit tapped the cots mattress firmly. “Marowski, you see, has a fortune subsisting _entirely_ of caps. Not to mention the cut he takes from his little side business in Chems. Just something else he’d get his fingers chopped for if Hancock found out. And though the Neighborhood Watch _and_ the majority of the towns’ folk are loyal to Hancock, that loyalty persists only in the width, breadth and depth of Goodneighbor itself. Out _there_ , in the big wide Wasteland, Triggermen are thick on the ground; subsisting of any number of smaller offshoots and larger, better supplemented organisations. On an individual estimate, they outnumber the Neighborhood Watch _five to one._ ” She looked at me very intensely then; beseeching my understanding. “Think about that for just a moment; five to _one._ For every one of our tough, crazy, loyal to a fault Watchmen, there are five unscrupulous, deadly, fuck-your-Mom-for-a-cap scumbags just eager to line their pockets for the price of pulling on a trigger.”

It was all beginning to make a terrible, tragic sort of sense and I could feel my hopes for penance drift ever further beyond the point of retrieval.

“So it’s all… political?”

Fahrenheit tilted her head to the side. “Yes. And no. You see, I wouldn’t be exaggerating when I say that Mayor Hancock is by far the most successful mayor this town has ever had. It’s no coincidence that he’s managed to maintain his constituency for over a decade. Every once in a while he opens the door for other folks to take a shot at being mayor but everyone just votes him straight back in. Not just because he’s popular, mind you but because he is a genuinely good person.” She used her fingers as a means to calculate Hancock’s apparently numerous positive character qualities. “He’s noble, righteous, decent and idealistic as all fuck. And he doesn’t compromise when it comes to his values. He has nothing but contempt for opportunists; as you saw earlier today yourself. If he were to find out what Marowski was doing…”

Amari nodded her head, comprehending at last where Fahrenheit had been going with all this. “He’d be right there on his doorstep; sticking a boot into his backside, I imagine.”

“That’s cleaning it up a good deal but sure.” Fahrenheit said, a sour note marking her otherwise inflectionless tone. “And I don’t know for certain just _how_ loyal some of these Triggermen are to Marowski. I’ve gotten a peak at some of his accounts however and I know that most of them are on some sort of payroll scheme of his.”

Amari made a sound of pure astonishment from somewhere off to the left of the cot. “You mean to suggest that he pays them a… wage? Like an annual salary?”

Fahrenheit snorted sordidly as she leaned back in her chair, arms pinned once more across her chest. This seemed to be something of a comforting posture for her. “Ingenious, huh? I hate that the bastard could be so goddamned sneaky. It ensures their complicity, you see? And, more importantly, their loyalty. Been going on long enough I imagine that most of the Triggermen about the Commonwealth wouldn’t take too kindly to their funds being cut off.” She paused and then, in a tone that suggested she dearly regretted whatever she was about to say next, added: “And there is… one other thing…”

“God knows what could make it any worse.” Amari remarked dryly, which rent a humorless bark of a laugh from Fahrenheit.

“Oh, it _is_ worse. And worse all the more because it implies that Goodneighbor inadvertently owes something to Marowski for something he’s done on the quiet. Something I wouldn’t have even known about myself if _I_ hadn’t run with the Triggermen a couple of years back.” She sat up in her seat once more, apparently as unable as I was to rest comfortably. She leaned forward, wending her fingers together and staring down at them with a sickened expression on her face. “There are a… couple of notable head honcho’s in the Triggermen who had their eyes trained on Goodneighbor since Vic’s time. Only gotten bigger and badder in the last couple of years; looking to put themselves on the ‘old tarnished crowd’ and make this place their home. A big fortified base of operations; right on the apron of Diamond City. They got the manpower to pull it off too. But Marowski… he’s gotten them to steer clear by paying them off. Sorta… Bunker Hill style. Pays ‘em in caps and… info. Maybe other things too, I don’t know.”

“You mean to say-?!” Amari blurted, not bothering to tack anything on to the end of her sentence. It was a statement that required nothing more than to express her obvious shock and disbelief. Contextual.

Fahrenheit nodded bitterly. “Yeah. Goodneighbor would most likely be overrun by now if Marowski wasn’t keeping those bastards at bay. Suits him to keep living a quiet comfortable life in town. Too much competition in the hierarchies of the Triggermen, you see? But he gets pissed off with how things are going, or the boss rounds up on him that one too many times…” She passed a finger across her throat and her meaning could not be more apparent. Not just the mayor but _all_ of Goodneighbor… and the world that they had built here within its walls. Imperfect but apparently… preferable by far to what they had once experienced. And who was I to suggest that whatever façade they were living wasn’t worth protecting? Was there much better to be found out there somewhere else; in a world that had already proven to be as savage as this one?

I could see Amari’s head moving from side to side in my peripheral vision; murky though it was.  “Unbelievable. He’s only gone and stacked the deck, has he not? If he were to get wind that Mayor Hancock had the dogs out for him, all he would need to do is call in the Triggermen on his pay roll…”

“And if Mayor Hancock were to have him killed, the spring of funds dries up and the Triggermen have no reason to keep their claws out of Goodneighbor anymore.” I rounded off, feeling the tide of desperation that had been surging in my chest, turn and ebb away entirely. It left in its wake a vast and dry plateau which scorched and seared the edges of my soul. Because now I understood. There was no way that Marowski would ever be made to stand accountable for what he had done to me. This was the new world and in this new world, there were practicalities that needed to be observed. And this preceded the rights and feelings of the lost and despairing individuals within it. It was the _masses_ who demanded consideration; the greater whole, the sum of what sad dredges remained of this shattered world.

It could never be pieced back together to form what which had once been its seamless entirety. And the people of this world felt only the smallest pinpricks of its historical morals; buried somewhere beneath the collective jumbled ruins of its past. Not enough to move them. Less still to guide them.

“You’ve got to admit; its infallible logic.” Fahrenheit was saying; unaware of those dreadful thoughts befouling my mind and weakening what tiny iota of strength I still had in my possession. “Wouldn’t have thought the guy could be smart enough to pull something off like that. But he’s got us all well and truly caught in a trap. And he was goddamned smart enough to make good and sure that _I_ knew. Me and no one else.”

“Why do you suppose _that_ is?” Amari asked.

“Because _I_ know how much we have to lose. And Marowski knows that too. He knows that I would do _anything_ to protect John Hancock and this town. Because the alternative, that some other tyrant could perch themselves up there and send out his goon squad to start raping the shit out of us and stealing from us and-” Emotion seeped into her voice and it made me look up, because it was the first time that whole night I had seen her start to crack. And it was only the smallest hint of despair that seeped through; little different to when a tiny pebble leaves a crack in your windshield. But I suppose to someone as composed and orderly as Fahrenheit, it was a massive and embarrassing concession of her internal fears and she make a solid attempt at hiding it from the both of us.

But Amari wasn’t the least fooled and quickly moved to the younger woman’s side, sliding an arm about her shoulder.

“My darling… you are letting your fear get the better of you with such thoughts.” She said, giving Fahrenheit’s sturdy bicep a comforting rub. “Surely, if you were to explain the logistics to Mayor Hancock, some solution should present itself?”

Fahrenheit groaned with frustration; tilting her head back so that her eyes awned towards the ceiling. “You don’t know John Hancock like I do. The man is noble to a _fault_. And though he doesn’t seem like it, he is ruled by his principles.” She made a V with her index and middle fingers and emulated a walking man through the air. “He’d march straight up to Marowski with a head full of steam and pull the trigger on him. He wouldn’t care that it would bring a wave of Triggermen crashing down on him. He only cares about doing the right thing.” She wiped at her eyes, which looked a little wet and laughed without humor. “He’s too goddamn moral for his own good. Which is why _I’ve_ got to make all these horrible decisions. Why _I’ve_ got to sit here and ask some poor girl whose been roughed up and _raped_ by that knuckle dragging asswipe to _lie_ and _suck it up_ and _pretend_ like it never happened…”

Amari reached across Fahrenheit’s chest to place a reassuring hand to her far shoulder; assuaging her once more heightening emotions. “But, you can’t be certain that things would go back to the way they were before. You’re letting what happened in the past cloud your perspectives.”

Fahrenheit rolled her eyes to the side, clearly unconvinced as she took another cigarette out from her side pouch and lit it. Amari did not make a remark this time; clearly understanding of the other woman’s need to steady her nerves a little.

“We can’t take the chance.” Fahrenheit said, once she’d taken a few puffs from the cigarette. I continued slurping at my insubstantial water; craving that smouldering little cylinder between her fingers more by the moment. “There are too many monsters out there. I know. I _met_ some of them when I ran with the Triggermen. And I’ve run afoul of most of them back when Vic headed the town. We can’t… we can’t risk _losing_ Hancock. He’s a combination you don’t often see in this world anymore. Tough and fair -” She tittered out a fond laugh, forehead resting to the palm of her hand. “And more of a feminist than most chicks I know. And the Ghouls have already been driven out of Diamond City… most other settlements were destroyed by the Institute along the way. Where could we all possibly go if we had to run away? This is our _home_ , Amari.”

Her eyes finally came to rest on me again and I turned into her gaze; feeling the force of her desperation flood over me.

“And I know it means _nothing_ to you and I’m sorry to ask you to do something so horrible for a place that you don’t even call home yourself…” She gestured towards me; appealing for my consideration on the matter. “But all I can ask is that you _try_ to understand the situation we’re in. And take some sort of mercy on us. I _know_ what’s been done to you is awful. Monstrous. I know of what I speak. But if you go to Mayor Hancock with this, the resultant affect will be so cataclysmic that it will factor into the potential ruination of this town and worse still, risk the life of that good and decent man who has saved so many of us. Is that what you want?” Her face wrenched with such pain that it sent me spiralling firmly over the edge of control and I was crying all over again; feeling trapped and wronged and so, horribly accountable. “Can you not show mercy to the man whose first act towards you was one of kindness and security? Can you not now return the favor and protect him? Please, in the very least… If you can’t think of the rest of us-”

I sobbed, hunched over my glass like a miserly vulture; hating her and hating Goodneighbor and all the people in it for forcing me into accepting this contemptible thing. For the second time that night, I felt bullied and blackmailed and forced into a corner from which there was nowhere left to turn. I had no power in this world and no rights. And a part of me, a nasty selfish part of me, wanted to tell Fahrenheit to go fuck herself and march right on over to the Statehouse to tell Mayor John Hancock everything. Regain _some_ small scrap of self-worth and take control of a life that hour by hour was being gradually wrested from my hands.

Two things prevented me from doing this very thing. One: Fahrenheit’s desperation and outright declaration concerning her loyalty to the town and its mayor. It sought to reason that a woman as strong and as desperate as her, might be capable of doing _anything_ so as to prevent Goodneighbor from being, in her mind at least, destroyed. She was asking me nicely now but I got the impression that her civility might not persist if I in turn refused to acknowledge her request. If she thought I might put this place in danger, she might very well have me dragged down and alley and disposed of. I wouldn’t put it past her.

And the second: I _did_ feel as though I very much owed John Hancock the favor of my silence. Because he had stepped in to protect me from Finn and demonstrated nothing but kindness and support since I’d entered the town. I believed him to be a good man and I didn’t wish to be the one to have the work of this good man destroyed. And the people of this town weren’t bad. Not… all of them, anyway. They seemed like an eclectic bunch of wayward weirdo’s but I wasn’t exactly run of the mill normal myself. And this _was_ their home. For better, for worse. What right did I have to ruin this for them, simply because _I_ had been too weak to stand up for myself? Because _I_ went and made a stupid mistake in my desperation for money?

Angry and devastated though I was, I could perceive the issue from Fahrenheit’s perspective. The collective _sum,_ not just the individual. And she had shown some kindness in having asked this of me, rather than threatened or demanded. Though I still considered her to be a cold and condescending woman, I could see that she was not heartless. She just… wanted to protect the town that she loved. And a man who she very clearly loved as well.

And because I could understand and respect the nature of love, it was on _this_ basis alone that I took mercy.

“It’s… it’s okay…” I murmured, biting back the last lingering traces of a sob; the glass trembling uncontrollably in my hands.  “I promise I won’t… tell him. I don’t want anything to happen to him… or to any of you. Not… anything like this.”

Fahrenheit looked relieved; her body sinking down into her chair as though the strings that had been holding her joints terse had been snipped free. “Thankyou.” She said and loosed a breath; deep and slow, adding after a moments further thought; “You might wish to be careful in your interactions with the boss from here on out. Like Amari said earlier; he’s very clever. Plays the fool when it suits him but he’s sharper than just about anyone I’ve ever met. You’d be amazed by just how much he can figure out; simply from a person’s facial expression.” She tapped one grime rimmed nail against her temple. “He’s rather intuitive like that. If you don’t think you’re up to the task of hiding the truth from him; I would simply suggest avoiding him where possible. Because he can be relentless when he thinks that something unjust has occurred and he’s not privy with the knowledge of it.”

I bit my lip, wondering just how simple a task it would be to avoid the mayor in a town this small. Because I knew for a fact that I wasn’t especially good at lying. Especially where highly charged emotions were concerned.

“I’ll do my best.” I said, swallowing down another gulp of water as I felt the room spin. I was starting to feel a little drunk; no doubt affected by the Med-X. Reminded me a little of the pain relief I’d received when I’d given birth to Shaun. “I promise I _won’t_ tell him your secret.”

“And what a terrible secret it is that we all must share in.” Amari murmured remorsefully; moving from Fahrenheit’s side and back towards the bench. She resumed the task of cleaning her tools; eyes downcast and movements unfocused. “The thought alone of having to hide something like this away…”

She sounded sad and because I was feeling a tad loopy, I tried to think of something that might cheer her up. And blurted out something rather odd.

“Well, if it helps, I’ve got a nice, juicy brain for you to look at tomorrow. Might be a good distraction?”

Amari’s arms paused in their movements and she glanced over her shoulder at me curiously. “I beg your pardon but you have a… _what_?”

I smacked a hand to my forehead; annoyed for having let that slip ahead of time. “Dang, that was _supposed_ to be a surprise! Oh well, _act_ surprised, okay? Nick’ll be _so_ mad I let that slip, he was _really_ looking forward to seeing your face when he opened the cooler…”

Amari’s lips curled up to form the slightest peak of a smile. “I see… well, in the very least it looks as though that Med-X is finally starting to take effect.”

I smiled back at her, wiping at my sore, stinging eyes as I polished off the last of the water from the glass. “I feel as a lofty, voluminous cloud; floating on a fervent ray of obsequious sunshine. That’s a big word for tonight, right?” I remarked, cocking my head in retrospection of my own garbled statement. “Sunshine…”

Fahrenheit, seemingly unconcerned by my rambling diatribe, climbed to her feet and took a moment to dust cigarette ash from her lap. “And of course, you’ll be needing to try and keep this quiet from your friends as well. Needless to say that the more people who know, the more likely it is that the information will make its way back to Hancock’s ears.” She dabbed the cigarette lightly in my direction; some ash falling astray from the tip. “Again; he can work a lot out of a person and you’re travelling with that… reporter of _all_ people-”

I sniffed tetchily. “I’m hardly gonna sit down and give her an exclusive on the matter. Like I want all the Commonwealth to know about the fact that I needed to use an ass douche.” I glanced down as Doctor Amari returned to my bedside to press a thick, white tablet into the palm of my hand. For some stupid reason, I thought that she was handing me a Mentats and attempted to pass it back. “Oh, thankyou all the same doctor but I think I may have had my fill of mind altering substances for the evening… Given that I’m seeing about three of you at the moment.” I petted my fingertips to her chin. “All of which are just as pretty as the last, just so you know.”

Amari chuckled lightly as she dropped the tablet back into my hand and used her own to press my fingers in around it. “I hardly think it would be appropriate for a treating physician to supply you with recreational Chems, dear. This is an ECP. Take that now and it’ll be extremely unlikely that you should fall pregnant from this… event.” She used a bottle of Purified water to top up my glass so that I could take the tablet right away. “I’ll also be sending you on your way with a course of anti-biotics; in the offhand chance you were to develop an infection.”

“Oh, thank the Lord… oh thank you so much.” I whispered, shoving the tablet directly between my lips and washing it down my throat with a big gulp of water. An ECP was of course emergency contraception; what I more commonly referred to as the ‘morning after pill’. I wasn’t certain that they were capable of being produced here in the future, so it was relief to have been handed one. Now the chances of my falling pregnant to Marowski were practically nil. Though there was still the issue of…

Amari seemed to read my mind because she bent down beside the bed and passed her hand across my head once more; smiling supportively.

“I’ve taken a sample from your cervix so that I can test it for the presence of STI’s. I _will_ need you to come back in a couple of weeks, because not all of these things can be tested for directly post… event. We will do a small, hopefully non-invasive pap smear and I will run the results here in the lab myself.”

She gave me a small box which contained a sheathe of roughly eight or so capsules; advising that I only take them if I truly believed that I was suffering from a urinary tract infection. (It was nice that she trusted me to make my own assessment of this. Most doctors in my time would insist that I come back for a separate appointment). When I queried her about payment, Amari waved it off with an offended snort.

“If I didn’t think he was unkind enough to add it to your so-called ‘debt’, I would be forwarding the bill to Marowski himself.” She snapped, pouring still more hot water into the sink and using a pair of rubber gloves to clean and sterilize her supplies. “But given the fact that it would only bring more grief to bear against you; I won’t. There is no charge for the treatment, nor the medication.” She turned back to the sink, her lips pressed together so tightly that the creases around her mouth met in the center like spider webs. “I couldn’t stomach taking money for something like this. In any event; try to sleep tonight, dear. No doubt I will see you in the morning with this… brain you were mentioning.”

“Remember: Act surprised.” I urged her, partly serious as I slowly eased my body up off of the cot. “And… so far as Nick is concerned… you only treated me for the ‘fall’ I took, okay? I… don’t want him catching on. He’d want to take it further.”

Amari nodded grudgingly. “Knowing Mr Valentine, he is probably already out looking for you. But I can promise you to be discreet.” She cast a wary glance towards Fahrenheit. “Though I do maintain my stance that this entire thing is utterly wrong.”

“If only the world was strong enough to hold up the values of what is ‘just’ and ‘right’.” Fahrenheit said philosophically, watching me to see I suppose whether I might need any assistance. When I had steadied myself on my feet, she said; “I’ll walk you back to the _Hotel Rexford._ And in the morning, I’ll speak with Marowski myself. Let him know that I’m aware of what happened and that he needs to start being more reasonable with his repayment timeframe.”

“This _is_ him being reasonable.” I said, parroting back the very words that Marowski had said to me earlier that evening. I chuckled bitterly, laughter that soon descended back into virulent sobs as I held my arms up in the air; staring down at the white sleeves of the gown. “Oh God… I can’t go back in this. It’ll be too obvious…”

Doctor Amari came towards me with the winter jacket and pressed it gently to my chest; encouraging me to take it.

“You tell the others that your clothes were bloody from your fall and that I gave you something to wear so that you were comfortable.” She said, using that same reassuring tone as I wrapped the jacket back around the outside of the robe. “There is nothing suspicious about that. And I will validate your story if need be.” She smiled as her palm worked comforting circles across the wall of my back. “Go to bed and try and get some sleep. That is all that can be done for now.”

I thanked the doctor again as I slid my socks and boots back on; nearly toppling onto my side as I lost my balance. Fahrenheit steadied me at the last moment and seemed to decide it might be safer to assist me up the stairs. She kept her hand clenched tight about my inside elbow as she guided me back up into the main foyer; taking small, dragging and clearly impatient steps the whole while. But then, could I blame her? This was likely not how she had imagined spending her evening. Though it was hardly what I would call _my_ ideal night out, either.

As we emerged from the stairwell, Dogmeat materialized suddenly about my legs; his tail brushing the exposed flesh of my thigh as he circled me. He pushed his nose into my palm, sniffed and then moved to stand in front of me; cocking his head inquisitively to one side. His ears went back and a low whine eased out; tail tucking between his legs. He looked… I don’t quite know how to describe it… Like he was _ashamed_ of himself, or something. As though _he_ had done something wrong.

“Hey boy.” I murmured, throat gurgling and croaky as I reached out to cup my hand under his jaw. His whining increased as he eased his big, fluffy head against my touch; his tongue lapping my fingers comfortingly. I think he knew, somehow, what had happened. “It’s okay… I’ll be just fine, darling. It wasn’t your fault.”

Dogmeat pressed the top of his head against my thighs and then turned, pushing his shoulder and the length of his body against me; sort of like a canine hug I suppose. I heard footsteps approach from across the room and glanced up to see Nick Valentine striding towards me with a particularly curt expression on his face.

“Evelyn… I thought I made it clear that it would be safer for you to remain in the hotel foyer?” He said, mechanical eyes widening as he got close enough to get a good look at my injuries. “What the- What on earth happened? Did someone attack you?”

I shook my head; keeping my own eyes cast down at Dogmeat. I wasn’t sure if I had it in me to keep it together just yet; doped up with a generous serve of Med-X or not. And maintaining a mistruth whilst looking Nick Valentine in the eye was hard enough; even if I was to find myself in a sturdy state of mind. And I was far from that.

“No Nick… I feel so silly. Clair had gone to bed and I didn’t just… want to help myself to another drink at the bar.” I gave what I hope was a careless looking shrug of my shoulder. “So I… kinda just took myself over to the Third Rail. I thought it’d be fine, you know? Then I… tripped coming up the stairs; smashed my face open. Nearly lost all my teeth too.”

“I found her and brought her over here to get patched up.” Fahrenheit contributed, giving my back a gentle swat as she stepped down off of the raised platform and paused beside Nick. She lowered her voice as though attempting to keep me out of the conversation. Shielding the prospective innocence of a childish, unworldly moron. “She’s still a little looped, so you might want to take her back and put her straight to bed. Should be fine to crack on with things in the morning.”

Nick quirked a brow incredulously. “I see. And has everything been settled with Doctor Amari?”

“It’s fine.” Fahrenheit said evenly, tapping stray ash from her cigarette as she passed by Nick and headed for the door. Thinking of what this woman had done for me that night, I felt I couldn’t let her go without contributing perhaps one tiny, menial thing to show my support and appreciation. How helpful it would be wasn’t for me to say. But I couldn’t just let her walk on out without saying _something_ at least.

“Um… thankyou Fahrenheit.” I said, chancing the smallest smile I could manage with such a sore mouth. She turned to look back at me; her expression serious as usual. I tried not to let this put me off from what I wanted to say next. “And… look, it’s not my business. But you should tell him.”

Her eyes took on a dark, nuanced undertone as she clearly misinterpreted my meaning with this; squaring her shoulders back towards me dangerously.

“What are you talking about?”

“The mayor.” I established, cocking my head gently as I continued stroking and petting Dogmeat’s perturbed brow. The contact with him was extremely comforting. “You should tell him how you feel.”

Now she just looked confused; narrowing her eyes at me inquisitorially and mouthing ‘what?’ I needed to make this clearer, somehow.

“He’s a good man.” I stated; restabilising a fact that I’m certain she didn’t need any further clarification regarding. “And you care about him a lot, I can tell. You’d do… anything to protect him. So… if you love him that much, you should tell him.” I gave an insecure little shrug. “Just a thought.”

I hadn’t expected her to laugh at such a sensitive statement but that’s precisely what she did; puffing out her cheeks and snorting air out derisively from between her lips. She chuckled for a while before turning to glance back up at me; shaking her head in mirth.

“Ain’t that kind of love.” She said, smirking as she tugged in another draw of chemical fog from her cigarette. With an indulgent wink, she turned on her heel and passed a hand carelessly above the line of her shoulder in farewell. “You rest easy, little pawn. You’ll need your strength to face Goodneighbor again in the morning.”

She strode out the door; straight legged and with barely a swish of her hips as she went. As solid and serious in motion as she was in conversation. I wondered if I could ever be that strong. The woman was stoic; as impassive and unyielding in her manner as a mountain being battered by the raging winds about its peaks. Unswayed and unaffected all the while.

Nick came to my side, tilting his head as an expression of genuine concern stole across his features. He peered out from beneath his hat, studying my sore and sorry composition and I resisted every urge that compelled me to throw myself into his Synthesized arms and sob myself into unconsciousness.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Evelyn?” He queried, his voice so temperate that it near broke apart the Chem reinforced wall I’d thrown up in my mind. I pushed back the memory of what Marowski had done behind it and used every ounce of strength I had remaining to brace up those trembling support brackets that thinly held together the fragments of my disintegrating mind. Like so many of those bomb damaged ceilings I had come across in my travels; fallen through in places and crumbling yet in others. My entire constitution trembled in those blighted foundations like still setting Jello. Weakened by Nick’s kindness and concern for my welfare and struggling to steady itself against the emotional tide that now stirred against it.

“I’m fine, Nick.” I said, forcing a smile onto my face that I really wasn’t feeling. He must have seen that my eyes were bloodshot and most likely out of focus but I prayed that he would not query me about it. He knew I was a bit of a cry-baby at the best of times and I was counting on him not ascribing any special emphasis to _this_ occasion. “Just embarrassed and annoyed with myself. Oh.” I held up my arm and indicated the white sleeve of the robe that was peeking out. “Don’t let me forget to return this to Doctor Amari when we come see her tomorrow, okay? She lent it to me because my shirt got all bloody. She’s a… super nice lady.”

“She is. And very good at her job.” Nick added, giving a slight smile as he fetched his arm in behind me and lightly rested it against my upper shoulders. He led me slowly and carefully towards the exit. “Well, in any event; I imagine the headache you have tomorrow will be punishment enough for wandering off half-drunk into the night. I wouldn’t have known where to start looking if not for Dogmeat. Old pup nearly scratched the door down trying to get out.”

“He’s a good boy.” I said, smiling fondly at Dogmeat as he padded loyally at my side; his dark eyes still trained on me and tail tucked persistently between his legs. Like he was expecting me to either smack or reprimand him. I reached out to run my palm across his pinched back ears. “It’s okay, darling. There’s nothing else you could have done. It was my own stupid fault.”

I don’t suppose it was ever enough of a reassurance for Dogmeat; who must have, in his own doggy way, understood what had happened to me that night. Dogs are acutely more attuned to smell and body posture and for a canine who had managed to track Kellogg across the Commonwealth, it shouldn’t have surprised me that he had cottoned on.

The week following was an exercise in Hell. Though I’m certain Fahrenheit followed through on her word to speak with Marowski concerning his assault on me, it didn’t seem to have the impact I had been counting on. True, he didn’t try to put his hands on me again; though it would have been near to impossible given that I went nowhere alone from that night on. But he did make crude allusions whenever we came in contact with one another. Brushed against me when passing in the hallway a few times and rubbing up against my breast if I didn’t move fast enough. Coming out of his office to sit in the bar area when me and some of the others might have been eating at one of the tables. Forcing me to pass by him if I needed to go to the toilet; all the better to see his smarmy, amused smile curling about the rim of whatever bottle he might have been drinking from.

Just letting his presence be known. Keeping me on edge and off kilter. So that I could never forget that which I owed him. And what he had taken from me in turn.

**~**


	13. Segmentation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the swell of anger had somewhat abated and Marowski lay beneath me, dazed and bloodied and trying to breathe through swollen lips and a bloodied nose, I took a moment to catch my own breath; ensuring that the girls were keeping the bastards limbs firmly pinned to the floor. Items loosed from my bag were littered around us; one of my lipsticks liberated from its cap perched beside Marowski’s cauliflower like earlobe...

 

> _“Laws control the lesser man… Right conduct controls the greater one.”_ **_~ Mark Twain~_ **

**Evelyn Hallows**

_**Goodneighbor - Current Day...** _

I might have known that he would push the bar that tiny bit further. Especially when you consider how pissed off with me the man was. After all, I had only repaid half of my debt to him before I had swept out of Goodneighbor in the company of none other than its very own Mayor. Which put a stop to Marowski’s threats of Triggermen related retribution nicely. No way to go about sending his goons after me; not when Hancock was travelling at my side. He would have caught on immediately and this would have been more Hell than Marowski was willing to repay at this time.

He’d been furious when I’d swanned into his office that last day; hair all sliced off and hands on hips. Affecting an air of confidence and bravado that I might not have managed if it had not been for Hancock hanging out in the foyer.

Marowski had been forced to accept my reformation of the terms; a factor which pushed a man, already pervasively riddled with control issues, further towards the edge of restraint. Seeing me stand up to him would have been enough but to go one further and start _dictating_ facts to him in his own office? He just about lost it. Would have gone me, I reckon, if I hadn’t had all my friends close by.

Bastard was lucky I continued paying him; given everything the rotten cunt did to me. The pain, the fear, the anxiety… Not to mention the urinary tract infection which lingered as a constant, burning reminder of his assault; forcing me to practically chug down handfuls of antibiotics to keep the thing at bay. But I wasn’t going to risk having any sort of debt hanging over my head; not in a world such as this. I needed the freshest start I could manage. And Hancock unknowingly helped to force Marowski’s patience on the matter. I was able to pay back small amounts during the past year; dropping off what I was able whenever we visited Goodneighbor and keeping enough to outfit and supply myself. And he never touched me again, thank God.

But coming into the bathroom like _this?_ With all of us here; naked, exposed and unarmed? I didn’t trust this bastard as far as I could pick him up and throw him. And given that I was all the more aware of his past… indiscretions; I was naturally more than concerned for Cait and Piper.

I pulled myself slowly into a sitting position; brushing hair back from my eyes so the fact that I was glaring up at Marowski wouldn’t be lost on him. There was a sharp ringing in my head and the crown of my skull throbbed from where I’d struck it against the ceramics. I hadn’t yet checked to see if it was bleeding.

“You-”

“You ‘what’? _Bastard_?” Marowski said, smirking cheerfully as he brought one grubby black dress shoe up to rest atop his opposing knee. Casual as you please. “Still up with the original insults, I see.”

“Fuck you.” I hissed, putting no effort into affecting the low and dangerous tone that I was going for. Much as the man unnerved me, I was more concerned with Cait and Piper and this alone, lent a naturally protective nuance to my voice. “You don’t have power over me anymore. Now get your ass out of this room before I decide to get off mine and hurt you.”

Marowski chuckled as he took a half stogie out of his shirt pocket and placed it between his lips; clearly unconcerned by my threat. He held a match to the frayed, charred ends of the cigar; smoke puffing vacuously from the corners of his lips as he took his time getting the damn thing to light.

“Got a lot more to say for yourself than that first time we met, honey.” He said, plucking the cigar out from between his lips and sending a thick stream of smoke across the room in my direction. I saw his smile quirk from behind the foggy wall which drifted upward in the wake of his breath and knew it meant nothing good for me. “Course, you weren’t talkin’ so much as _squealin’_ then, were you?”

Oh, the bastard. The absolute _fucking_ bastard. To reference what he had done at all would be in poor taste, let alone in front of my two friends; whose respect I counted on to keep me feeling secure and stable in myself. And to implicate himself like this… I just couldn’t understand _why_ he was doing it. He had to understand that it would simply elucidate his own bad behavior; far more than it would embarrass me.

I tried to get in and say something first; to continue driving the exchange forward before either of the girls cottoned on to what Marowski was insinuating but I could see from the look on Cait’s face that it was too late. Comprehension flooded her features; her mouth falling open and eyes widening. Then her brows came axing violently down and her expression pinched into one of abject fury. I imagined I could see the steam rising up off of her skin as the cool water spattered against her heated flesh.

“Oh no…” She hissed, eyes slanting together to form vehement slits as her head jerked rapidly from side to side. “Oh no… oh no mother fucker, you’d best not be saying what I _think_ your saying-”

There was a wet squelching sound from beside me as Piper peeled herself away from the wall; arm covering her breasts as she half turned to stare at Marowski. She kept one hand covering her bottom, trying still to not grant him any liberties with her exposed body.

“Goddammit, if you hurt her-” She snarled but Marowski cut across her words with a dismissive snort; learning forward to flick a large, dirty chunk of cigar ash over into the shower bay. It disintegrated in on itself; forming a soggy, ashen puddle near our collective feet.

“Lotta big talk from a bunch of naked honey’s.” He sneered, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees; giving us a look of such contemptuous arrogance that I wanted to jam that cigar right up his ass for it. “You ain’t gonna do shit and you know it.”

Cait predictably shot to her feet at this provocation; spacing her legs apart and jamming her hands on her hips. She glared down at Marowski with such confidence in her poise, you would think that she was fully outfitted in Brotherhood regulation Power Armour; rather than a few still trickling drops of water.

“Oh, you just fucking try me, cocksucker.” She growled, standing firm in spite of the way that Marowski’s eyes roved up and down her naked body. I gathered that her slimmer physique was more his cup of tea because he was rubbing his upper lip with his finger in a perverse way that made me suspect he was very much enjoying the view. “Think this is the first time I’ve taken someone out without a stitch to my name?”

“Cait. No.” I said, climbing unsteadily to my feet and positioning myself in front of her. I hated that Marowski had another opportunity to look at me naked but it was too little too late in regards to preserving my modesty and besides, he clearly liked looking at Cait a lot more than he liked looking at me. Any chance to keep the bastard from having what he wanted and I would take it.

I glared down at Marowski, keeping one arm slightly slung behind me and pushing against Cait’s waist; so that she wouldn’t attempt to move around me. I kept my other hand pressed tightly to my breasts; the one part of me that I _knew_ he liked to look at. “I have the last of the caps owed. Just gotta sell a few things and then I was planning to be right on over.” I narrowed my eyes in disgust. “What the hell made you think you had a right to walk on in here and embarrass us like this?”

Cait scoffed from behind me. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Evie. _I_ ain’t fucking embarrassed. Mean to make _him_ good and fucking embarrassed, though.”

I sensed movement to my left and realized that Piper had now fully stepped away from the wall. The spray from the shower head was strobing off of her back and her features were wrenched in anguish; one hand tucked down now between her thighs to keep her vagina out of sight. But it seems that she was more compelled by her fear for me then she was for her own pride and _this_ of all things had spurred her forward.

“What the _fuck_ did you mean, you bastard?!” She all but yelled, her voice dripping venom as water continued rolling and splashing from the saturated curtains of her hair. “Tell me what you meant when you said that Eve was _squealing,_ you son of a bitch!”

“Piper, don’t-” I murmured, trying to ease her towards silence but she was having none of it.

“Because if you hurt her, I swear to _God_ I will make you hurt twice as bad!” She hissed, her lovely teeth clenched so tightly I feared she would run fractures through the length of them. “You _hear_ me, asshole?”

Marowski tutted to himself and laughed as he took yet another carefree puff from his cigar. “So you didn’t tell them.” He affirmed, glancing over towards me briefly before then returning his nasty, pig like eyes to Piper. His tongue dabbed the end of his cigar obscenely. “Looks like Fahrenheit’s still holding up the fort on her end. Amazing what a lick of fear does to you bitches. Prop up someone you care about and threaten to run a knife across their throats and you spread your cunts without a second thought. Too easy a game, this one.”

Cait tried to shove on past me at this and I was forced to drive all my weight back against her; near slamming the poor girls’ spine into the dividing wall. She continued thrashing and shoving and making every attempt to squeeze under my arms and throw herself at the gloating bastard on the bench.

“Oh, you just keep _TALKIN’ ARSEHOLE!!_ ” She shrieked, ducking off under my left arm but I pinned her in a crunching bear hug and pulled her back; lifting both of her feet off of the ground so that her legs windmilled wildly in the air. Bet Marowski enjoyed the view he got from _that._ “Put me the fuck _down_ , Eve, I am gonna sort this motherfucker out!!”

“You don’t need to sort anything out!” I snapped, turning about so that I could place Cait’s feet on the ground and giving her a good shake to force her to pay attention. Sometimes it helped to be such a big hulk of a woman because when I threw my weight around, it was next to impossible to ignore. “He’s leaving now.” I added, turning and shooting a very pointed look at Marowski. “Aren’t you?”

Now, you might be wondering why I prevented Cait from attacking Marowski; given that there were three of us and only one of him. Not to mention that by trespassing in the Statehouse and imposing on us in the bathroom, he’d pretty much just opened himself up to the sort of physical re-education that can only be delivered in the form of a veritable ass whooping. And don’t get me wrong; I was chomping at the bit to lay into this bastard. Hard to think what might have given me more satisfaction at the juncture; achieving the Variant Yawning Position with John or inserting the entire length of my foot up Marowski’s ass. Bit touch and go, really.

But I held off namely for three reasons. One; I had no idea whether Marowski may or may not have had a gun. He could have been looking for an opportunity to force any number of horrendous things out of us by gunpoint. And given what I knew of him from the past, it wouldn’t have surprised me.

Two; I had no idea how he had gotten into the Statehouse in the first place, so there could have been something even more terrible going on upstairs right now. Triggermen could have come pouring into the room at his discretion and if this _were_ to happen; it was safer for the three of us girls to remain close to one another. God forbid Marowski were to make a hostage out of any of us.

And three; the very fact that he had come in here was… weird. It was too direct, too openly hostile. He’d never shown much interest in wanting to cross Hancock before, so he would have had to have known what waltzing into his home and paying a visit to his girlfriend in the shower was going to do. Was he actually throwing down the gauntlet by doing this? Trying to get something started? Whatever the case, I wasn’t going to make life any easier for him and if that meant holding back now, then so be it. I wouldn’t be the cause of inciting Civil war in a town that I had grown to love and risk the lives of the people who I had come to love even more. I’d sooner let him get his paws on _me_ again than risk the lives of anyone else. Especially John or any of my dear, wonderful friends.

But it seemed that Marowski wasn’t interested in making life any the easier for me. Likely, because I had cheeked him out of the original terms of our agreement and forced him to dance to a tune that he clearly hadn’t favored. I saw it in his face, the grudge that he had nurtured those long twenty years, heightened further by his having lost control over me. Someone whom he had frightened, bullied and cowed into submission through a grotesque act of sexual violence.

He stubbed the butt of the cigar out lazily on the bench beside him; leaving a black, ashen stain that struck anger through the caverns of my chest. This was Hancock’s _home_ , goddammit. Where the hell did the bastard get off disrespecting someone else’s property like this?

“Perhaps.” He drawled, in response to me ‘not-sort-of’ suggestion that he steer his ass out of the room _now._ “But… since you took your sweet time getting over to me for the last of my payment, I’m thinkin’ I might just save you the effort and take what caps you have off of your hands.” To my surprise, he stood up then and drifted over to where my duffle was perched against the wall. How he knew it was mine I’m not sure but he went directly to it, so there was no doubt he recognized it somehow. “You don't mind, of course.”

“Actually, I _do_ fucking mind.” I said, raising my voice as Cait gave another rough little wriggle in my hands. “There’s some trading and some shopping I need to do first. You’ll get your caps _after_ I’ve sorted that shit out.”

Marowski barked out loud and turned back to face me; voice taking on a particularly sarcastic overtone as he swayed his index finger in my direction. Like a teacher putting an spirited student in their place. “Oh, I see. So um, _you_ make the rules now, do you? Something you might have considered before you went ahead and robbed me and um, you know, _killed my men_.” He rolled his eyes as he leaned down; yanking apart the already untied and loosened mouth of my bag. “Little hard to throw your weight around when you’re in the wrong, honey.”

Now this was too much. I had always completed my repayments to Marowski when I was in town and even forwarded caps along with Traders if I thought I might not have been able to get there in a reasonable time frame. It was more than he was entitled to; considering what the bastard had done to me. And here I had guaranteed that he would receive the last of what was owed to him; nothing surer. I had requested only a little patience, whilst I sorted out my other responsibilities first.

But now he saw fit to _take_ from me. Just as he had taken from me that first cold night of November, over a year ago. This was all about power. I’d wriggled out from under his thumb and reasserted my self-worth and he didn’t like it. He wanted to beat me down again; make me cry and whimper and curl up in a ball whilst he loomed above me, laughing and deriding.

But I had come a long way in that past year. I was no longer that grieving, vulnerable young woman who had pretty much pinballed herself about the Commonwealth without discrimination. I had gone through a lot of shit since that cold November night. Had faced up to a lot of monsters, knuckled down with some of the evilest motherfuckers the world had churned out and earned the love of a decent, respectable man who had seen my worth when I’d been unable to see it myself.

“ _You_ are the one who was in the wrong, you fucking maggot.” I hissed, giving Cait a very pointed push back towards the wall and holding out a finger towards her. Indicating, in no unspoken terms, that she was _not_ to move from that spot. I think she could tell from the dangerous timber of my voice that I wasn’t to be trifled with because she didn’t push the issue. “And if you touch my belongings, I’ll open you up like a tin of cram.”

Now my tone might have cowed Cait but Marowski simply scoffed; tugging open the neck of my bag wide and fetching his hand inside. “Please. You think just because you’re the mayors current sheathe that you got any power here? You know how this game works, babe.”

“Ain’t got nothing to do with being his _‘sheathe’,_ you tic worm.” I growled, crossing over the shower bay and slapping one foot down onto the raised lip of the adjoining tiles. I wanted to close as much distance as possible, so that if I needed to take action, I was less likely to slip. “Now let go of my _fucking bag_. I’m not gonna say it again.”

Marowski to my surprise, immediately fetched his hand out from the interior of my bag. I thought that he was sort of offhandedly complying with my order but my expression quickly formed into one of shock as he instead took the bag by the middle and turned it upside down. He started shaking all the contents onto the wet floor; magazines, makeup, ammunition – near everything I owned and valued, sent scattering. My bottom lip near dropped from my face as I stared, completely bewildered by his audacity.

“Ya know, it’s a shame ya cut all of your hair off.” He mused, reaching down to snatch up a small lumpy bundle that I immediately recognized for one of my cap bags. “Ya didn’t look half bad before. Now I can see why you’d have ta go for a Ghoul. Not like any decent man would want a fat ugly dyke like you.”

His words alone would have been enough to incite my temper but seeing him on the verge of slipping that cap bag into his pocket… He did so without any true indication of fear. Showing no remorse and no respect for me as a human being. Here he was just stepping all over me again and bad mouthing the man I loved to boot.

I exploded. One whole year of living with the shit that he had done to me; feeling the crushing weight of his debt hanging over my head wherever I went. Fearing one of the others would find out. That Hancock would piece it all together and then – oh god. Oh _god._ Nothing good would come from that.

I had lived in such _agony_ of fear from that day. Afraid that I would get pregnant, afraid that I would have caught some awful disease that would have kept me from being with someone else in the future. Afraid that I would be caught out; forced to keep the secret of a dreadful, _evil_ man because of the harm that might befall an otherwise good and courageous man and the town that he watched over.

The cord that had held so tightly inside of me since that day stretched out to its final enth degree and snapped. I plunged forward, fury rushing up inside of my chest and exploding through my brain like water loosed from a dam. I could feel it pouring from my mouth; forming not words but a horrible, keening roar that had been nursed long and deep in the aching hallows of my being. All that bitterness, resentment and loathing was inarticulate in its expression. But what it lacked in enunciation it made up for with unbridled wrath.

It wasn’t as though I snuck up on Marowski, so he had plenty of time to react to my approach; lashing his right arm out in an attempt to knock me off of my feet. It was a clumsy, inarticulate move and I blocked it easily; catching his beefy forearm with my right hand and sweeping it down along his side to eject out in front of him. He stumbled with the redirection, clearing up the line to his kidneys perfectly. I sidestepped, keeping my crouch firmly centred as I directed a series of hard, fast roll punches into the bastards’ lower back. I usually go for speed over strength but my mind and body were acting on a tangent far beyond my usual level of deliberation. My fists _thundered_ into him; I could feel the bucks from his body as he jolted violently from each strike. I held nothing back, sending his arm spinning back around when he tried to swat at me again and stepping into his blind side. I swept my leg out, knocking his feet out from under him and sending the big burly bastard tumbling to the floor with the resounding crash of a felled oak. You know, when someone’s in the forest to hear it, of course.

I gave him no chance to recover. If he’d been a decent human being and we were both men of honor, I might have allowed him time to find his feet so we could resume the fracas in a civilized manner. But I wasn’t a man and he was hardly what you would call decent. You couldn’t afford to be careless; _especially_ when you’re a woman. And this asshole hadn’t any right to mercy from me; not a lick of it.

I went straight for the forehead; striking it hard so that it bounced off the floor beneath him. A purposeful manoeuvre to keep him stunned and less likely to get up and retaliate. I was less discriminating with the following punches; pounding into his jaw, brow, eye, cheeks and temples. When he tried to lash out in retaliation, I jabbed him in the throat for good measure, which honestly might have killed him. I didn’t care. Nor was I applying too much technique with the punches. It wasn’t Wing Chun; I was just belting the ever loving shit out of the bastard. Piper and Cait had moved in for the assist; pinning down his arms and legs so that he wasn’t able to fight back. Ganging up on someone had never been my cup of tea and I usually frowned on this sort of pack behavior but then… who really could blame us, I wonder?

When the swell of anger had somewhat abated and Marowski lay beneath me, dazed and bloodied and trying to breathe through swollen lips and a bloodied nose, I took a moment to catch my own breath; ensuring that the girls were keeping the bastards limbs firmly pinned to the floor. Items loosed from my bag were littered around us; one of my lipsticks liberated from its cap perched beside Marowski’s cauliflower like earlobe.

“John Hancock’s… the most decent man to walk the earth. And you –” I sneered, leaning close so that my naked breasts were almost touching to the wall of his shirt. Not that his swollen eyes were in any state to take in the view. “– you’re just a fucking _parasite_.”

I spat onto his inflamed cheek and when he bucked beneath me, I slapped the other side of his face as hard as I was able. It gave me a great deal of satisfaction to see him flinch from it; remembering the way that he had battered my face before throwing me down onto his desk.

“Think you’re the worst I’ve faced this past year? You’re _nothing._ You’re fucking pathetic.” I climbed off of him, secure with the fact that Piper was pinning down his arms but moving around to stand up beside his head all the same. I planted one of my feet down on his throat and pressed to the point that he gagged. “Now… _get outta this room_. You’ll have your money before days end. But don’t you think for a goddamn second that you can bully anything out of me ever again.”

Marowski sneered up at me; spitting frothy saliva onto the floor beside his head. “You fucking dirty-”

“I don’t think you want to finish that sentence, Marowski.” Came the sound of a woman’s voice from nearby and I turned to see none other than Fahrenheit leaning casually against the dividing wall; a 10mm handgun levelled down at Marowski’s prone and bloodied body. Her usually serious face was pinched with lines that I had only seen the once before; when Bobbi-No-Nose and I had broken into Hancock’s storage room. It was an expression that no sane person would want to have directed at them.

“Keep in mind that you’re addressing the mayors’ girlfriend.” She said, taking her weight off of the wall and stepping about the scattered items from my bag. Cait and Piper released Marowski’s assorted limbs; content, I believe, that he was held inert by a force much more powerful than the pressure of their naked bodies. “Who, as of today, enjoys all the protection and amenities of myself _and_ the Neighborhood Watch. So… you might want to rethink your position in regards to all of this.” She scrunched her nose and gave an ironic little smile. “Just a thought.”

“You know the score better than anyone.” Marowski snarled, clambering to his feet and wiping at the trail of blood that trickled out from one of his nostrils. He jabbed his finger towards me and I fought back the very persistent urge to grab that bloated digit and snap it in half.  “This big _bitch_ , owes me fifteen-hundred caps. And I mean to collect it.”

“Marowski.” Fahrenheit said firmly; drawing back the safety on the pistol in a very clear sign that he needed to stop arguing _now._ “You are pushing your luck. Need I reinforce my earlier point in reminding you that this ‘little bitch’, of whom you have already inconvenienced so tremendously, is, in fact, Mayor Hancock’s current paramour? Someone he expresses to genuinely love.” She smiled and there was nothing friendly about it. “I hardly think it would suit your interests to continue pushing this little ‘agenda’ of yours.”

“Agenda nothing! This _bitch_ stole from me and-”

“Uh, uh… _uh._ ” Fahrenheit tutted, closing the last of the distance between them and pressing the barrel of the pistol directly to the red and swollen center of Marowski’s forehead. “You’ve already taken more from her than you were entitled to. From here on out, you can consider your debt to her, _annulled_.”

I felt like my heart could have truly begun to sing at this point and my eyes did in fact well with gratified tears as I swept up towels from the bench and pitched them at Piper and Cait. We all wrapped ourselves up; for whatever good it now achieved and waited in the developing silence for what might happen next. Marowski and Fahrenheit were staring one another down; neither appearing the least prepared to budge on their point. I knew that if Marowski were to try anything, Fahrenheit was more than capable of holding her own. Not that any of us would have stood by and let her take on the big brute single handed. Especially not when she had just demanded that he rescind what remained of my debt. Sure, she was acting on behalf of Hancock’s interests more than my own but I was staggered all the same by her loyalty. She may not have been my biggest fan but in shacking up with Hancock, she had symbiotically taken me under her protection as well. This was decency and professionalism that went beyond personal inflection and I could only respect and admire her for that.

“Don’t even try to put me in a stalemate here, Marowski.” Fahrenheit said eventually because Marowski still showed no signs of relenting. “If you have any concerns about things left owing to you, I would suggest that you take them up with the mayor. Though I can’t imagine he would be too pleased to find out what you did.” She pursed her lips and tutted mockingly from between them. “Tch, tch, tch. Oh _dear._ You know I don’t suppose a _wall_ of Triggermen could bear the tide against an angry lover; especially when that angry lover is John Hancock. So perhaps-” she scrunched her nose at him again. “You _might_ want to leave it here.”

Marowski seemed to weigh his options for a while and came to the grudging conclusion that, whatever he felt he was entitled to, he wasn’t extracting it then and there. He made his way slowly towards the exit but turned at the last moment; calling out over his shoulder. At me, at Fahrenheit. At all of us, more than likely.

“This isn’t over.” He hissed, jabbing his thick, bloody finger towards us before sliding it beneath the awning of his trickling nose once more. Fahrenheit stared back at him impassively; gun still trained in his direction.

“No, I dare say it isn’t.” She replied; her eyes pinned tightly in the corners. “But you might want to think of stopping while the stopping is good. And it needn’t go any further for any of us.”

“You.” He snarled, paying her words no mind as he turning now in my direction and glared out from the swollen lumps surrounding both of his eyes. “I _will_ get what’s owing to me. You mark my fucking words, cunt.”

“Oh, I’m trembling.” I sneered, which was a sort of half-truth when you consider how my body continued to quake with the surge of adrenaline that continued to pump through me. But I did my best to appear unaffected his threats; flapping my fingers condescendingly at him in the manner one might shoo a slightly irksome cat. “Go on and toddle back to the _Hotel Rexford_ now like a good little chap.”

“Doesn’t change anything, you know.” He said, grinning as he held up his index and middle finger together. He passed them lewdly under his swollen nose; as though smelling them. “Tell me honey; does your dear, darling mayor know?”

“Shut up!” I screamed, gripping the halves of the towel tightly to my chest with one hand, whilst using the other to point threateningly in his direction. He had pierced me now where it hurt the very most and the pain it evoked went far beyond my ability to contain. “You _shut_ your mouth, you fucking _PIG!!_ ”

“I still look at them, you know.” He purred, opening both fingers up to form a V shape and positioning them on either side of his mouth. His tongue came out to swipe along the length of one. “Think back to that night. Relive it. The taste of you, the _smell_ , the juicy grip of that sweet little cunt of yours-”

A thunderous ‘BANG’ echoed about the shower room as Fahrenheit’s finger squeezed tight inside of the trigger nook; knocking a round through the floor between Marowski’s feet. Splinters pitched high into the air, shards of torn wood arching away from where the bullet had punched through the board itself. Marowski stumbled back, almost falling flat on his ass in shock. It was the first time I had seen him truly rattled and it was enough to send him skittering off through the doorway. Fahrenheit strode after him, the barrel of the gun levelled still at the broad wall of his back. I can’t imagine that he had any interest in sticking around any longer, though. The damage had been done.

“Get the _fuck outta here_!!” She bellowed, the outcry of her voice followed by a violent slamming sound as she pitched the doors shut on his exit. She returned from around the dividing wall, pacing the entire length of the room whilst raking her fingers through the messy wave of her hair; swearing like a trooper the whole while. It was the most dishevelled I had ever seen her. She even punched her arm into the wall and this _definitely_ seemed more of a hot-headed Hancock thing to do. Woman was _fucking_ steamed. 

“Goddamn piece of _shit_!” She yelled, striding around the side of the dividing wall before circling back on the far right. She did this twice; her eyes panning about and checking here, there and everywhere. I heard her bang open each of the toilet stalls during one of her rotations. “How the _hell_ did he get in here?!”

It was a question I much valued the answering of myself and one I would have joined her in addressing it if not for the fact that I was a little preoccupied. Namely, with tending to Piper; who had started to sob the second Marowski had been driven from the room and was currently sinking slowly onto the bench like a melting ice-cream cone left forgotten in the sun. I went to her side, running my hand gently over the crown of her head and quietly shushing.

“Blue, did you… did you actually… _sleep_ with him?” She murmured from somewhere behind her hands; her green eyes peering at me in a clear appeal to allay her fears on the matter. But of course, I couldn’t.

“Way to go and slap a silk bow on a pig there, Piper.” I grumbled, running my fingers back through my own hair as I continued to rub the damp wall of her back. I was trembling and slurring my words when I tried to speak clearly; adrenaline still rocking my body with determined spasms. “Goddammit… thanks Fahrenheit. Gotta admit… that was pretty badass.”

“Yeah, well you weren’t so bad yourself.” Fahrenheit conceded, giving me the smallest throwaway smile as she marched back across the room; swinging her eyes up now towards the ceiling. “Grown yourself a good pair in the year since all this shit went down.”

“Yeah, they dangle nice.” I said, smirking as I used my free hand to emulate a pair of testicles that might otherwise have been hanging from beneath the towel. “Probably got a good look at ‘em swingin’ around while I was laying into Marowski.”

Fahrenheit chuckled a bit; her eyes remaining trained on the ceiling as she circled about from one position in the room to the next. As though she thought the guy might have sawn a hole through the upper floor and dropped inside. “We’ll make a Goodneighbor dame of you, yet.”

I glanced over at Cait, who had finished drying herself and was currently glaring off into the middle distance as she fussed about in her bag; clearly looking for something clean to wear. She glanced up at me with an expression twain desperation and unparalleled fury.

“Seriously… what the hell was all that shit about?!” She exclaimed, pupils near swimming in the whites of her eyes as she tugged on a typically tiny set of lace panties. “Evie, did he-”

I sliced my hand through the air at her; a clearly recognizable sign of ceasing the conversation there and then. It was bad enough that Piper couldn’t seem to stop crying and I could barely begin to fathom just _how_ I was going to try and work my way out of this. All the more difficult if my friends continued to push the point of it.

“Don’t worry yourself with it, Cait. It’s ancient history.”

Cait’s fist slammed the side of the bench so hard that it caused both Piper and I to jerk in fright. She glared down at me; her fierce eyes breathing impatience and her breasts still shuddering slightly from the brash movement of her body.

“I don’t give two shits if it’s ancient history or _not_!” She yelled, jabbing a finger back towards where Marowski had only just exited. “One year ago _ain’t_ ancient history! And if that bastard did somethin’ to you, I sure as shit wanna know!!”

“What _I_ sure as shit wanna know is how that grimy prick managed to get into the Statehouse!” I snapped, refusing to address Cait’s anxieties at just that moment, namely because there were more pressing issues with which to concern ourselves with. Specifically, the compromising of the state of security in the mayors’ house. “I can’t imagine any of the boys would have let him just waltz down here, right?”

Apparently Fahrenheit was on the same page as me because she had subjected the near entirety of the room to a thorough appraisal whilst the rest of us had been talking. Satisfied, it seemed, that there was no secret means to have entered the bathroom other than the main doorway, she paused for long enough to light up a cigarette.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” She mused, after taking a few calming puffs. “Gonna have to question all them useless cunts, find out what the hell is going on with that.” She glanced off to the side, her expression reflective. “Not to mention just… up and waltzing in like that…”

I gave a small nod of my head, my hand still making circles to the back of Piper’s damp towel. “Doesn’t make sense, does it? I mean, messing around with folks in the background is more his speed. Something he can get away with without rustling too many feathers. But strutting straight into the mayors _home_ and rounding up on his guests and girlfriend in the _shower?_ That’s a bold fucking move, am I right?”

Fahrenheit’s chin bobbed in response. “Far too ballsy for my liking. Up until now, Marowski has felt safe to sort of get on with his little… arrangements without putting a toe across the line. Regardless of money, he’s always managed to keep things under control.”

“Well, he’s _got_ money, hasn’t he?” I queried, leaving Piper long enough to start gathering up my items from the floor. I started replacing them in my bag one at a time; kneeling down to scoop scattered magnum ammunition out from under the bench. “Why take such a big risk as this for a measly fifteen hundred caps? That’s like… a drop in the ocean for a guy like him. So this wasn’t about him being short changed.”

“The caps just represent something else.” Fahrenheit stated, bobbing the cigarette pointedly between her index and middle finger. Her eyes had strayed to the floor whilst her mind continued to work through any number of potential possibilities. “His feelings of entitlement, more than likely.”

“Could it be that he’s just getting _that_ arrogant?” I asked, placing my scattered makeup items back into my little amenities satchel and popping it away. I paused for a moment and pressed a hand to the back of my head as pain sliced through me from the injury there. It reminded me that I needed to go and pick up my brush and razor from where I’d dropped them during my fall. “Because he’s gotten away with it for so long? Maybe he’s just testing the boundaries. Seeing what else he’s able to get away with.”

“I’m not sure.” Fahrenheit said thoughtfully, pressing the filter of the cigarette back between her lips and continuing to stare off down some path that was invisible to the rest of us. “It may be a bigger move than we might anticipate.” She looked to me suddenly and I thought for the very first time that I saw something in her eyes akin to fear. “It could be that he has us in ‘Check’ and we don’t even know it.”

I washed off the residual foam from the bristles of the shaving brush and scooped up the razor from where I had dropped it; using the base of my towel to dry both the utensils off. It gave me something to focus on, rather than the flicker of uncertainty that fluttered resolutely to life within the walls of my chest.

“You think… he’s trying to provoke something with this?”

Fahrenheit gave a light shrug of her right shoulder; one that suggested she didn’t quite buy into her own attempt to be flippant about the possibility. “ _That_ or you’re right and he truly is so stupid and arrogant that he believes he can get away with such a bold move without repercussions.” She paced again, tapping the pad of her finger to the stem of the cigarette pensively. “But he’s not entirely stupid, Marowski. I can’t imagine this would be his game. There was a point to his coming here today. And it wasn’t to extract the remainder of his money from you; _that_ I can almost be certain of.”

Piper had finally recovered enough to make an attempt at drying herself but was distracted from the task at this point of the conversation. Her blood shot eyes darted back and forth between Fahrenheit and I; seeking some meaning that was understandably lost on her.

“God…” She murmured, wiping her chest with the towel before smoothing the palm of her hand across her forehead. “I’m losing track of just what the hell you guys are talking about but all I really care about is what the _hell_ this guy wants with Blue in the first place?”

I sighed as I pulled my towel from around myself and started to dry the small of my back with it. “I _robbed_ him, Piper. Back before you and I joined up together I got wound up in some stupid scheme to steal Chems and money with Paul Pembroke and Henry Cooke.” I quirked my brows ironically as I raised one leg at a time to perch on the bench and dry along the length of them. Least _they_ would be nice and smooth for tonight; even if my bathing suit region was a total write off. “Seems like I’m the only one Marowski was able to get his hands on. And he… took it pretty personal.”

“ _How_ personal?” Cait asked suspiciously and I shot her another warning look.

“Never you mind. The more prudent point is, what in the damn hell is our next move?”

Piper jerked her hands impatiently into the air, giving _me_ a look now which suggested that I was devoid a few good working brain cells.

“Well, I think it’s pretty clear what you need to be doing.” She said, tossing her towel down and taking a hair brush from inside of her bag. She started viciously raking the bristles through the tangles of her still wet hair. “ _You_ need to tell Hancock what that goddamned pervert just did. _That_ and whatever the hell else he did to you way back when!”

I sighed as I finished towelling at my own hair and wiped down my arms and shoulders. “It’s not quite that straight forward, Piper.”

“Actually,” said Fahrenheit from across the room and I looked up at her in surprise as she continued to stare off into somewhere else. “I think that it is.”

I continued to stare for a while; waiting on her to further elaborate but she added nothing. She flicked some ash idly from her cigarette and eventually glanced up at me; supposing, most likely, that I would not respond well, having agreed to keep quiet all this time. And she was quite right about that.

“You’re kidding?” I snapped; sort of laughing and scoffing my disbelief at the same time. “After… everything you told me a year ago? Suddenly, it’s now as straight forward as just… telling the mayor?” I laughed heartily, pressing my hands together and starting up at the ceiling. There was no humor in my voice however; nor present anywhere else in my body. I was in fact, more genuinely angry than I had been in a very long time. “Oh, _that_ would be fucking right, wouldn’t it? Shelve the truth for an entire goddamn year; keep Hancock from finding out and all for what? So I can tell him _now?_ Now that I’ve been able to recover and move _on_ with it? Good load of fucking use that is to me _now!!_ ”

“This is not just about _you_ , Evelyn. And it _wasn’t_ as straight forward then, that much is true.” Fahrenheit said pointedly and though her expression remained mostly unchanged, there was a little something in her eyes which suggested that she did feel truly sorry for everything that had happened. And I believed it. “And it isn’t entirely straight forward _now_ but I think we need to factor in the severity of Marowski’s actions here. This isn’t something that he’s just gone and done in the privacy of his motel.” She slowly and carefully deliberated the point with gestures of her cigarette laden hand; her gaze interminably anchored within my own. “He actually had the balls to walk into the Statehouse, the Mayors _home_ of all places and impose upon his guests and _girlfriend._ This is a direct slight and insult to the Mayor himself. And this isn’t something we can just ignore. Like you said before, it’s as though he means to… incite something.”

The implications of this statement and what might potentially have been brought about if it were to be true, was enough to shake me out of my own indignation. My eyes widened, my thoughts flying out in all directions as I considered the possibility of dozens- _hundreds_ of armed Triggermen, scaling the walls of Goodneighbor. Flocking across its surrounding rooftops, bursting out of its sewer systems, bringing down its gate so that the town lay exposed to the ever ceaseless appetite of the Wasteland beyond.

Goodneighbor beaten down and overthrown, becoming once more a playground of the devoid, remorseless tyrants both Hancock and Fahrenheit spoke about with such palpable fear. The streets safe only for those predators who would swoop in like undiscriminating hawks and pick upon whoever might so happen to wander across their path. Some corpulent monster perched fat and uncaring in the Statehouse; bathing in this shower. Sleeping in _our_ bed.

The Neighborhood Watch; that spattering of eccentric, dorky, girl crazy buffoons that I was so fond of. Killed. Punched down by a volley of bullets, stabbed until they lay inert and exsanguinated on the ground. Adrian, Pattie, Meyer, Jack, Ryan… All of them. Snuffed out.

Fahrenheit killed, or worse still; used for sport by the conquering masses. Returned to that very hell she had worked so very hard to escape from all those years ago. Though she was likely to take her own life before she would have permitted this to happen. I knew enough of the woman’s character now to know that if worse came to worse, she would die with the rest of her kin. She would refuse to be kept as some victors’ trophy. To be used, abused and degraded.

And Hancock… Overthrown. Tortured, most likely. Executed. The man I loved so very much. And what of me? The woman that _he_ had invited into his life. Because surely, I could be used for such a purpose. To make him suffer all the more. To be used in some manner to further enunciate his anguish in defeat.

It was easier now than ever before; to understand and appreciate Fahrenheit’s fear. Now that I too shared her love of this town. And the man who safeguarded it.

“Well _that’s_ a terrifying thought.” I mused, hissing air out from between my teeth as Fahrenheit nodded in validation from the corner of my vision. “Jesus…”

“Tell me about it.” She mused, dragging once more on her cigarette before tapping ash into the remaining dribbles of water in the shower bay. “So tell me; what were your plans following this?”

“I was going to put on a load of washing and then head over to Meaghan’s to fetch myself a new bra and some clothes for tonight.” I said, folding up my towel and dropping it onto the bench before sliding my knickers back on. I muttered off to the side as I foisted the limp elastic up as high as it could sit on my hips, “If there even _is_ a tonight after this…”

“Hey, don’t sound so gloomy.” Cait chirruped, tapping me lightly in the bicep with her fist. “I’m sure clipping Marowski up under the ear won’t take Hancock all night long.”

I gave a slight roll of the eyes as I tugged my shorts, singlet top and flannel shirt back on. God, for the _love_ of some fresh, clean clothing. “If I _thought_ that was all he was going to get… Not to mention I’m not entirely sure how Hancock’s going to deal with this.” I groaned to myself, smoothing down all the creases in my clothing before marching over to the laundry room. I eased open the tin lid of one of the machines and started to separate clothing from the garment bag that I had placed nearby earlier. I decided to put through a load of underpants first and started feeding these into the guts of the machine. “All I know is that it’s going to be fucking awful…”

Fahrenheit gave a humorless chuckle from the other room. “Don’t worry, I’m sure _I’ll_ be the one to cop the worst of it. And I don’t have any redeemable factors, like a cute smile and big tits to take the edge off.”

I flashed a smirk over my shoulder at her. “Yeah… I do have to admit, they can be handy at times.” I fished out the small plastic cup that was half interred in the nearby box and sprinkled a good helping of the supplied powder across the undergarments like a tender spattering of snow. I dropped the lid down and spun the dial around to instigate a ‘Delicates’ cycle before placing the hodgepodge of other assorted garments into the adjacent machine. I repeated the process with another capful of powder before placing aside the woollen items that would require a hand wash and my bloodied bra, which would also need some more intense treatment.

It was good to focus on tasks such as this; as the routine helped put me back in a stable and calm state from where I had been so agitated before. Worse lay ahead of course but there wasn’t much that could be done for this. As Fahrenheit had said, if Marowski _was_ planning something, the Mayor had a right to know. Especially if it put the entirety of the town in direct danger. Not to mention the blatant disrespect he had demonstrated by trespassing in Hancock’s home in the first place. And imposing on his guests.

No, this went far beyond what had happened with me. Something that… I’m not entirely certain I could have kept from Hancock for much longer anyway. We were on the cusp of becoming lovers, after all. Everything comes out in the wash eventually.

I took a deep breath, steadied my still quavering nerves as much as possible and turned back to the others with the brightest smile on my face that I could possibly muster.

“Right. Well. Guess I’ll be making my way over to Meaghan’s then.”

Piper, half dressed in a pair of red shorts, threw on a white blouse which she managed to misalign the buttons on in her haste to get it done up in time.

“We’re coming with you.” She said, straightening up the halves of the blouse and feeding the buttons back through the correct holes this time. She glanced towards Cait pointedly. “Well, _I_ am at least. Whatever’s going on, you’re going to need some… you know, sisterly support.”

Cait nodded her head as she wriggled her way into a denim mini and a singlet top, which was an outfit she only ever wore when visiting Goodneighbor, I noticed. It had certainly gotten the attention of Pattie in less than naught of a second. Though I doubt those two little flirts could have avoided meeting one another any more than a Jet canister could avoid meeting Hancock’s lips.

“Too right.” Cait said, raking her fingers back through her hair as she admired her reflection in one of the two loomed mirrors in the room. She hadn’t bothered with putting on a bra, I noticed, so she was clearly on the pull. Must have been keen to cuddle up to someone tonight and wasn’t leaving anything up to chance. “Besides, I need to find myself some pretty duds for this big shin-dig tomorrow night. Two birds with one stone and all that.”

“Thanks girls.” I chuckled, using the neighboring mirror to quickly comb my hair and sponge off what few remaining traces of makeup still clung to my face. I didn’t bother with reapplying any. What was the point, when I was only going to have to do it all again before the date? The good folks of Goodneighbor would just have to witness me as the good Lord had made me.

Fahrenheit sighed as she took another puff from her smoke. “Right. Well, I’ll go rustle up the boss and meet you at Meg’s. Think this is the sort of thing he needs to hear from _your_ mouth, rather than mine. Sorry if that sounds like I’m turtling up, but…”

I turned from the mirror, waving a hand lightly in her direction. “You’re not turtling up. You’re right. It _should_ come from my mouth.” I groaned, tilting my head back as the image of Hancock’s reaction flooded my mind with such clarity it sent my heart to aching. “God, he is going to hit the fucking _roof_ …”

Fahrenheit could obviously see that I was anxious and she did something then that I found insurmountably kind. She trotted to my side and offered me a cigarette.

“You know we’re not supposed to smoking in the Statehouse anymore, right?” I said, giving her a look as I helped myself to one all the same. Fahrenheit smiled as she slid the box away and took out a steel lighter from her vest pocket. It had a detailed carving of a ball of flame on the side, I noticed, so I assumed it must have been a keepsake of some sort.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” She said, sparking the dial on the side of the lighter as I leaned in towards it. The flame arced higher than what I was accustomed and was blue in color, rather than red. I took a few puffs of the cigarette, feeling the soothing smoke ease out the harsh waves of tension in my chest. I passed the cigarette over towards Piper.

“Here ya go, darl. You’re looking more stressed than me.”

Piper groaned as she accepted the cigarette. “Just _had_ it with all the fucking perverts of this world. Is it too much to ask that we go _one day_ without _someone_ trying to touch us up, fuck us or stare at us naked?” She took a few pulls on the cigarette and the lines in her face started to diminish ever so slightly. Cait chuckled as she meandered over; no doubt drawn in by the alluring scent of the burning tobacco.

“Welcome to the Commonwealth, love. Just thank your lucky stars you never had to spend longer than an hour in the Combat Zone. Barely got myself a free moment without some greasy buggers hand sliding over me arse.” She helped herself to what remained of the cigarette and finished it off with a few deep, labored drags. The three of us all looked and felt, I imagine, the better for it. 

“Right.” I said, clapping my hands in a jovial over the top way that most fathers use to foster excitement in their clearly underwhelmed children. “Well, now that we are all happily tarred up – I guess we should get going.”

Fahrenheit feathered out the ash from her own cigarette and placed both it, and the butt remaining from our shared one, back into the pack. “I’m going to have a chat to some of the boys upstairs before I head off to find Hancock. Mind you go straight to Meaghan’s. Exit from the Statehouse closest to the alley.” And then, because I was staring at in confusion, “Meaghan’s set up shop in Bobbi-No Nose’s old place. You’ll see for yourself when you get there.”

“Cool. Catch you there I guess.”

Fahrenheit nodded and headed out through the double doors, casting glances about her as she went. Cait, Piper and myself took a few moments to sort out our belongings before pulling our bags back on over our shoulders and following her out. I was still feeling that slightest bit anxious, so once we had clambered our way back to ground level, I asked the other two to wait whilst I dropped my bag and tore up to the second landing. I passed by Fahrenheit, who looked to be having a very stern conversation with both Rob and a clearly gobsmacked Jack and steered myself into Hancock’s bedroom.

My wine glass was right where I had left it; still about half full from earlier, though the liquid warm and unpalatable. I carried it over to the fridge; filling it to near brimming point with what remained of the bottle Hancock had been serving me before. I took a big heady gulp; pleased to find that the coolness of the refrigerated liquid had brought down the temperature of the wine that had been left to sit in the room. It was delicious and dry and _– oh – mama_. If I was going to have to sit down with poor John and tell him all about Marowski’s assault, I needed a drink to damn well get me through it.

In fact, a drink sounded good where everyone was concerned and I helped myself to a couple of nice, cold beers for Cait and Piper. I knew Hancock wouldn’t mind (guy was far too generous for his own good most of the time anyway) and the girls preferred beer to wine; especially on a hot day. I was going to take one out to Fahrenheit but I reasoned that she probably had her own stash in the sitting area. Plus, she might not have thought it very professional; given that she seemed to be on shift. Fahrenheit enjoyed her Chems, I knew but I wasn’t about to assume where her own boundaries lay in regards to other vices.

I trotted back down the stairs in the wake of Fahrenheit herself, who seemed to have finished rounding up on the boys. Jack and Rob were staring at me wide eyed as I passed, calling out to ask if I was okay and the like. I hoped that Fahrenheit had only told them about the shower incident because I really didn’t want the whole world to know what Marowski had done a year ago. Not before I’d had a chance to speak about it with John, anyway.

I gave the boys a smile and assured them that I was good and they seemed to relax a bit after this. Jack’s face was very tight however and I think he was just barely caging in his anger. They’d both pinned their guns back tight to the chests I noticed and on the ground floor, Reggie, who had been on door duty, was hotfooting it down the stairs into the basement area. I knew _he_ would have been the one feeling most shit about what had happened. He and another fellow by the name of… Frank, I think, had been assigned here to street level. Marowski must have somehow managed to get past them at some point and they would have been embarrassed and no doubt flabbergasted by the gaff.

I handed out the beers to Cait and Piper and slung my duffle back onto my back as Fahrenheit steered us out the doorway into the entryway alley. I had a random passing thought that it felt a little like a cruise ship; just walking around like this with a drink in hand. Not the sort of thing you could have gotten away with in my time. Not down the street, anyway.

I took another sip from my wine and offered it to Fahrenheit; just in case she was feeling a bit dry. She waved it away.

“No joy?” I asked, referring to her conversation with the boys inside.

Fahrenheit sighed, fluffing her fingers irritably back through her hair. “They all swear black and blue that they didn’t let Marowski in. Now they’re all steamed up and taking pot shots at one another. Jesus Christ.” She lit up another cigarette as we stepped outside into the orange glow of the retiring afternoon. The air smelt fantastic; of bustling feet, lingering heat and the subtle radiance of warm stone cooling as the suns light left the buildings walls. “Guessing the bastard might have gone and snuck in when the lot of you arrived. That’s the only time the boys can recall diverging from their posts. Stupid pussy crazed idiots…”

“Can’t really blame ‘em for getting excited, can ya?” Cait stated, flashing a cheeky wink over her shoulder at Fahrenheit. “Given what they’ve normally got to work with.”

Fahrenheit might have shot something back but was distracted from it by the arrival of Adrian; who nearly bowled the lot of us over as he shot around the corner from Kill or Be Killed. He had a package tucked firmly under his arm; wrapped in newspaper which was the tried and true transportation method offered by none other than Daisy’s Discounts.

“Whoops!” Adrian exclaimed, hopping back on one foot before managing to regain his balance at the last moment. He gave a bashful laugh as he placed his fingertips to the foremost peak of his fedora. “Sorry about that ladies! Nearly mowed you all down!” He turned his beaming smile now to focus on me and I felt I might have melted right there in my little yellow slip on’s. “Evie darlin’, how the hell you been, girl?”

Most of you have no doubt picked up by this stage that I am extremely fond of Adrian Buchalter. For no small wonder; the man is _absolutely_ gorgeous; in every sense of the word. Tall, toned and with the dearest disposition you are ever likely to find in a Commonwealth male. Not to mention that he manages to pull off his Ghoulification in a way that is rivalled only by John Hancock himself.

Adrian has a very beautifully shaped face, you see. Which, like John, appears to be a redeeming feature for those individuals who have become Ghouls. It stands to reason that if you were attractive as a Smoothskin, that you are more likely to be a Not-so-hideous Ghoul. And Adrian had a thicker jaw than John; more defined and boxier in shape. Not to mention that the skin on his face has not been so badly affected as other Ghouls I’ve met. Why, I can’t say but he definitely lacks the distinctive scarring around the mouth that even John is afflicted with. And Adrian is actually older from what I’ve heard, so it couldn’t have been an age related deterioration.

He still possessed a bit more of his nose cartilage than others of his kind and his lips remained lovely and plump; as opposed to caving in upon themselves. I’m not certain if his African-American ancestry might have been a contributing factor in the preservation of his appearance but it certainly didn’t hurt none. He’d clearly been a fucking beautiful looking man before Ghoulification set in and he was still lovely to look at now.

Not to mention the _size_ of him. Good Lord, the man’s built like a Super Mutant and at close to seven feet tall, he’s not far off from being able to look one in the eye. And something about the way that his shirt and braces stretched across that big, muscular chest always managed to get me hot and bothered. Much to Hancock’s amusement. But then, I’d always had a thing for big, sturdy men in the past. John was the anomaly with this, until recently, firmly established pattern of attraction.

But not only is Adrian lovely in appearance but in personality as well. He’s a dear old thing; gentlemanly and sweet when it comes to women and very moral aside. He’s the type who doesn’t talk a great deal and speaks even _less_ about himself but when you do get him going, he has a lot of interesting things to say. The shame of it is that Adrian doesn’t seem to believe that he is particularly interesting in any way. Despite being well read, self-educated and insightful. Hancock has told me that he suffers from poor self-esteem and even after so many years, still doubts his overall capacity and worth as a human being. Or… Ghoul, whatever.

Which is why I believe my honest appraisal is sometimes a helpful thing and I didn’t bother with holding back on this occasion either.

“Goddamn it Adrian, why are you so sexy?” I mused, giving the man a scolding look as though he had purposefully just imposed on me with his attractiveness. He was clearly embarrassed by the statement but equally flattered I should think, because he dashed his hand at me chidingly.

“Oh, go on with ya now.” He said, chuckling in his deep baritone as he picked me up in a massive bear hug; lifting my feet right off the ground. This was always such a treat for me; as he was one of the few guys that could manage to make me feel light. “Awww… been hangin’ to catch up with you again. But the boss has been busy keepin’ ya all to himself, I hear.”

I heard Cait snort as Adrian set me back down to earth, being careful not to upend my wine all over the place in the process. “Ha! Has he ever! Surprise she didn’t come back with hickey’s on every last inch of her!”

Adrian laughed softly, hesitating for just one bare moment before leaning around me and offering Piper a small, bashful wave. Which only looked the sweeter for the fact that it came from a hand that could have easily snapped a melon in half.

“Hey there, Piper.” He said and I watched with interest as she returned the smile and offered up an awkward little twinkle of her fingers. “We still on for tonight? Got a few of the others rocking up as well, now they’ve gone and caught wind of it.” He sighed dramatically to himself, placing his free hand firmly against the arch of his broad hips. “I swear, sure as I breathe, word gets out that you’re putting on a BBQ and suddenly every bastard from within a ten mile radius wants an invite.”

“Well, everyone loves a sausage sizzle.” I said, smirking at the adorable little interaction the pair had going on. Geez and I thought John and I could win the prize for blundering along on the path to romance. “I swear, all I need is to just smell onions burning and I’m charging on in like a bull with a sore head.”

“Yes well, we all know how much you like your food, Blue.” Piper said, smirking at my no doubt offended expression as she tilted her head back towards Adrian. Her voice took on a gentle, unassuming tone that I couldn’t even _begin_ to associate to the woman it seemed to be coming from.  “Still good. Do you need me to bring anything?”

Adrian’s smile quirked up all the wider, though he pretty much directed it towards the ground. Oh my god, these two were just too cute.

“Just your pretty self. I’m about to head on over to the butcher’s and grab the meat for the barbie. Just sorted myself out with a couple of cooking supplies from Daisy’s.”

I nearly splurted out the gulp of wine I was just in the midst of swallowing. “What? There’s a _butcher’s_ here now?”

Adrian nodded casually, flapping a hand to indicate somewhere off to the distant left I suppose. “Oh yeah. Run outta the same buildin’ as our new baker. Brother and sister duo head it up. Don’t know if you ever met ‘em; Jeanne and Ollie Druthers?”

I nodded in recognition of the name. “Met Ollie. He used to just bring the meat straight down to the kitchen in the Third Rail and chop it all up there, didn’t he?”

“Surely did. But now with the diner goin’ in and all, he needs more space and more staff to keep a consistent supply of meat and-”

I almost lost my wine again. “A fucking _diner?!_ ”

Adrian twisted his lip and glanced off to the side non-committedly.  “Well, it’s gonna be more a restaurant I think but the boss didn’t wanna call it that. Said it sounded too ‘snooty’.” He used his fingers to make little quotation marks in the air; just so I was aware that this was a direct Hancock quote. “But I reckon when the renovations are done, it’s gonna look right proper fancy.”

“Speaking of the boss, do you know where I might find him hovering around?” Fahrenheit asked, looking bored with the context of the current conversation. Adrian nodded and fluttered his hand back towards the far left; where he had previously indicated that the aforementioned butchers were located.

“Last I saw he was down East a ways. Helpin’ string up some of the lights above the street.”

That would be right. Still recovering from a debilitating leg and hip injury and the silly nong couldn’t resist the opportunity to climb something tall. Man loved to be high in every sense of the word.

Adrian must have recognized something in Fahrenheit’s tone because he frowned at her now; hoisting up the items on his hip so they sat more snuggly into the curve of his waist.

“Why ya lookin’ for the boss? Somethin’ wrong?”

Clearly it was too much to expect that Piper keep her practiced yap shut for much longer because she burst on out with it now.

“Oh, not much. Marowski only just went and walked in on us in the fucking shower is all.”

The reaction was just as to be expected. Adrian, a consummate gentlemen who probably wouldn’t go so far as to _share_ a shower with a consensual lover (for fear of depriving her of water), near lost his grip on the package in his hand and had to swoop down to get a hold of it again. His black button eyes widened to the point that the whites showed and his mouth dropped open to reveal twin rows of exquisitely snowy and enviably straight teeth. He looked positively, genuinely, confuddled.

“He… wait, _what?!_ ”

Cait smirking, clearly enjoying Adrian’s stunned reaction and wanting to get more out of it, lowered her voice to a hushed, breathy susurration. “It was just _terrible._ I mean, there the three of us were, just… minding our own, innocent, maidenly business. All slippery and naked and… lathering ourselves in soap and next thing you know-”

Piper reached across to slap at Cait’s hands; which were busy emulating some lurid, over the top movements that I’m sure most men would ascribe to women suddsing themselves up.

“Cait, could you _not_ describe it like that, please?” She requested and not a minute too soon because Adrian was looking particularly distracted by the imagery that had no doubt just lodged itself into the forefront of his brain. Hey, just because he was a gentleman didn’t mean he wasn’t human. Though he managed to bring himself back to reality with a shake of his noggin and refocus on the more prudent matter at hand.

“And _what?_ Marowski just… walks in on you all?”

I gave a tired nod as I sipped from my wine again. “Yep, ya betcha. Got such a start I fell and hit my head.”

“Jesus, I forgot to check on that…” Piper murmured, leaning back so she could appraise the crown of my head. She lightly fingered the sore lump that had formed there. “Not bleeding but it’s sticking out like dogs nuts. You okay?”

“I’ll be fine. See if Meaghan might have a Stimpak she’s prepared to loan out.”

Adrian, still looking distracted, opened a bag that he hung suspended by his hip. He took out a Stimpak and passed it over to me.

“I got one here, Evie. Just, take it and get it into ya.” He said, turning to Fahrenheit as I passed the syringe to Piper; not able to inject the damn thing myself. “Did you see all of this?”

“Oh yeah, BC. I was just hanging out in the corner watching for amusements sake.” Fahrenheit grumbled, shooting Adrian a rather impertinent look. The big Ghoul’s brows shot down low over his eyes; perfectly demonstrating his lack of appreciation with the comment.

“Well, you don’t have to be sarcastic.”

Fahrenheit sighed, gesturing back up at the Statehouse with her cigarette. “I was heading in to gather up some forms and went downstairs to use the toilet when I heard the commotion.” The cigarette was now lightly waved in my direction. “This one took care of herself pretty well but the big bastard had a mind to throw his weight around.”

I could see from one look at his face that Adrian’s anger was visibly escalating. His big fist was clenched at his side and he turned about in restless little half-circles; clearly at odds with just what the hell was going on and why it had even occurred in the first instance. To him, _any_ woman being in that situation would have been bad enough but he was fond of me and clearly more than a little fond of Piper. To him, the insult was just as personal as it would no doubt have been with Hancock.

“Wh-why would he fucking do that?!” Adrian exclaimed, lashing out his balled fist and striking the alley wall in such a way that it made us all wince in one combined shudder. I thought of the skin that would have been seared off of his knuckles by such a thing but Adrian paid it no mind. “Who the _hell_ does he think he is, walkin’ into a bloody bathroom when there are _women_ in there?!”

I was distracted enough by his anger to not pay mind to the Stimpak as Piper injected it into the back of my head. Good thing too because head and facial injections were just hell. Once the initial sting had passed, I thought to try to assuage Adrian. If only to prevent him from injuring himself further in his anger.

“He’s got some unfinished business with _me,_ Adrian. And now he’s starting to make it everyone else’s problem.” I glanced back at Cait and Piper; who was recapping the syringe and passing it back to Adrian. “I’m sorry, girls. It’s ‘cause of _my_ stupid mistake he’s pulling all this shit.”

“Whatever you might have done, it doesn’t give him the right to behave this way, Blue.” Piper assured, reaching out to rub her free hand down my arm. From the corner of my eye, I saw Adrian tuck the newspaper wrapped package tighter under his arm and when I turned back towards him, witnessed the tight, uncompromising column his beautiful lips formed as they pressed together.

“Right. Excuse me, ladies.” He said and went to squeeze on past us when Fahrenheit went in for the intercept; grabbing one hand to the curve of his massive bicep. This shouldn’t have ordinarily been enough to stop a behemoth like Adrian but he once again demonstrated his civility by easing up.

“Where in the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Where do you think?” Adrian rumbled, turning and staring at Fahrenheit with the most serious expression I had ever seen on his face. “I’m gonna go and tear that son of a bitch a new asshole.”

“Like hell you are. I’m going out now to fetch the boss, _he’ll_ decide how to deal with it.”

“Good. Tell him to meet me there.” He yanked his arm firmly from Fahrenheit’s grasp and eased between the three of us girls with such decorum you might never suspect he was as angry as he plainly was. His hand tenderly brushed the curve of Piper’s shoulder as he went; a subtlety of compassion I found the more touching for how natural it was. She turned towards him, her fingers reaching up to gently press to his own and the reciprocation stalled Adrian long enough for Fahrenheit to get in front of him.

“NO.” She stated, positioning herself directly in the center of the alleyway. Though a shorter and smaller woman than even myself, she had a presence that was difficult to stand up to. “This is _exactly_ what I was concerned with; all you love sick boys getting a head of steam up and doing something rash. You _need_ to hold off and let Hancock decide how to deal with it.”

Adrian slapped the wall just off to the side of Fahrenheit’s head and I applauded her ability to not flinch away from it. “Goddamn it Mel, I’m not gonna just stand around with my thumb up my ass while this bastard makes for the hills. He ain’t got no right to do what he did; walkin’ inta the bosses’ home and imposin’ on the lady folk!”

“Well, thanks darl but the ‘lady folk’ did a pretty decent job of holdin’ their own.” I added a little self-consciously, tucking wet hair behind my ear and sipping my wine more casually than I felt the situation actually warranted. I’d had a bit of time in the past year to get use to these forthright exchanges between Goodneighbor folks and it wasn’t like Hancock and his hair thin temper hadn’t tested me up until now.

Fahrenheit looked surprisingly grateful for my meagre intervention and all about thrust the top of her head under Adrian’s chin to force him to back up. “That’s right. And we need to be very careful with how we approach this, BC.” Her tone lowered slightly, a testament perhaps to her history and genuine friendship with the man that she was addressing and she reached out to slap her palm to the thick column of his wrist. “Trust me, okay? Go and do whatever you need to do and just… be aware. Let the rest of the boys know to keep an eye out for Marowski or Stan. Fuck it. Tell ‘em to be cautious around any of the Triggermen who are in town too. Can’t hurt to be too careful with this one.” She held up one of her long, lean fingers as a means to hold his attention before it drifted away again. “ _By word of mouth._ Don’t use the shortwave. No idea who might hear it. Or intercept it, for that matter.”

Adrian puffed air out from between his lips, clearly annoyed. But he must have respected Fahrenheit enough to take her words into account because he didn’t flay the point any further.

“Jesus… all right, then. I’ll be around the Square if ya need me, yeah?” He turned slowly back towards the rest of us, his black eyes drifting down to focus all the more intensely on Piper. Naturally. “You gals okay? He didn’t… try nothin’ with any of ya, did he?”

Piper curled her shoulder lightly, reaching up to tuck her hair in behind her ear. A gesture I fully recognized as her feeling under scrutiny. Or shy, perhaps. The two emotions seemed to go hand in hand with her.

“Tried to take Blue’s caps out of her bag but she gave him a few good clips behind the ear for his trouble.”

Adrian smirked and winked in my direction. “Atta girl. Boss’d be proud.”

“I’m sure he would.” I said, returning his smile before then snapping my fingers beside my head. “Hey, if you need something to focus on, would you mind doing me a little favour since you’re going to the butchers?”

“Sure. What are you needing?”

I set my bag down and immediately started rummaging through it for the now damp notepad and pen that I kept tucked away in one of the side pockets. “I’m making dinner for John tonight and I was going to pick myself up a couple of supplies after I’d been to Meaghan’s. You’d sure be saving me a trip? I’ll give you the caps, of course.”

“Ain’t nothing. Got a list? I’d try and remember but you know –” He gave an embarrassed little smile as he tapped the knuckle of his index finger against his temple. Indicating, I think, that he had poor memory retention and was clearly not proud of the matter. Poor sweetheart. 

I finally happened upon the pen and paper and started to quickly jot down the items that I needed; writing so quickly that my words were nearly illegible:

-          Minced Beef

-          Bread Rolls x 4

-          1x Loaf of Bread

-          Butter

-          3x Blood leaf

-          4x Mirelurk Eggs (Small as possible)

-          Pepper

-          Salt

-          BBQ sauce

-          Block of Cheese

-          Radscorpion venom (1x small bottle)

-          Melon Blossom

-          5x Tato’s

-          1x Radstag fillet

-          1x small satchel of flour

-          1x Mutfruit

-          1x small satchel of sugar

-          1x small satchel of cornstarch

-          2x Small gourds

-          1x Bottle of red wine

-          Chicken livers (If possible. Only need about a handful).

I handed the list over to Adrian and Piper’s eyes widened as she caught sight of it.

“Good God. The man won’t be back ‘til after dark _._ ”

“Good.” Fahrenheit said, using the alley wall to stub out the withered stub of her exhausted cigarette. “It’ll keep him busy while I try and hunt down Hancock.”

Adrian cocked his head to the side and his brow twitched up uncertainly as he looked the list over.

“Holy shit, Munch.” He remarked, flashing me a sceptical look. “You feedin’ the boss or all of Goodneighbor with this?”

I shrugged unapologetically. “I know it seems like a lot but I’m doing three courses and the meals are pretty basic.”

Adrian’s head titled even further to the side; so that his ear near rested against the rise of one of his big broad shoulders. “Maybe in _your_ mind, kid.” He mumbled, reading down further and twisting his lip as he happened upon one of the more unusual ingredients. “Radscorpion venom?”

“I use it to make the spicy relish that goes on the stuffed beef burgers.”

“What do you stuff them with?” Cait asked, though I’m fairly certain she knew the answer already.

“Love.” I replied, which immediately set everyone to pulling faces and offering up various demeaning ‘aww’ noises. I chuckled and made some gestures with my hands to represent the stacking up of a burger. “I use Radstag bacon, cheese, tato’s and salt and pepper. I cook the cheese between two patties first, so that it oozes out when you bite into it. Then I slap on some bacon, a blood leaf and a cooked egg, add the relish and drop a toasted bun on top.”

“Oh, _I_ remember those.” Cait murmured, her eyes lighting up as her once Chem affected mind danced back through the damaged neurons to light upon the not so distant memory of dinners past. “You did them out on the trail once! They were fucking lush.”

“Spicy though.” Piper added, waving her fingers at her mouth as though she were currently reliving the burn as she spoke. “Gotta make sure you don’t have a cut in your mouth when you eat them. That venom could knock you on your ass.”

“Hancock loves them. Said it was his favorite dish out of everything I whacked together out there.” I murmured, smiling as I remembered back to the first moment he had bitten into one of those bad boys. Not that I could claim credit for the idea entirely. I’d had to improvise with Wasteland fair, for a start. And the original idea for the burger came from one I had sampled in Minneapolis called a Juicy Lucy. I’d been travelling around with my college swim team and I’d been partial to the odd bud or two back in the day. So a burger that pretty much spurted out melted cheese? Oh, _man._ Fucking stoner, _Heaven._

And always a winner where men were concerned. I wasn’t sure how I might have thrown it all together out in the Wasteland but I’d managed to personalize a burger that combined the juicy meltiness of the Lucy with some of the spiciness of a Mexican dish. And all with shit I managed to scrape together in the culinary challenged expanse of the greater Commonwealth region. A feat I couldn’t pretend to be modest about, giving the work required and the reaction I received.

The first time I had made those burgers, I’m pretty sure all the men wanted to have sex with me directly after. If only to show their appreciation for feeding them something so drippily, deliciously grotty. But they’d all quickly succumbed to food coma and weren’t able to do anything other than rub their swollen bellies and tip more beer into their mouths.

A risk for tonight, to be sure. After all, I was hoping that Hancock would have energy enough to crawl on over and lick me cleaner than he had the plates from which the food came. But a risk well worth it because I wanted to make him a good, sumptuous meal. Something I knew he enjoyed and something from which he would take pleasure. Perhaps I’m shallow for feeling this way but I derived a great deal of personal satisfaction in seeing people satisfied by my meals. A sort of… vicarious, food pornography perhaps?

Fahrenheit happened to glance over at the list herself and she turned away after a few seconds examination, tutting out from beneath her curled lip.

“Jesus. No wonder he came back fat.”

“He came back _healthy._ ” I said, beaming at the memory of how John had looked with that bit of extra weight on him. I petted my own stomach to indicate. _“_ With a cute little podgy pot.”

“Which you’re clearly making great strains in reinstating, Munch. What exactly are you done makin’ with all these ingredients anyhow?” Adrian’s gaze was not curious so much as it was now genuinely concerned. “ _Chicken_ livers?”

I couldn’t pretend to not see the others pull a face at this. Surely I couldn’t have been the only one to attempt such a thing in the past two-hundred years, could I? I mean, really? What had people been doing this whole time; growing carrots, smoking and fucking each other silly? Didn’t _anyone_ experiment in the kitchen anymore?

“You got Radchicken’s about the place, don’t you?”

“Well yeah,” Adrian conceded, still with a look on his face that suggested he had just found me wearing a tinfoil hat and scrawling on the ground with my own faeces. “But most folks eat the legs, wings or breast meat. What in the blue hell do ya want with their _livers_?”

Cait laughed out loud as her palm slapped bawdily to the wall of my back. “Look out. Evie’s apparently not just content with shaggin’ a Ghoul. Apparently she wants to be one as well.”

Adrian titled his head towards her doubtfully. “Well, _I’m_ a Ghoul and I can’t say I much fancy eatin’ no darn chicken livers. Uck.”

“How little you all know.” I said, placing my hands on my hips haughtily. “I use them to make patté. That’s where the red wine’s going. Just a shame I don’t have any onions to work with. They make all the difference…”

“Pretty sure one of the stalls is sellin’ onions.” Adrian said, twisting about in order to stuff my list into the back pocket of his pants. They were stretched tight against the firm globes of his ass and I was momentarily distracted from our discussion in favor of admiring it. “Haven’t been able to grow ‘em in the Commonwealth but they manage it out a bit further West. I’ll ask around for ya.”

“Oh, thankyou Adrian, you are a darling.” I said, trying to pretend as though I hadn’t almost pitched myself over sideways in my attempt to get a better look at his hiney. From the smack Piper lay to my upper arm, I could tell I hadn’t been all that subtle. “The rest of the stuff is to make the burgers and a Mutfruit pie for desert.”

I saw Piper roll her eyes quite obviously at me. “Oh my God…. Look out, women’s lib hard at work in the kitchen here!”

I crossed my arms at her defensively. “I _like_ cooking, Piper!! If it was a pain in the ass, I wouldn’t bother with it! I’d just- get a pack of Blamco Mac and Cheese and just slam it into a bowl and pass Hancock a spoon.”

“S’cool Munch. I like cooking too.” Adrian said, flashing Piper a small and adorably shy smile. “Don’t know how good I am at it but I’m always lookin’ to improve.”

“Right.” Fahrenheit intervened, placing her hand firmly to Adrian’s upper arm as though to remind him of his life outside of this conversation. “Well, you’ve got your shopping list now, so I suggest you run along and grab those things, whilst _I_ try to sniff out the boss.”

I handed Adrian a few bags of caps; including the one that Marowski had tried to appropriate from me earlier. They were still a little damp from where they had dropped to the floor in the shower room but I’m sure he didn’t notice.

“Here… that should be enough to cover it, I hope. Just come and find me at Meaghan’s if I’ve sold you short.”

Adrian took the caps and placed them carefully into the bag he wore at his side. “It’s okay. You guys just… keep an eye on each other, yeah?” He reached down, gently taking up Piper’s hand and planting a kiss to her knuckles. There weren’t many men who could pull this off without making it look phoney but the fact that he brought her hand to his mouth and did it so naturally, is what completely sold it, I think. I could seek her cheeks reddening as he squeezed her palm and offered up his slow, vulnerable little half smile. “I’ll, uh… catch ya soon.”

Piper, looking completely flustered beyond articulation, managed to quirk up her own lips into some semblance of a smile in return.

“Yeah… uh… s-see you soon.”

Adrian, still beaming as he backed away, almost reversed directly over Fahrenheit; who smacked him so hard up the back of the head for his efforts that it almost dislodged his Fedora. _‘Eyes to the front, dickhead!’_ she hissed and he managed to stumble about like a big drunken bear, padding along behind her in his usual amiable fashion. Of course, Cait and I were hardly able to leave it alone and we both turned to direct no doubt identical teasing smirks towards Piper’s blushing face. Knowing what was coming, she had already turned and stalked off down the alleyway towards the shelter that had once belonged to Bobbi No-Nose.

“Don’t _even start_ , you two.”

“Oh my God, now _that_ is one hell of a man.” I fawned, trailing along behind Piper whilst waving my spare hand at my neck and face. “I tell ya; if I didn’t have a John Hancock to contend with, I’d smother that big gorgeous lug with butter and just _eat_ him all up.”

Cait laughed as she bunted her hip against mine. “Heh, you’re tellin’ me. I think I’m startin’ to get what you necrophile’s see in the post-person scene.” She shrugged as she slung her arm up behind her head, sipping her beer casually as we trailed after Piper down the alley. “Buuu~uuut that might just be because I suspect he’s hung like a Deathclaw.”

Piper whipped around on us with the force of a propeller blade and shoved a warning finger against her lips.

“Oh, would you just _shoosh_ up, Cait! Walls have ears around here, you know?”

Cait just laughed the louder as she shot a wink back towards Piper. “I’m sure it’s not news to Addy how big his dick is. I’m guessing he’s probably run across it a few times in the shower by now. Probably trips over it getting _into_ the shower…”

I gave her what I hoped was a comically suspicious look as I sipped once more from my wine. “How would _you_ know whether he has a big dick or not? He may be one of those guys who’s ripped like a tank physically but has a teeny tiny micro-penis.”

“No way. I can always tell.” She fluttered her lashes as she jabbed her elbow into my ribs knowingly. “By the way; good for you, love.”

“Are you congratulating me for Johns big penis? Or for _my_ big penis?”

“Ha, both, I guess?”

Piper groaned, tilting her head back as though appealing to God for intervention. “Oh my God you two, stop saying penis, please…”

“Seriously Piper, if you won’t take him _I_ will. He is _too_ fucking gorgeous to pass up.”

“I am _so_ telling Hancock you said that, Evie.”

“It’s all good. I have a big appetite. I’ll keep the both of them. Trot the other one out of the cupboard when I’m feeling the mood for something a little different.”

“Or you could just bring ‘em in at the same time. Bit of rotisserie style, eh?”

“I so don’t _know_ the two of you.” Piper said, speeding up so that she rounded the corner only a good few seconds ahead of Cait and I. Naturally we sped up to counter her efforts but were distracted from our teasing when Meagan’s shop finally slid into view. I offered up a low whistle of appreciation.

“Looking good.”

“I’ll say.” Piper added, nodding approvingly. “Meaghan’s gone and outdone herself with this.”

Bobbi No-Nose’s old ‘base of operations’ had been fairly much gutted and rebuilt from the ground up. The steel security doors had been replaced with two finely carved wooden substitutes, which were currently propped open to allow customers to walk directly inside. A glowing pink sign was situated above the entryway, spelling out ‘ ** _Scalice Boutique’_** in flashing, curlicue font and a wooden sandwich style board was perched against the left hand wall; detailing a list of the assorted garments currently for sale. Judging by the length of the list, it was safe to see that Meaghan had been a very busy girl.

As we swanned our way inside, I marvelled at the difference that had been made to the room. The ceiling had been repaired for one and the surrounding walls had been patched and repainted to boot. The brickwork had been sealed behind a rendering of plaster and painted a color similar to that of a mushroom; giving a clean, tidy appearance but one that wasn’t too stark and clinical. Meaghan was just the type of person who would have considered such things whence picking out a color to splash all over her establishment.

The room looked fantastic; warm and inviting whilst still maintaining an air of professionalism. Clothes were situated on rows of hangers, which had in turn been built into the interior of standing wooden shelves. Similar to what you might see in a library. Each row even had a written sign, accompanied by a characterized picture of the clothing that you would find down that isle. In addition, there were a number of standing tables scattered about with folded items to sort through and restored mannequins that had been posed on a display shelf; toting a variety of male and female specific garments. I think Meyer might have gotten to them at some point because I noticed that one of the male mannequins was draped in a long, red dress with a feathered hat perched on its head and a matching pink boa.

The counter was located at the very center of the room and was composed of three benchtops which had been slammed together to form a sideways U shape. I supposed so that customers could be served from three checkouts at once. There were a few patrons currently going about the shelves; including two girls who looked as though they were being assisted by one of Meaghan’s employees. (I assumed she was an employee because she was wearing a stylized pin on her lapel which formed the letters SB in that same jarring pink font as the sign outside).

The proprietress herself was perched behind the counter, laughing and dancing one of her always perfectly painted and deftly manicured fingernails over the ridge of Meyer’s nasal cavity. He was leaning on the bench top, so close that their faces were almost touching, chirruping away whilst chowing down on what looked like a small mountain of dainty, rectangular shaped sandwiches. When the three of us walked in the door, Meaghan immediately glanced up to greet us but upon seeing who it was, her smile increased all the more in its genuine radiance.

“Ah – there you are!!”

“Here I am.” I confirmed, smiling as Meaghan swept from around the counter and hoovered towards me with all the drama of an imperial empress. At thirty-six, she had the poise and physical presence of someone ten years her junior and more than enough sass to power an army. She was beautiful, statuesque and as glamorous as a person was permitted in this barren, inhospitable world. I always loved the way that she floofed up her black, curly hair into unapologetic waves about her head. Like a 70’s style diva, or something. I was _never_ brave enough to attempt such a style; one which naturally drew such attention.

But this was Meaghan to a T. The woman was a Goddess beyond compare. And yet still in possession of something I can only ascribe to being similar to good old fashioned Southern belle hospitality. Though she had never been to the South of course. But she still managed to somehow dance this perfect, unimaginable line between refinement and warmth; a diva, devoid of the bitchiness that seemed to come part and parcel with glamorous women of my own time.

She looked stunning as usual. And as extraordinarily outrageous, of course. No one in the Commonwealth dressed like Meaghan and I can’t imagine that even within the Institute they could find a soul who possessed such unrivalled knack to entwine fabric and thread into what glorious shapes she bequeathed to the world. Currently, her enviable curves were draped in a floor length purple dress; bedazzled at every corner with sequins and intricately weaved with lash embellishments. The straps formed a halter, which pinned up neatly beneath her usual extravagant floof of hair and most of her back, as I shortly thereafter found when she embraced me, was bare.

“How ya been, Meg?” I asked, smiling as I squeezed her up against my body; wondering all the while whether I had anything dangling from my clothing that might snag on her beautiful dress. It was almost a relief when she stepped back and I saw that we weren’t attached by anything.

“Oh, girl! Better for seeing that sweet little mug of yours, _that’s_ for sure! Meyer just finished telling me the news!” She chuckled happily as she leaned in, planting a big sumptuous smooch on the side of my face. No doubt leaving behind an imprint of her vibrant maroon lipstick in the process. “Oh, thank the Lord above the two of you _finally_ got your act together! Honey, you got no _idea_ how miserable John was without you!” She exclaimed, sweeping her hands back from her face dramatically. “We’ve all been praying that you would swing back into town and sweep that gorgeous man off of his feet.”

Cait laughed as she took another swig from her rapidly depleting beer bottle. “Come on, Meg… I know she’s strong and all but I think it’s the guy who’s supposed to be doing the sweeping.”

Meaghan smiled as she drifted over to give Cait a hug. “Well, I’m sure he’ll be doing plenty of that, given the time.” She murmured, turning now and reaching her bangle bejewelled arms out towards Piper. “Hello darling, how have you been?”

Piper sighed as she rested gently into Meaghan’s embrace. “It’s been a long day. But it looks like _you’ve_ been working your butt off as well.”

Meaghan sighed happily, clapping her hands together as she spun in a radiant circle; gesturing about the shop.

“Oh, honey, it’s like a dream come true. Couldn’t have made it happen without that fella of yours though, Evie.” She added, floating back over towards the counter and plucking what looked like a martini glass off of the surface. She took a moment to sip from the pink tinted contents before sending a knowing smile back in my direction. “He’s been sweet enough to keep me afloat while I’ve been workin’ ta make this place self-sufficient, you see. Anyhow, come on over here and get rid of those beer bottles; the lot of you. I’m drinking Vodka watermelons and I’ve been looking for some civilized lady folk to share it with.”

“Still not sure I’m sold on the name though…” Meyer muttered, as the three of us ambled over to the counter and watched whilst Meaghan magicked three extra martini glasses into view from beneath the counter. “I mean, it’s my surname and it’s up there for everyone to see in neon pink.”

“Says a lot for your security, darl.” I said, giving him what I hoped was a reassuring wink.

Meyer scoffed, not looking the least convinced. “Says a lot for my sexuality.”

Meaghan hesitated in pouring out the Vodka watermelon from the shaker in her hands and stared off into the middle distance with the sort of ‘God, give me strength’ look that I think _all_ married women are well practiced in.

“Better than what _you_ suggested.” She finally added before resuming her task of topping up all of the glasses with a generous helping of strong, pink liquor. I could see Cait licking the corner of her lips in anticipation and for good reason; Meaghan’s cocktails were _always_ amazing. “He wanted to call it ‘Dacks for Cracks’ or some stupid shit.”

Meyer shrugged innocently. “Everyone needs dacks to cover their cracks.”

“Well, it’s hardly sophisticated, is it?” Meaghan grumbled, delicately pushing the brimming glasses across the counter top towards the three of us. Cait and Piper immediately abandoned their beers in favor of the sweet, cold, fruity beverage but I stalwartly stuck with my wine for the moment. Plenty of time to get to the cocktail and I’d sure as shit be needing as much Dutch courage as I could retain in the next half hour or so.

Meyer laughed from around the sandwich he was currently in the midst of chewing. “Oh yes. Because we are _such_ a sophisticated couple, _dolcezza_.”

Meaghan smiled indulgently as she leant across the counter top and used a napkin to wipe mustard from the corner of Meyer’s mouth. “I’m not the one letting the side down, _facia bruta._ ” She purred, laughing as she pushed the napkin into his hand and then leaned back against the counter top; leg crossed daintily and pink cocktail poised by her chin. “And not that it isn’t wonderful to see you beautiful women just for the sake of seeing you but is there anything you’d like any help with, specifically? Or are you just checking out the new digs?”

“Having a bit of a treacle beak. But I do need to grab a new bra and a set of undies. Also, wouldn’t mind fetching out a nice outfit for tonight.” I smiled as pleasure welled up inside of me; a feeling that I may or may not have ended up eating later, if Hancock reacted poorly to my news. I tried to remain positive for the while. “John’s taking me out on our first official date.”

Well, you would think that it was _Meaghan’s_ first date from the way that she reacted. Her cocktail almost ended up all over the floor because she was fluttering her hand with clearly mounting excitement. Geez, it was no secret just how invested the whole town was in John Hancock’s love life, was it?

“And you want _me_ to dress you?” Meaghan stated, letting loose a happy little shriek that forced Meyer to shift his head away from her in seasoned annoyance. “Hell _yes_ , sister! If _this_ doesn’t get me in the perpetual good books with that man, I don’t know _what_ will!”

Meyer blinked at her, plainly nonplussed from behind his gradually dwindling pile of assorted sandwiches.

“You’re _already_ in good with _Capo, Tesoro Mio._ Man’s still floating the shop for ya, ain’t he? What more ya reckon you can squeeze out of him?”

Meaghan smacked her hand to the back of his head, frowning at his lack of perception. “Why nothing less than a big, dopey smile when he sees how beautiful I’ve helped his already gorgeous girlfriend look! And it doesn’t hurt to build a reputation for dressing up the Goodneighbor elite.”

“Goodness, do _I_ count as Goodneighbor elite now?” I chuckled, pressing my fingertips to my chest and rising up on my tiptoes to emulate a grandiose and pretentious pose. Most often seen with any of the pompous twits to be found in Diamond City’s upper stands.

“I had no idea there _was_ a Goodneighbor elite.” Piper said, brows arching uncertainly as she sipped from her cocktail and loosed one very satisfied sigh in response. It made me want to shoot back the last of my wine and stuff my face into my own martini glass but I marshalled what powers of resistance I still had in my possession.

Meaghan waggled a finger confidently in our direction. “Well, there _will_ be once I’m done. And a mayor’s girlfriend is a good start; seeing as how I can’t make his royal highness wear anything other than that threadbare old soldier uniform of his…”

Cait laughed as she and her already half-finished cocktail took a walk over to one of the clothing racks and started flicking through the items on display. “Got myself a hard time imagining Hancock in anything _other_ than the uniform, actually.”

“Can’t really see him in shorts and a t-shirt, no…” Piper added and Meaghan chuckled as she swept out from behind the counter and offered up an empress like gesture to the rear stairwell.

“Well, undergarments and swimsuits are upstairs. If you’d like to follow me Evie, I’ll get you all fitted for a new bra. Meyer, can you stay and watch the shop for me, darling?”

Meyer gave a little salute as he hopped the counter and dropped directly into a chair that had been hidden just out of sight. “No sweat, babe. Got some sandwiches and a frothy to tide me over. All set.”

Cait gave me a questioning look as she trotted back over from the clothing rack she had just been perusing.

“Oi, speaking of swimsuits, Evie; why didn’t you just whack on your bikini top when your bra got all bloodied up out there?” She waggled her brows and jabbed her elbow into my side. “Bet you just wanted Hancock to get a good hard look at your goodies unrestrained, eh?”

I sighed and used my hand to push her back by the crown of her ruffled head. “I left my swimsuit back at… _Spectacle Island_. Didn’t want to be carrying anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary.” I jabbed my finger towards the stairwell. “Anyway, you girls needing new knickers or anything?”

“Yeah, I’ll pop on up.” Piper said, her eyes picking apart the intricate stylings of Meaghan’s dress as the woman sashayed ahead of her. “Keep you company while we wait for Hancock to turn up.”

Meaghan’s mouth formed a near perfect ‘O’ of disbelief as she turned to look back over her shoulder. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve got to get the guys tick of approval for your new underthings, Evie?”

I laughed as Piper, Cait and myself traipsed up the stairs in Meaghan’s glamorous wake. “Shit no. Just got… something we need to run by him.” I jabbed my hand out towards Piper as I saw her lips part in the corner of my vision. “Piper just… do me a favor and wait until John gets here first, please. Save retelling the story over and over again.”

“Hmm. Something serious?” Meaghan asked, reaching out to switch on the bulb that hung above the connected stairwell. It was dimmer than its cousin in the shopfront and did little more than cast the lower halves of everyone’s bodies into black, serrated shadows. Still looked a hell of a lot better than when Bobbi was running her ‘legitimate business’ out of the building.

“Looks that way. But let’s not get caught up in it now. All I want to focus on is sorting out my pantie situation.” I said, letting out another involuntary whistle as we stepped out of the dim stairwell and into the sunlit room of above. The floor had been entirely repaired of course, given that it comprised the ceiling of the room down below and been repainted in the same, snug color.

It seemed bigger as well, namely because there were no standing shelves in this room; though Meaghan had installed five curtained change rooms on the far right wall. The rest of the space was comprised of descending circular display tables; upon which she had artistically displayed every imaginable type of bra, pantie and unmentionable so that they fanned out and seemed to expand upon themselves. 

It was an impressive display, even by the standards of my time. Perhaps all the more so because, like so many of the Goodneighbor folk, Meaghan clearly had a deviant side. And this naughtiness must obviously came out in her lingerie designs. My Lord, some of her selections were enough to make a Porn-star take a second glance.

Cait echoed my earlier whistle as she marched right on up to one of the closest tables and picked up a microscopic pair of lace knickers. She spun them about on her finger as though they were a little lasso.

“Hooley-dooley Meg, you _have_ been a busy girl, haven’t ya?”

Meaghan dabbed a hand through the air in a nearly perfect impression of modesty. “Oh my darlings, I confess: I fucking love it! Underpants and bras are my favorite things to make!” She chortled lightly as she swept around the room, making minor imperceptible adjustments to some of the display items. “Meyer’s been having the time of his life; being my little guinea pig.”

Piper eyes widened. “What, you make him _wear_ the knickers and walk around in them?”

“Sometimes.” Meaghan replied, which naturally sent the rest of us to laughing. “Usually _I_ just put them on and get him to rate them, though.” She gave a dramatic sigh as she picked up a bra from one display, refolded the straps and set it down so that it perched up and to attention perfectly. “Very difficult with a man. He just likes them if they’re tiny. Doesn’t really care about style, color, design. Very partial to the thongs, of course.”

“You made _thongs?_ ” Cait exclaimed, clearly unable to hide her glee at the prospect of perhaps owning knickers even _smaller_ than the ones she already had on. _“_ Like… g-strings, you mean.”

Meaghan laughed as she gestured off towards one of the adjacent display tables and its meagre offering of nigh invisible underthings. “G-string is different from a thong cut, honey. G-string is quite simply a piece of string that goes up the butt, whereas the thong is a thicker band.”

“But you have both?”

“I have both.” Meaghan said, chuckling benevolently. Cait immediately dropped the pair of underpants she had been in the midst of molesting and zipped over to the display table Meaghan had pointed out earlier. She pounced on something so tiny, the only defining feature I was able to make out at the distance I was standing, was that the undergarment appeared to be purple in color. Cait held it aloft like the severed head of a defeated tribesman.

“Wow… I can see why Meyer’s been having such a good time.”

“Key to a happy marriage.”

Cait foisted the tiny, see through unification of purple dyed dental floss towards me with what I imagine she thought was a supportive expression.

“Evie, you have _so_ gotta wear this for Hancock tonight. He’ll sign like… all of Goodneighbor over to you if you do.”

I took one closer look at the tiny underpants and the translucent lace panel that composed the supposed ‘front’ of it and near snorted wine back out through my nose.

“Yeah, fucking right.”

“But why?” Cait demanded, examining the g-string by holding it up in front of her denim skirt and swishing her hips from side to side. “It would look so sexy on you…”

“Oh, any number of reasons.” I established, holding out my hand and extending each of my fingers as I counted off the contributing factors. “One; it’s tiny and perverse. Two; my giant ass would eat it alive and three, if you remember right, I didn’t get a chance to trim my bikini line back. If I wore any of these microscopic undies my pubic hair’d be poking out the sides like spider legs.”

Piper burst out laughing, nearly spraying vodka watermelon all over the bras that she had been examining at one of the nearby display tables.

“Well _that’s_ a lovely image, Blue.”

Meaghan turned and fluttered her fingers at me. “Honey, if you like I’d be happy to help tidy up your bikini line? I’m meaning to introduce it as an additional service to the shop; you know, so that gals can wear these sorts of panties without feeling self-conscious regarding their body hair.”

I lifted my brow at her uncertainly. “Sort of like a… beautician, you mean?”

She nodded, pursing her lips as though having only just considered the word itself. “I… guess that would be a good name for it. I need to keep my own bikini line waxed back so I can get an idea of how the knickers will look when I model them. Wouldn’t be too difficult doing someone else’s after ripping mine out.”

“Oh my God, so you actually use the wax?” Cait queried, looking more excited than she had been to discover the non-existent panties.

“Strips of it, yeah. Make it from a breakdown of florals and natural adhesives. Totally fine on the skin, I’ve been using it on myself for months.” And, because she clearly felt we needed an example, Meaghan happily ravelled up the side of her dress so that it sat in a glittering bundle on her flared hip. The panties she wore beneath were black, cut high and trimmed with a line of lace. She hoiked the flap at the front to the side a little, revealing a smooth patch of hairless skin. “See? Ain’t nothin’ to fear, lovie.”

“Well… would actually be a big help.” I conceded, as Meaghan dropped her dress down as dramatically as a curtain falling at the finale of a grand Operetta. “But… maybe after I’ve gotten a bit more of this wine down me, eh? And that cocktail to boot.”

Meaghan laughed understandingly as she smoothed out wrinkles in her dress that were invisible to an unfashionable philistine like me. “Does sting like a son of a bitch, I don’t mind tellin’ ya. Especially with hair like mine; roots are so fucking deep.” She paused for just long enough to press her dainty fingernails into the hair on her head; ensuring, I think, that none of that voluminous bounce had been lost in the past ten minutes. “So, how about I fit you for that bra in the meantime?”

“Oh, you don’t need to go to all that effort. Just match it with this old one here.” I said, dropping my duffle back off of my shoulder and scrounging inside until I found the old broken bra that I’d stored away for just this moment. I took it out and passed it into Meaghan’s hands, sipping from my wine as she turned it this way and that; examining the old world label and raising her brow a little in curiosity. I thought she might have been intrigued by the fact that this undergarment had been fashioned over two hundred years ago but it wasn’t this that she appeared to be taking umbrage with. Not two seconds later, she glanced up at me from beneath her thick black lashes, with a very sceptical expression.

“And you’re sure this uh… bra fit you properly?” She asked, tilting it to the side and taking another, even closer look at the label. “It says 42C on the tag…”

I shrugged, unconcerned. “I wear them a little tighter. You know, with all the running around I’ve got to do out there.”

Cait gasped dramatically from across the other side of the room. “Poor little puppies. You’d have to squash them in, wouldn’t you Eve?”

“That’s precisely what I was thinking…” Meaghan muttered as she continued to rotate the bra about in her hands like it was being hurled about the interior of a washing machine. I perched my hand on my hips and flashed them both an overstated expression of offense.

“Are you both suggesting that I have enormous jubblies?”

Meaghan scoffed, clearly unconcerned by my tone. “I ain’t suggestin’ nothin’ honey, I’m outright saying it!” She reached out to poke me in the chest with the bra itself. “I mean, they’re not ridiculous enormous. That mantle still belongs to the Miss Magnolia; god bless that hard workin’ little spine of hers. And your breasts are definitely in proportion to your body; given that you’re curvy and all. Not ta mention, ya got yourself a broad back and shoulders.”

“That’s me.” I said, puffing out my chest and slinging my shoulders back. “Sturdy and manly.”

“Hardly manly. I just know from one look at you that you’re definitely not a C cup. Not on your frame. You been measured in the past?”

“Course. 34dd.”

Meaghan tilted her brow forward; looking less impressed by the minute. “And yet you persist with squeezing those big gorgeous bosoms of yours into a bra that’s clearly too small for you.”

I groaned with annoyance. “Because I’m _physical_! Always have been! Hurts like hell if you gotta run around out there with these monstrous articles-” I grabbed my left breast and pushed it up to emphasize the sheer weight of it. “-bouncing about all over the place. It’s dangerous; you could give yourself a black eye!”

“I bet you just wear a smaller bra because you like having your tits spilling out over the top of them.” Cait jeered and I turned to shoot a glare over my shoulder at her.

“Unlike _you, madam,_ I don’t _wear_ tiny skimpy bras, I get full coverage thankyou. No spillage, no overflow.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about being athletic tonight, hopefully.” Meaghan said, trotting over to a silver bin by the doorway and pressing the toe of one of her elegant shoes to operate the lever. She dropped the broken bra inside with a disdainful flick of her right hand. “Although god knows what John Hancock would consider to be a romantic evening for the two of you.”

“I second that.” I admitted, feeling as though I should go and fetch the bra back out of the bin. If only as a keepsake of the old days. But I would try and do it when Meaghan wasn’t watching; after all, she might go into a fashion related meltdown if I started to display hoarding tendencies for what she clearly deemed to be ‘unsuitable clothing’. She could barely reconcile the fact that I was more interested in wearing jeans and t-shirts than anything she considered to be truly ‘feminine’.

“So,” Meaghan concluded, sweeping away from the bin and back towards the table I had seen her fussing at only earlier. “What say, you let me fit you in a nice, sexy looking bra that actually _fits_? I can even find something with matching bottoms if you like?”

I bit my lip, concerned that Meaghan’s taste in underpants might not run complimentary to my own. “Well, if you’re going to match the knickers, can you please choose something that’s a little more… modest than one of those-” I waggled a finger indistinguishably towards Cait. “– _things_ that Cait keeps flapping about?”

Cait naturally pulled a face. “Oh Evie, come _on!_ Give the poor guy a break. He’s been waiting over a year to fuck you and now you can’t even flash him a little skin? You are fucking _cheap_.”

“ _I have a HUGE ass._ ” I enunciated, turning and slapping my hand to the back of my butt to further attest my statement. _“_ There’d be no point in me buying one of those teeny little things because you’d never be able to find it amongst all of my-” I gestured wildly across the expanse of it. “– big… dimply bum fat!”

I could hear Meaghan chuckling as she sorted through some of the bras on the table nearby. “Honey, if you had heard half the things the Neighborhood Watch boys say about your ass, you wouldn’t be complaining.”

This immediately perked me up. I might not have considered myself to be a vain person but it’s not like I got to hear flattering comments about my figure every day of the week. At this time in my life, I would take what compliments I could get with a smile on my face.

“What, _really_? Pleasant things, I hope.”

Meaghan smiled tellingly. “Pleasant, yes. Appropriate for polite conversation? Hardly. Now.” She turned and held suspended from one hand, a beautifully designed bra in Royal blue and a matching pair of Tanga cut underwear from the other.  “Think you might be able to handle the scandal of a tanga cut, darling?”

I took a sip from my wine, feeling my eyes widening in appreciation of Meaghan’s talent. Got to give the girl credit: She has a gift when it comes to design.

“Oh, wow. Even I gotta admit that’s a beautiful pair of Bully-Woolies.” I stated, feeling that the description couldn’t have been any less accurate, for there was nothing woolly about the garments at all.

They were made from lace, for one thing; the same matching blue as the doona cover on Hancock’s bed. Though the material had been designed to resemble intricate creeping vines that branched out across the cups of the bra and sideways along the front panel of the underpants. The material found between was sort of shear; offering the smallest hint of a glimpse beyond whilst not permitting it entirely. The hemline was carefully designed lace as well; resembling almost, the bulbs of budding flowers. The bra was made of thicker material but both articles had clearly been made to compliment the other. I could only wonder at the hours Meaghan and her crew had invested in crafting this one set of underpants alone.

“Yep-ah.” Meaghan sighed smugly, tilting her head to examine the garment and brushing off the bras cups with the back of her hand. “If _this_ little baby doesn’t see me through the next few months tax free, I don’t know _what_ will. Now,” She added, swaying her finger from side to side over the hanger of the bra at me. “I have an idea for an adorable little outfit for tonight but I’ll ask first; were you thinking of wearing a dress maybe? Or going a bit more… casual?”

I hmmed to myself over this, staring up at the ceiling as I slowly sipped from my wine again. “Oh... Well, I was thinking since tomorrow is the Christmas party, that I would probably wear a dress for that. You know; glam it up a bit. I could use your help picking something out for that as well, actually.”

Meaghan smiled in such a way that made me feel that I had addressed her query perfectly. “How about we uh, wait for tomorrow first? There may already be something in the works. Okay.” She petted the bra like she might a much adored handbag pooch. “If you trust me, I think I can help you throw together a cute ensemble that this bra would go perfectly with. Let’s see how it fits first, huh?”

“Sure.” I said, making to march my way over to the change rooms with wine still in hand, of course. Meaghan battered the still hangered bra and panties at the side of my arm to stop me in my tracks.

“Where you goin’ honey? Just strip off here! No one’s coming up this way without Meyer stoppin’ em first.”

I shrugged, not having a huge amount of concern for anyone seeing me in the altogether (especially after what had just happened with Marowski) and set my wine down on the table nearby in order to disrobe. Once I was naked to the waist, Meaghan used a tape measure that she had whipped from somewhere to measure my back, shoulders, breasts and… just about everything that could likely have some impact on a bra, I suppose. She concluded in the end that yes, I definitely was a thirty-four double d and fitted me to the bra that matched my size. I had to admit, it did cradle me comfortably and I liked the way that it looked. I’m sure Hancock would have enjoyed it too; given the way it pushed my tits together and opened at the front rather than the back.

Meaghan showed me how the straps could come away neatly and pointed out the cords at the front that could be used to bring the material tighter to the curves of my breasts if required. The back strap was designed to sit lower on the spine, so that you could wear a lower top with it; she explained. Something she clearly intended to offer up in way of my date attire.

“Looks hot as hell, Evie.” Cait remarked, as I turned myself this way and that way in Meaghan’s standing mirror; studying every little angle of myself in the bra. “Hancock’ll flip his lid when ya take your kit off.”

Meaghan tittered cheerfully as she scooped up my discarded clothing and patted her hand to the sway of my back. “Speaking of the kit, let’s get you downstairs so we can attempt this get up I was thinking of.”

I turned to give her a look. “What? Just strut on down there with Meyer and the other customers hanging around?”

She waved a hand nonchalantly. “Oh honey, Meyer’s used to gals walking around him in their underwear. So long as he’s got food and a beer under his chin he doesn’t take any notice.”

I shrugged, taking her word for this and followed the others back down into the shop; carrying my duffle and wearing nothing but my new bra, shorts and slip on shoes. A couple of other female customers had drifted into the store whilst we were upstairs but Meyer was focused more intently on polishing off his beer, feet propped on the counter top, whilst reading a _Grognak the Barbarian_ comic book. He glanced up as we trundled on in and then licked his finger and dropped it back down to flick over another page of his book; apparently unconcerned.

“Heya, Munch. Hey girls.”

“Hey again, Meyer.” Cait said, as she traipsed back over to the counter to help herself to the shaker of cocktail beneath it. “Good comic?”

Meyer clucked his tongue noncommittally. “Not bad so far as toilet tripe goes. And I was actually talking to Munch’s tits just now, love.”

I felt my face go bright red and I immediately slammed both my hands over each of my breasts to hide them. Meaghan scowled as she stomped over to the counter, smacked Meyer on the back of the head and foisted out from beneath a white cotton robe. I felt my blood freeze in my veins for a moment; it reminded me so uncannily of the one Doctor Amari had given me that night I had been assaulted.

“Meyer! Don’t you go and embarrass the poor girl now!” Meaghan scolded, marching back over and passing me the robe to put on. She turned back to scowl at her husband, not noticing how much I hesitated to cover myself with that terrifyingly reminiscent material. “I just promised that you would behave yourself!”

“Well, that was a stupid thing to go and do. Ten years of marriage and you still don’t know me at all.” Meyer smiled at her lightly, before turning back to the comic book with a relaxed chuckle. “Besides, Munch knows I’m only teasin’. Looks good on ya, kid.”

“Do you think it’s the sort of thing Mayor Hancock would like?” Meaghan asked, apparently assuaged by Meyer’s assessment of her work. I in turn was pleased by his critique of how I _looked_ in his wife’s work. Win’s all round.

Meyer glanced up and stared back at his wife incredulously. “How in the blue hell am _I_ supposed to know, hon? _Capo_ and I don’t exactly spend our idle hours talkin’ about the kinds of knickers we like to see our lasses in!” He flicked another page of his comic, lip curled disbelievingly. “A bloke’s lucky if he can even _tell_ what color the damn things are before they come off. Sorry to be typical but we’re usually more interested in what’s underneath.”

Meaghan strung her hands on her hips, rolling her own eyes back towards the ceiling. “That’s very helpful advice Meyer, thankyou. Especially helpful when you’re helming the counter and people might start coming to you for advice.”

“Hey, you’re the tailor here, love.” He shot back, fluttering his eyes at her in an impression of innocence that he plainly didn’t possess. “I’m just a humble little Neighborhood Watchmen; trying to make his way in a lonely and dangerous world with nothing more than a blunt axe and a dream.”

“And an increasingly irritated wife. Now, get your feet off of the table. I don’t want people’s first impression of the place to be the filthy bottoms of your shoes when they walk in the door.”

Meyer pulled a face, jiggling his head from side to side and doing some high-pitched muppet like impersonation of Meaghan’s scolding voice as he slowly swung his feet onto the floor. Meaghan of course, spun on him with such speed it just about blew all of the clothing clean off of their racks.

“ _What_ was that?!”

Meyer gave her another innocent look. “Just me being a good husband, _dolcezza.”_

“Right…” Meaghan drawled, scowling down at him with eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You taken that garbage out yet, _good husband_?”

“After I finish my afternoon tea, settle your fucking Brahmin, woman!”

Meaghan jabbed her finger at the door, her voice pitching to a new hysterical screech. “You’re going to miss the garbage guy! He does his rounds at four-thirty, it’s four o’clock now!!”

“Well if I miss him, I’ll just chase him with the bag.” Meyer exclaimed defensively, flipping the comic book about in the air as though he would very much like to apply it to the side of Meaghan’s head. “Give myself some exercise.”

“Yeah well, you need it. Work some of those sandwiches off of that big fat belly.”

Meyer smirked as he flexed his paunch so that his round belly rolled in waves. This was enough to amend Meaghan’s bad mood and send all of us to laughing.

“Oh my God, you’re so disgusting.” She groaned, taking the cocktail shaker out of Cait’s hands. She shook her head in disgust as she topped up her own glass. “Why in the name of God did I marry you?”

“Because he came back to protect you.” I reminded her, finishing off my wine and heading over to the counter to pick up my previously prepared cocktail. “After your Dad died, isn’t that right?”

Meyer glanced up from his comic book to offer me a curious look.

“Where’d you go and hear that, Munch?”

“Oh…” I mused, wondering if I had just gone and put my foot in it. But Meyer didn’t look cross so much as curious. “Jack told me before. Shit, I haven’t just gone and gotten him in trouble, have I?”

Meaghan smiled and petted the side of my arm. “No. Not at all. Kind of a nice reminder actually.” She gave Meyer a look as she reached across to squeeze the curve of his chin. “Of a time when you _used_ to be romantic.”

Piper shrugged as she twirled her finger around the inside of her now empty glass; popping it between her lips to suck off the residue. “Everyone’s romantic at the start of a relationship. Give it time and it starts to wear off a bit.”

“Not so long as ya always love each other.” Meyer contested, still staring down at his comic book as he waved a finger pointedly at the rest of us.

“And always take the garbage out when asked.” Meaghan added, which resulted in Meyer picking up his axe and pretending to drive his forehead into the blade a few times. Meaghan laughed as she toddled over to one of the shelves and started flipping through the items hanging there. “I’m curious though. Eve honey; just to sage an old housewives perverted curiosity; when was the first moment you think that you had an inkling that John had feelings for you?”

Cait cackled as she sipped her second helping of Vodka watermelon. Her eyes already looked a little cloudy from the combined effects of both this and the beer she’d guzzled earlier.

“Depends on what feelings you’re talking about, Meg. Reckon he had certain types of ‘feelings’ the second he laid eyes on her.”

I smirked as I raked my chewed up old fingernails through my damp hair. “Yeah well, I was a bit of a hottie with my long hair.”

“It’s a shame you cut it all off.” Piper mused, cocking her head sidelong at me. “I mean, you look lovely now but it was so beautiful…”

“Wasn’t practical, Piper.” I said bluntly, leaning back against the counter and sipping at my cocktail. I remembered the feeling of Marowski’s fingers digging into the back of my ponytail; the way he used my hair like a puppeteer yanks the strings of a dancing mannequin… I pulled my mind back from this and focused once more on John. Of those hundreds of moments here and there when I suspected his attraction for me but was never entirely certain of his love. Only a few stood out in greater clarity than the other, more subtle gestures. “There were quite a few times when I suspected that Hancock may have stronger feelings for me than just friendship. I always figured it was just… attraction. Physical, that is. But the time I think I _really, truly_ suspected that he might have been in love with me…” I tilted my head to the side, savouring the sweet fruity taste of the cocktail on my tongue as I drifted back in time to an afternoon, much cooler and far more challenging than _this_ one. “Almost two months back now. While we were travelling up towards Salem…”

 

**~**


	14. Momentum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was stalling for time. Stalling for another explanation when there was none. Desperate for there to be yet another truth that we had failed to appreciate. Silence was his only answer, for everyone in the room was as painfully aware of it as he was, though more willing to accept it for the simple fact that they didn’t love me the way that he did. It meant somewhat less to them to learn that I was weak and soiled and spoiled...

 

> _“Sometimes the strongest among us are the ones who smile through silent pain, cry behind closed doors and fight battles nobody knows about”. **~Unknown~**_
> 
> **Evelyn Hallows**

**_Somewhere outside of Salem – One month, three weeks ago…_ **

“Mushrooms?” Hancock repeated, peering at me through the wall of smoke he exhumed with an expression that suggested I had said something completely unfathomable.

I groaned in remembered ecstasy as cool soapy water bubbled and frothed about my fingers. “You heard it here first, brother. Any food I could bring back from my time and Mushrooms would grace the top of my list. Shortly thereafter followed by, oysters, chocolate and hotdogs. And chicken fried double cheeseburgers, oh my _god_ …”

Bizarre conversation, no? Well, chalk it up to Hancock and I having a strangely boring afternoon. And by boring, I mean that we were taking a break and the break didn’t involve either imbibing chems or alcohol to the extreme. We’d settled down in the upper floors of what had once been an old Church and were enjoying a well-earned rest after a long day of streaking ever further onward into the greater area of Salem. Hancock had set trip lines and can chimes along the stairwell and out by the doorway of the Church, so we were feeling a little cosy and lazy; knowing we had plenty of time to react if anything chose to come bumbling up on us. Didn’t help that the heat wave was still going strong and neither one of us had achieved a proper nights rest for some time; given the isolation of the locale in which we were travelling. The silliness that will erupt from a person when they’re overtired and dozy never ceases to amaze.

It all started because of… well, dinner as it were. We hadn’t wanted to risk a fire, knowing it might draw the attention of nearby undesirables, so I’d put together a very simple offering of beef sandwiches; smeared with a generous helping of homemade (well, trail made) chutney. Hancock had been making fun of me because I’d cut his sandwiches into triangles for him; a habit of mine that persisted since far back in the old days. Nothing beats the convenience of a triangle cut sandwich, right? But perhaps I had gone a little too far in having cut them into _four_ triangle shaped pieces; like dainty little offerings at high tea in a ladies club. Hancock had made a big show of sitting there, legs daintily crossed, eating his sandwiches with his pinkie finger jutting out like a car antenna and speaking for the next ten minutes with a Codsworthian-approximate accent.

He got a stout smack for his efforts and a warning that if his foolishness at my expense continued, then he could damn well cook for himself in the future. Naturally he just laughed and reminded me that he was only teasing. He behaved himself for a little while after that, munching his little triangle sandwiches with the reserved reverence of a Choir boy (appropriately enough) as I used the time I had remaining before dark as productively as possible.

I sorted through most of the shit in my bag; using an old cast off bucket I found to soak and scrub a couple of pairs of knickers. I surrendered two of our bottles of Purified water; of which we currently had twelve remaining and mixed in some of the now ever so precious washing powder that I kept secreted away in a zippered inside pocket of my duffle. Hancock polished off the last of his (third) sandwich and made us up a couple of drinks (wine for me, of course and straight Bourban for himself. It was his turn to sleep first tonight, so he was permitted to imbue something a little harder) and lit a cigarette for us to share. We’d been crapping on about just completely random shit… nothing of any real substance, mind you. Just taking the opportunity to get to know one another a bit more. And for Hancock to pry into the particulars of the world long past.

He asked me about what foods I missed from the old world and what, if I could, would I bring back. Having heard my response, his face flinched into an expression of pure disgust.

“I don’t even… _know_ what you mean by… chicken frying something.” He mumbled, frowning at the floor and twisting his face sidelong as though the mildewed planks might impress upon him a suitable interpretation. “But now you’ve just gone and confirmed everything I ever suspected about your time. That you were all as fat as fucking Brahmin and the Great War only got to you before you all managed to eat yourselves to death.”

“Hideous boy.” I pouted, dumping another precious pinch of powder into the water. “What could _you_ possibly pretend to know about my time and our diets?”

“Hey, I’ve read shit, missy. Most everything I could get my hands on, matter of fact.” He confirmed defensively, taking another drag from his smoke. It shouldn’t have surprised me. Hancock certainly wasn’t stupid but what a lot of folks failed to appreciate, was that he was also fairly well educated. He’d done well at school before he’d gone off the rails, so he’d told me. And he was certainly clever enough to understand and appreciate the importance of the past and its impact and influence on the future. I mean, he knew about _John Hancock,_ for fucks sake. “A lot of your old history books talked about the ‘obesity’ epidemic bein’ on the rise and how in the two-thousands the American people were just getting fatter and fatter. Coupla other nations had nothin’ to brag about either, from what I heard. Uh…” He tapped ash from the end of his cigarette thoughtfully; staring at the ceiling with lips forming about prospective names. “Mexico, Kuwait, Australia, Samoa… couple a others. And mainly as a result from all that… fast food malarkey you had goin’ on in that time. Your penchant for deep frying everything, injecting it with _cheese_ and _chocolate_ and then serving it in the equivalent of a farmyard fucking _trough._ I tell ya what, McDonough would have been right the fuck at home in _your_ time. He’d double the speed it usually takes to get away from his constituents by just rolling off down the nearest hill.”

I raised my arms in surrender to this brutal tirade. “Hey, you can just jolly well exclude _me_ from that big overarching statistic there, buddy. There was nothing wrong with the way that _I_ ate. We only ever got takeout once a week. Everything else I cooked fresh at home.”

“Yeah. In about three feet of oil and chicken fat from the sounds of things.” He not quite whispered off to the side.

I flicked soapy water at him. “It’s not chicken _fat,_ it’s like a crumb and egg and seasoning that’s most typically used on chicken before it’s fried up. And I _never_ deep fried food at home, shithead. I just got a good hankering for it when I was pregnant.”

Hancock’s brows perked up high into the ridges of his forehead. “Fuck almighty. You must have gotten even bigger than you did at _Cragenshore. Hard as that is to believe.._.”

I made a show of throwing my hands down and pretending to pick up the bucket; as though fully intending to pitch the entire thing onto his head. When we were both done laughing at this empty threat, I set myself back down and resumed my scrubbing of our particulars.

“You are being a right darn bully today, Mr Mayor.” I growled at him, rousing yet another laugh. “And like _you_ are in any position to judge others for their supposedly unhealthy habits. _Chem-head_.”

“Aww… gonna squirt some, Munch?” He chuckled, reaching over to poke and prod at my arm in a deliberate attempt to irritate me. I battered his hand away for the first few efforts before finally doing my lolly and flying up onto my feet. Because he still had a hold of his cigarette and his legs were no doubt giving him shit, he wasn’t able to get away in time and I launched myself on top of him like an angry Yao Guai. He put up a fight, as was his standard, trying to beat back my arms as I pinned him to the floor, dropping my knees down on either side of his waist. He had good reason to be fighting as well; I held a pair of my sopping wet, still predominately unscrubbed underthings in my hand and I was attempting to squeeze the contents onto his face.

“That is fucking _rank_ Munch, get outta it!” He yelled, clenching his eyes shut as tight as he could whilst making counter intuitive ‘patooey-patooey’ noises with his lips. I laughed victoriously as I squeezed a nice big puddle of soapy water right into the crook of his neck.

“Now _who_ can’t handle gettin’ picked on?!” I jeered, my own confidant tone pitching into a surprised shriek as Hancock’s flailing hand attempted to push me back and managed to land on my left breast. I could tell it had been accidental, because his hand flinched back just as quickly as it had made ground in the first instance but it was more than enough to throw me off of my game completely and award Hancock the upper (ahem) hand. He managed to twist his legs up, hook them over in front of my neck and then cross them at the ankle. With a hard, angry rock he then pitched himself forward at the waist, using his legs to push me down so that _my_ spine was now pressed into the floorboards.

“Sister… you reckon as a single child you’d get one up on _me_?” He puffed, as I glared indignantly from between his boots. “I grew up the youngest child in a family where _McDonough_ was the oldest. You ain’t got _nothin’_ on the shit _I_ had to put up with.”

I grumbled and made a light hearted attempt to pitch the knickers at his face. It was enough of a distraction to foist _my_ legs into the air and I snapped them together over his shoulders; pinning his neck between my shins. Having managed to dodge the wet delicates, Hancock gave me a coy look as  he stubbed the cigarette out and used his now freed hands to grasp my ankles.

“You gettin’ fresh with _me_ now, Munch?” He queried suggestively, eyebrows dancing around on his forehead like an irritated Irishman. I grunted as I squeezed my shins tighter to his neck.

“You wish. Just trying to cut your throat with my hairy legs.” I grunted, rubbing my legs back and forth as though attempting to slice into his flesh with them. I’d been wearing shorts for the most recent stretch of the journey and though I’d been just self-conscious enough to keep my pins fairly well shaved, I’d hardly been _religious_ with the efforts.

The comment naturally set Hancock to laughing and I used the distraction to tighten my core and force my legs hard against his shoulders. I started pushing him back towards the floor, hoping that the effort would cause him to ease up on his own grip about my head but his legs didn’t lax in the slightest. We both ended up on our backs, on the floor with our heads pinched between each of our respective legs.

Hancock was strong to be certain but I was plenty buff as well, so neither of us was granted an edge based on strength. Not to mention we were investing far too much energy in laughing at one another to make a concerted effort to escape.

“Can you just _imagine_ what your proud constituents would be thinking right about now?” I chuckled, my lips forced into a duck like pucker from the way that his boots pressed down on each of my cheeks. I felt the cords in his neck tighten beneath my feet as he heaved out another little laugh of his own.

“Probably thinkin’ I’m the damn luckiest son of a bitch alive.” He said and I wondered if I might have tanned the leather in his boots from the blush this comment immediately sent to my cheeks. I quickly crossed my legs over, mirroring his own little trap and squashed his face between my bare feet.

“Hey. We’re not naked and wrestling in mud, buddy.” I scolded, rubbing my feet back and forth across his cheeks, grinning to hear his disgusted moans in response. “Shouldn’t be mucking around like this in the first place. Not right after eating. Far too strenuous. We’ll get a stitch.”

“You sure know how to live dangerously, Munch.” Hancock said sarcastically, clasping both hands around my feet. Seconds too late I realized what he was doing and then I was bucking and squealing, pleading for mercy as his fingers danced across the bare bottoms of my feet. He held one tight about the ankle, foregoing the other in favour of pinning this one under his arm and scrabbling at it mercilessly. I could have given him a good kick to free myself but it would have actually hurt him and I didn’t want to do that. So I went right for his Achilles tendon and started scratching at his back through the thin wall of his shirt.

He immediately went limp and surrendered control of my foot, allowing me to scrabble away to safety. He emitted a sort of groan-sob and tipped back onto the floor, the peak of his hat slanting down to near cover his, no doubt, disappointed expression.

“That’s cruel, Munch. Forcin’ a guy to finish himself off.” He made a point of wriggling from side to side on the floor; like Dogmeat did when he had an itchy back or was trying to dry himself on a rug. I laughed as I picked up the wet knickers from the floor and carried them back over to the bucket.

“What can I say? I _always_ like to leave a fella wanting more.” I said, giving him a little wink as I plonked myself down and returned the knickers to the cool frothy water. Hancock eased himself back to the overturned locker he had been resting on before and took up his Bourban for another sip. He peered down as my fingers mauled and kneaded the assorted undergarments beneath the sudsy surface of sloshing liquid.

“Sure that’s okay? You mixing in all your pretty delicates with _my_ grubby underthings?” He said and I snorted a little, amused that he could concern himself with something like this. Since Hancock had deigned to wearing boxers whilst travelling the Commonwealth, I managed to convince him to hand over the few sets that required washing (always a struggle with blokes, I swear) and I had thrown them indiscriminately into the mix with my own panties. It hadn’t concerned me in the least, considering that I used to wash all mine and Nate’s underpants together but I suppose Hancock wasn’t the type of guy to let a girl stick around long enough to comingle their ‘delicates’.

“Well… so long as you haven’t soiled any of them. I know that’s a problem with you old men sometimes.” This roused an unimpressed snort from him and a ‘Good on ya’. “And none of mine are messy from my… time of the month. I tend to wash those right away, anyhow.” He now looked a little embarrassed by the mention of my biorhythms, so I quickly moved the conversation along. “Besides… you and I have already shared enough between us in our travels. Saliva, sweat, tears. You’ve even had my blood. And I’ve had yours. Remember?”

Judging from the look on his face, it seemed as though he had only just done so. Not that he seemed disgusted by it. More... intrigued than anything.

 “You know I kinda forgot about all that.” He mused, perched on the side of a capsized filing cabinet as I continued to massage the big mess of undergarments by hand. “Guess that sorta makes you and I… blood brothers? Blood brother and sister?” The apex of his nasal cavity crinkled; his typical sign for expressing distaste as he leaned back and took another measured sip from his glass. “Actually, scrap that. You’re the last person I’d want as a sister.”

I chuckled as I plucked up one of my pairs of knickers and pressed the crotch of the material between my knuckles; scrubbing it back and forth against itself. “I’ll try not to take that as an insult, my lover.”

“It’s a compliment. Any fool with half a brain ain’t gonna wanna look at his sister in the biblical sense.”

My heart stirred a little and I glanced over at him with a small smile. I tried not to let the feelings that I had been tentatively nursing for the past couple of months show. Not when they were still… metaphorical fledglings, as it were.

“I don’t know. Might have made things a lot less awkward when that Stingwing… well, you know.”

He laughed at this; rocking back a bit before setting the lip of the cup between his lips again. “At least I didn’t go to pieces like poor fucking Mac. It was like, what? Two weeks before he could look you in the eye again.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “Don’t say _eye_. It’s probably because he got a glimpse of my ‘other’ eye that he was so embarrassed to begin with.”

“Now Munch, don’t you start being vulgar. We’re in a Church for fucks sake.” He gave me an ironic wink as he foisted himself up off of the chest of drawers and made his way closer to plonk beside me. He used to proximity to pluck up my wine filled cup from beside me; which he sniffed before taking a sip. God knows why he fancied a sip of it when he had his own drink. Just wanted to annoy me, most likely. “Hey and thanks for whacking together dinner again, chicken. Bet the others are missing your cooking right about now.”

I snorted a little as I dropped the panties I was in the midst of cleaning and reached out to snatch my cup back off of him. “I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with anyone else’s cooking. They might have had a chance to show their own skills off if I wasn’t such a control freak around the campfire.” I took a sip from my wine; rolling my tongue a little to circulate the flavor (such as it was) before swallowing it back. “But anyway, you’re welcome. I like to see a man big and fat and happy.”

“And I’m well on my way.” He said, smacking the palm of his hand to his stomach before tipping his head back and tossing down the last little pinch of Bourbon in his glass. He splashed in a fresh serving from the bottle nearby before struggling up onto his feet and leaned down to snag the strap on his duffle bag. “Anyhow, I’d best be going and getting myself sorted before food coma sets in. I swear, you keep feeding me this well Munch and I’m gonna have a hard time letting you go after all this adventuring is done.”

It made me blush again, though I was quite accustomed to his compliments by this stage and I knew quite well that it wasn’t in his nature to censor things. Lately however, these sorts of statements were starting to hit me harder than they might have previously done. I tried to detract from this as much as possible by keeping the content of our conversation light hearted.

“Well, if the Statehouse ever needs a cook and a bouncer all rolled into one package; I’m your girl.” I said, slurping from my wine again before placing it down beside my knee. “Hey, you needing a magazine for your, ah… ‘alone time’?”

He snorted sarcastically. “Please. I’m not Mac, you know. Doesn’t take me half an hour to pinch a loaf like he does.”

I bust for laughing at this. “And here’s _you_ telling _me_ not to be vulgar! But I know what you mean. I’ve never known anyone to take as long on the can as he does. Or, you know, hovering over a hole in the ground.”

Hancock flashed a wink in my direction. “Maybe we shoulda kept a stock of that canned meat, huh? Anyway, won’t be long. I’ll find a spot to rig up the camp bladder. Got a few hours of daylight left; might get it warm enough for a bit of a splash in the morning. Need to wash off all that gunk you rubbed on my face with your dirty fucking Blight feet.”

I fluttered my eyelashes at him. “Oh, you mustn’t pretend as though you didn’t enjoy it, my darling.” I said, laughing as he wrinkled back his upper lip in a classic expression of ‘ _Um, no’._ “Seriously, just keep your eyes peeled. If you run into trouble, just fire off a shot. Of your… _gun_ that is.”

He groaned at me. “I think I could have figured out _that_ much, Munch – thankyou! Jesus, all this lack of sleep is turning you into a right proper grot. And here I’ve been misleading folks by tellin’ ‘em how classy you are.”

“Which I am.” I said, lifting my wine glass and tipping it up to my mouth in a deliberately un-classy gesture. Hancock chuckled appreciatively and made a brief two fingered salute in my direction as he hoisted his duffle over his shoulder. My eyes drifted down from my wine glass to watch the tight swish of his compact little bottom as he made his way for the stairwell; easier to appreciate, since the weather was still too warm for him to don his coat again.

Hancock and I didn’t separate much during our travels but there were of course the expected divergences. Namely, toilet and shower breaks. Or in my case, toilet, shower and… feminine hygiene breaks. But every once in a while Hancock liked to take himself away to shoot up. He knew I wasn’t a fan of the sharps, or of intravenous drug use for that matter and as such, tried to be respectful and keep it out of sight. I didn’t preach to him about it because it quite honestly wasn’t a regular occurrence and the pacifying Med-X was his needle of choice as opposed to Psycho. Thank God because it was hard enough watching Cait struggle with that puerile nasty and yucky shit, let along John.

And it wasn’t that I judged so much as had a needle phobia and couldn’t handle watching anyone injecting. Even into the ass or bicep, which was the standard for Med-X (I’d genuinely come close to fainting when I caught Cait pumping Psycho into her inside arm; right into the vein. Eyuck).

I watched John negotiate his way back down the stairwell, doing his utmost not to disturb the carefully orchestrated defence system he had set up. I could see the shifting of his muscles beneath his shirt as he moved and the flex of his long legs as he manoeuvred carefully over the trip wires. It was nice to watch someone so perfectly trim and toned go about their business. I had a special appreciation for musculature, given my own strength and martial arts training and Hancock was such a lithe yet robust specimen. Jesus, he must have been fucking catnip to the girls when he’d been a Smoothskin. Still so delicious to observe even in his current condition.

I noticed that I’d been feeling a lot more physically attracted to Hancock in the past few months. Since our run in with the brats in Diamond City, I’d found myself firmly switched on to him as a man and drawn to him in a way that, quite rightly, wasn’t entirely suited for ‘blood siblings’. It had been further exacerbated in every incident we had gone through since; particularly the Rolling Ranch and the run in with the Ghouls at Wanderer’s Respite. Not only was I coming to care for him more and more with each passing day but I was systematically finding myself attracted to him physically. Once upon a time I had found it awkward and hadn’t known where to look when it came to his body. Now, I knew almost every bare inch of him. And enjoyed it, at that. I liked that he felt relaxed enough around me to shrug off his clothes when needed. Not to mention that it gave me the opportunity to study his body; observe how the muscles still ran hard and firm beneath the scarred skin. How they flexed and tightened without his ever attempting to show them off; they roiled as naturally as a jungle cat, slinking about with a mind to shortly thereafter pounce on their prey.

It seemed obvious as well that he found something to be enjoyed in my appearance. If the look on his face as he stared at me in Wanderer’s Respite was anything to go on. I mused on this a little longer as I finished up with the underpants and slipped back firmly onto my bottom; the cup of wine clenched tight to my fist.

We had grown as close as a person might otherwise expect from their shadow. And I do think that Hancock was keen to expand, nay _embellish_ upon this closeness should I be so inclined as to permit him his indulgences. In some ways, it seemed almost inevitable that something would transpire between us. Hell, it had almost happened a few times. Every night I lay there with my heart thumping madly, convinced that he might go ahead and make his move at any god given moment. Until the very moment my eyes shut and sleep secreted me away.

It didn’t seem a matter of ‘if’ now, so much as ‘when’. But at that time I still wasn’t certain just how prepared I was to accept another man’s attentions. Of course, if I’d had any idea just how much John was in love with me, I might not have had the strength to resist him. Ah, if he’d only known that an upfront declaration was all that would be needed to shake loose the crumbling seams that held together the walls of my resistance!

While the underpants marinated, I distracted myself for a while by running some thread through the splits in Hancock’s coat. I’d happened across some red cotton in one of the Warehouses we’d explored during our travels and it did a fine job of blending in with the color already predominant in the fabric. He never concerned himself with such matters of course, preferring to pass along his clothing to Meaghan when he was in Goodneighbor for whatever repairs were required but the poor garment was looking increasingly threadbare from the bashing it had received in our adventures. I was hardly what you would call a confidant seamstress as well but I’d been forced to learn a little here and there when I went out hunting with my father and his chums on the Reserve. My mother and I spent many a time poking some thread and needle through his various manhandled shirts; torn and snagged from interring himself within the trees of the sparse North Dakota woodland. For a man that was over fifty percent Native American, he sure wasn’t delicate when it came to roughing it.

Once I was satisfied with the work I had done on Hancock’s coat, I set it aside and polished off the last of my wine. After pouring out another helping for myself, I finished cleaning up the underpants and draped them over a fishing line I’d strung between two divots in the wall; hoping they would dry overnight. They looked so funny up there; mine and Hancock’s mismatched underpants swaying slightly against the ever present pull of gravity. His sensible black boxer-briefs, my even more sensible boy-leg style panties – most of which were boring old white. I only had one ‘kind of’ sexy pair of unmentionables and I only wore those when I got down to the last of my more… appropriate sets. They were a ‘Meaghan Scalice’ creation; black, cut just that little higher on the old butt cheeks than my comfortable standard boy leg and rimmed by matching lace. These weren’t hanging up on the fishing wire because circumstances had forced them astride my hips that day; namely having dwindled my five other pairs of knickers down. They made me shift from side to side a little; because they rode up my crack. I’d tried to explain to Meaghan that a big old ass like mine would just eat the fucking things alive but she insisted I needed at least _something_ that wasn’t screaming ‘Grandma Florence’, as she put it. God only knows why she took the time. Wasn’t like I was planning on anyone seeing them.

I did a quick stock of our rations before counting out our ammo and placing my Magnum aside for Hancock to check and clean for me later. He was a much more practiced hand at me than this and he got pissy if I didn’t trust him with at least a couple of things to do. I think he could often tell the subtle difference between my desire to nurture and my seeming desire to control just about everything within arm’s reach. I suppose it broached the point of being overbearing but it came quite honestly from a good place; to try and spare others of work.

I lit up a cigarette and whittled it down whilst waiting for Hancock to return. In spite of his earlier assurances that he didn’t take long to have a shit, he’d sure been a while. I hadn’t heard anything from downstairs but this didn’t necessarily mean that something hadn’t gone wrong. There are some sneaky ass mother fuckers out there that could get the drop on even someone as observant as Hancock. And if he’d been shooting up and gotten a bad dose of Med-X or something…

I sighed, stubbing out the cigarette and pushing my cup of wine off to the side. I picked up the heavy old Magnum from the floor and loaded the chambers with the .44 ammunition before spinning the cylinder into place and knocking back the safety. I’d feel awful silly if I went downstairs in full rescue mode only to find that he was experiencing a Spartan bout of constipation. Still, better safe than sorry.

I picked my way around the trip wires and chimes and inched down the stairs; gun held tight between both hands to maximize accuracy. By the time I was three quarters of the way down, I had already spotted Hancock. He was sitting just offside of the doorway, in the small window of light that remained of the afternoon sun, with his duffle bag resting on the floor beside him. His legs were crossed and he seemed to be concentrating on something in his left hand. His right was occupied in a strange swooping, diving motion towards it and I could see the corner of his tongue poking out, such as he did when concentrating.

“Is everything okay?” I called out, not wanting to startle him by creeping up too close. His head jerked up immediately and he sighed, looking slightly irritated by my presence. But in a… somehow cheerful way.

“Dammit all Munch, I’ve been trying to keep this on the sly.” He said, giving me a crooked smile as I took the safety off of the gun and trotted closer. My eyesight wasn’t great but I could see that the object in his lap was something… furry.

“Didn’t mean to bother you during ‘alone time’, darl. You were just taking so long I started to worry something had gone wrong.” I wrinkled my nose at the thing in his hands. “Please tell me you haven’t gone and adopted some animal you’ve found wandering about outside. I’d be in such trouble with Dogmeat if he knew I’d been out tarting around with other beasties.”

Hancock chuckled and shook his head. “Apart from _me,_ you mean? Nah, been working on this here little fella in my spare time.” He lifted the object out of his lap and I saw that it was a teddy bear. A teddy bear in _much_ better condition than any I had seen in the Wasteland thus far; with nice clean fur and plump like a stuffed chook. The strange movement I had observed Hancock making was him restitching the nose; which had been originally composed of a triangle of threads just above the bear’s sweet, looping smile.

I perched myself next to Hancock and watched as he worked the needle back through the nose; adding another layer of thick brown string. He didn’t make eye contact and I wondered if he might have been a little embarrassed to be caught at something sentimental like this. At length, he said;

“I ain’t no dab hand at sewing or nothin’ but… I take my time to try and make it as good as can be, you know?” He used a pair of scissors he had resting nearby to snip the last of the thread and did his utmost then to tie the trailing end up. “Had me a bear just like this when I was a wee nipper. Mr Tum-Puff.”

I snorted at this, resisting the urge to reach over and tie off that last little bit of thread that Hancock’s poor aching fingers were struggling with. “Mr Tum-Puff?”

“Yep. Sir was quite the gentleman bear.” Hancock chuckled, glancing up at me with a cheeky smile before returning his attention to the bears nose. “I called him Mr Tum-Puff because the fabric on his stomach was pretty ratty and all the stuffing started poking out. He was one of McDonough’s old hand me downs. Only legacy he ever left me that I actually appreciated.” Hancock managed to tie off the thread on the nose and he brushed the bear off gently; appearing satisfied by his efforts. “Got this little guy here off of one of the traders a while back. He was in such good nick I thought I’d rescue him and do ‘im up. Thought you might… um… make a gift of him. You know, to your wee boy once you get him back. Here.”

He handed me the bear and I took it gently; turning its squat, plump little body about in my hands. I could see where Hancock had stitched him up in a number of places and even where he’d restitched part of his ear. He was in very good condition and I felt a little teary to think of how considerate Hancock had been in taking the time to do something like this. For Shaun _and_ for me. He knew that I’d made it a bit of a habit to accumulate some toys here and there and do them up with a bit of paint or whatever elbow grease was required. I kept them all in the small shack I made use of at Spectacle Island; intending to at least have _something_ for Shaun to play with after I’d rescued him from the Institute.

But of course, John couldn’t even begin to understand just how… unsettling the gesture was in turn. Just before the bombs had fallen, I’d plucked up Shaun’s teddy bear from the floor of his room and set him off to the side. The bear had been a gift from my father; a man who Hancock reminded me of in so many of his personality traits. It was systematically jarring for him to present me with a gift that echoed the very same one that my father had bequeathed upon Shaun – back before the entire world had been obliterated in the scorching hate and fear of our Great Nations. I used my finger to wipe at the underside of my eye, mentally reproaching my desire to succumb to emotion once more. He would start to lose respect for me if I gave in to tears all the goddamned time.

“John… that’s so thoughtful. Thankyou so much.” I leaned over to press a kiss to Hancock’s blemished cheek. The characteristic curve of his smile said that he was well pleased with himself. “Jesus… it reminds me so much of the one Daddy brought for Shaun back… well, when he was still just a baby.”

“Did _that_ bear have a name?” Hancock asked as he took out his pouch of Chark and tobacco from the pocket of his pants.

I felt my own lip quirk up. “Mr Bear.”

Hancock chuckled. “How creative.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Not nearly as witty as the Good Sir Mr Tum-Puff.” I shot back as I ran my fingers through the tufted plume of hair atop the teddies head. He stared back with those black button eyes and I laughed at the immediate comparison that came to mind. “I think I’m gonna have to call this one John-Bear. With the exception of the hair, he’s a dead ringer for you.”

Hancock pulled a face that was not at all cute and teddy bear like. “Are you for fucking real? What kind of sick twisted children’s toy company would go and make a teddy bear that looked like a goddamned _Ghoul_? There’d be a recall before the bears’ asses so much as touched the store shelves.”

I shrugged as I tapped the teddy bears face against Hancock’s cheek; as though it were giving him a kiss. “I don’t know, John. Jesus, it’s just something about the big black eyes, the squashed in little face and the cute smile.” I reached over and used my thumb and index finger to push up the corners of Hancock’s mouth. It was a testament to our trust in each other that he permitted me to get away with this, because he clearly did _not_ want to have any part in smiling right then. “Whenever you’re happy… or, high or whatever, you always have this lovely, peaceful smile on your face. For whatever reason, it’s always just reminded me of a widdle teddy bear.”

He tilted his head towards me, still not moving to knock my hand away from his mouth. “Right… Do me a favor Munch and _never_ spread that shit around. Running Goodneighbor is hard enough as it is without all the citizens comparing me to a goddamned teddy bear.”

I chuckled and petted the side of his cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll only call you that in private.” I held the bear now under both chunky arms and tilted him from side to side as Hancock crooked his leg up in front of himself and started rolling together a joint. Despite the fact that he was acting the grouch with me, I think he was very pleased with himself for the work he had done. “Fancy John Hancock being a secret haberdasher!” I mused. “And here’s been little old _me_ stitching up your clothes whenever they’ve gotten damaged.”

“Hey. Not like I ever asked you to go and do that.” Hancock said, shooting me a small smile as he slipped a filter into the line of his rollie. “And I ain’t no goddamn ‘haberdasher’. Had no idea what the fuck I was doing. Just stubborn enough to keep cracking away at it.”

“Well, you did an amazing job. And Shaun is going to love it.” I laughed and gave one slow wink of my eye. “And if he doesn’t, you can be damn sure his mama will love it. I’ll sleep with it every goddamned night until then.”

Hancock laughed as he licked the edges of the rollie and stuck them together. “Well, at least _John-Bear’s_ getting some action.” He put the joint between his lips, lit up the end and took a big deep drag of it before holding it out to me. “Need a fix?”

I thought on it briefly before curling my shoulders up and taking the offered rollie. “Fuck it. Might get me a half decent nights’ sleep.”

I shuffled to Hancock’s side, John-Bear tucked under my arm and slipped the end of the rollie between my lips. I pressed down on the column of the filter and sucked in a long deep hit of the smoke. As it filled my lungs, I fancied I could feel the comforting fog start drifting in from the far reaches of my mind, to give softness to the sharp edges of my anxieties. Hancock watched me, cheek pressed to the curve of his fist as I held the smoke in the deep caverns of my body before slowly relinquishing it to the dust peppered air of the Church.

“You know, I love watching you get high.” He murmured, smiling as I drifted my head back slowly to rest against the wall behind me. I gazed at him, all the drowsier for the Chemical fumes that were currently having their way with my all too compliant brain cells.

“Why is that?” I chuckled, passing the blunt back to him. He took it back between his thumb and index finger, twisting the filter back to his lips with the precision of a magician expertly bending his wrist about in preparation of his next trick.

“Because it’s the only time that you look really, _truly_ free.” He replied, his voice never so much as lifting from that soft, mawkish tone he had affected. He took another drag in himself and allowed the smoke to drift slowly out from his lungs, leaking from his nasal cavity in snake like tendrils. “It’s like… the only time you feel safe to let your walls come down a bit. Because ya know the good feelin’s of the Chark are gonna protect ya. That’s when the real Eve Hallows comes out.”

“Yeah. The real _stoned_ Eve Hallows.” I chortled, snorting with laughter as I took the joint back off of him. I found I was able to cope with the hit from them a lot easier than before; having had plenty of opportunity to practice thanks to Hancock. Boy oh boy, Nate would have been spinning in his grave to see me now.

“Ya shouldn’t laugh.” Hancock said, though the Chark made it near to impossible for either of us not to succumb to giggles. He himself was attempting to keep a straight face. “Here I am, tryin’ ta be serious with ya and ya start hyuck-hyucking at me. Ya know what. Fine forget it. See if I ever share the intricacies of my thoughts with you _ever_ again.”

“John Hancock’s ‘Mental Intricacies’… What a tell all _that_ would be.” I teased, easing out my last interred lungful of smoke before passing the joint back. “Sorry, darl. Guess I’m just one of those ‘silly’ stoned people. As opposed to the deep and meaningful, paranoid sort.”

We were quiet for a while then, with Hancock polishing off the last of the joint before stubbing it out. A question came to mind; one that I had been meaning to ask for the longest time. Perhaps not the most evocative of queries but something I had been chewing over all the same.

“Hey… why is it that you and the guys in the Neighborhood Watch call me Munch?”

Hancock glanced over at me with a small smile as he picked up his glass and took a sip from it. “Right… I never _did_ tell you the story behind that, did I? You just kind of… graciously accepted the nickname without protest.”

I shrugged. “Well, I was kind of operating under the assumption that it was short for ‘Munchkin’. Because I waddle funny when I walk. I don’t know. I mean you _have_ called me Munchkin before.”

“Just kind of naturally rolls on from Munch, you see.” He flicked the filter of the rollie out the window and leaned his wrist on the crook of his knee. “The nickname ‘Munch’ is derived from the term ‘Muncher’. It’s a regional word; Goodneighbor specific. Been around longer than I lived in the town. I know, because the pricks there referred to me as ‘Muncher’ when I first moved in.”

I sucked a breath in through my front teeth. “Oh my… I’m starting to get the impression it might not be flattering then.”

His expression said he didn’t agree. “Eh… wouldn’t say _that_ , exactly. It’s a term used for a…” He waved his hand from side to side, lips flexing together as though working hard to alight upon the least offensive phrasing. “Kind of… green, dopy person that we’re not sure is gonna survive in the town for very long. A person the ‘ _town’s gonna eat alive’_ or who’s gonna get ‘ _munched_ _up’_ by the town. When you first came through, everyone thought you were so sweet and innocent that you wouldn’t last five minutes before you got ‘eaten up’. But then you went ahead and proved everyone wrong after that night in the Third Rail-” I glanced off to the side, not feeling especially proud of the instance he was referring to. “But by then, we’d all just gotten used to referring to you as ‘Munch’. Myself included. Sounded kinda… endearing. So it… well, it stuck. And now you’re the only one to wear the crown.”

I think Hancock was under the assumption that I would be genuinely offended by this story and whilst it wasn’t exactly the most flattering of things to find out, it was far from the worst.

“Oh great. So it’s kind of like being the village idiot.” I said, flashing him a smile to show that I wasn’t genuinely upset by the comparison. Hancock waved his hand congenially in my direction.

“No, it’s not a reference to anyone being _stupid_. It’s usually a reference to… nice people.” And by _nice_ he meant _soft_ , of course _._ “Goodneighbor’s a town with a hell of a sweet tooth. It usually devours those sorts of people in a heartbeat.”

Now wasn’t _that_ the truth. But I didn’t want Hancock to know of what had happened to me my first night in his ravenous town, so I simply offered up another shrug. “Well, being a lawyer I’ve _definitely_ been called worse in my time. Kind of gotten fond of the name anyway. I just hope I’ve done enough to prove that I’m not the innocent little sweetie dearie darling you all thought I was back then.”

He snorted at me, the lean of his lips indicating that he was clearly now in the mood to tease. “Oh please, you’re still a mook.”

“How dare you.”

“You take one puff from a rollie and you’re like –” He placed his fingers against his lips, hunched his shoulders in and made giggling raspberry noises against his hand; emulating a high pitched girly voice. ‘“ _I’m doing hard drugs_!”’

“Well, it’s hard compared to what I used to do!” I said, near spluttering my protest. Hancock gave a condescending sigh and shook his head in that slow, irritating way people have when they simply refuse to believe what you are saying.

“Awww… Munch.” He leaned across to cluck his fingers to the scar in my chin. “Have I just gone and burst your bubble? Were you actually living under the illusion that you _had_ gotten rebellious at some stage? Poor baby.”

I smacked his shin with the side of my boot. “Oh fuck you! Just because _you_ don’t have any boundaries and you’ve smoked, snorted, injected, drank and fucked everything you’ve ever come across!”

“Codswollop. I haven’t done any of that shit to _you_.”

“And you never will.” I retorted, wondering even as I said it whether I would have to end up eating my hat later. As it was, I felt a little bad for saying it in the first place. As though I was suggesting that he wasn’t worth fucking. Or… ingesting or whatever. “Not if you keep on tormenting the way you have been. I’m not sure where you got your lessons on how to treat a lady but it might do you well to know that the ‘treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen’ approach went out _years_ ago.”

“Shame. I was always a fan of the old pigtail yank.” Hancock chuckled, reaching over and tugging at the hair on the left side of my face; which was always cut perpetually longer than the strands on the right. I went to swat at him but pulled my hand back, having taking stock of the rapid change of expression on his face. It was a pure contradiction in practice; from the forehead down, he appeared peaceful and almost differential. The twist of his lips however, lent credence to an entirely separate emotion; that of trepidation and perhaps… hesitancy?

“Can I… uh, ask you a tough question, dear?” He said, to which I instantly felt the humor drain from my body. It wasn’t at all often that Hancock referred to _anyone_ as ‘dear’. I think he knew that it made him sound his age and it somewhat illuminated the difference in years between us. Made him sound more like a benevolent father figure than a prospective lover.

To say it at all suggested that he was doing his utmost to be tender towards me. Because what he was intending to ask was likely to upset me. I felt that nasty cold worm of fear gnaw through the soft, comforting cloud of Chark and fix its pincers to the calcified barriers I’d long since erected about my broken heart. On the surface, I did my utmost to pretend as though I didn’t feel the sting of its pitiless little teeth and foisted a smile upon my lips instead. 

“If you mean to ask for my hand Mr Mayor, I would expect nothing less but for you to climb to your feet and drop to one knee. Get those dapper pants of yours dirty.” I teased, meaning to sand the seriousness off of the encroaching topic. I think this attempt at humor might have inadvertently embarrassed Hancock however, because his lips rehabilitated themselves into a long straight and conservative line. It was near impossible to see a blush appear on a Ghoul’s skin but there were other gestures Hancock made which indicated that he was flustered. Because he was such a confident man, he rarely shied from making eye contact, and so, turning his gaze away and bringing his lips tightly together was his means of expressing embarrassment.

“Pick a nicer spot than _this_ if _that’s_ where I’d been headin’ with it…” He muttered and before I could pounce on him to further expand on his meaning here, added: “What I was _going_ to ask, ya silly nointer, is… um…” He still didn’t look at me but focused instead on the hand he held draped across the curve of his knee; like a listless cat curled upon a radiator grill. His thumb and index finger rubbed lightly together, as though testing the texture of a stray thought. “Back at the… uh… _that_ place…”

That gnawing worm nudged loose a thick stone from those rigid walls about my heart and it swung out of orbit with enough velocity to lodge firmly in the base of my throat. Of course it would _have_ to concern the Ranch. All rivers of despair ran downhill to meet at that evil, rancorous ocean. Was there to exist a second of our lives that would _not_ be somehow forever stained by that black ichor? That… _poison_ which had all but been injected into our souls with the propensity of a degenerative disease?

Hancock must have glanced up and seen the tremulous sheen slide across my eyes, because he reached across and wrapped his fingers about mine.

“Sorry.” He said, as his thumb rode the dips and ridges of my crooked and still healing knuckles. “We don’t gotta talk about it.”

“No. Not it’s okay.” I said, firmly batting my eyes in order to rid them of that obsolete baggage. I placed _John-Bear_ down beside me and brought my hand over to cup to the top of Hancock’s. I made an extra concerted effort to smile as convincingly as possible. “If there’s something that needs answering my darling, then you must ask the question. Don’t worry.” I shoved my thumb confidently into the wall of my chest. “This old Muncher can take it.”

He was able to smile at _this_ , at least. “Heh. Starting to think I should never have told you that.” He brought his remaining hand now to press to the top of mine and we sat there; our palms piled atop one another’s like hotcakes on a saucer. “It’s somethin’ that’s been… eatin’ away at the base of my guts. Ever since that time. All those… _times_ when… those bastards took you away…” One of his hands squeezed me. “The first… that was… it _was…_ ”

Something happened then; something I had never seen before in that long year of travelling at Hancock’s side. He turned away from me; his lips twisted miserably and his dark eyes narrowed to slits. The edges then collapsed in upon themselves and every crease and crevice in Hancock’s worn, damaged face flinched so tightly towards the centre, you might have thought they had been magnetically drawn inward. He was being battered from within, by a searing merciless wave of pain and struggling madly to keep his head above the surface. He failed. And that wave all too quickly made short work of drowning him.

Tears squeezed from his eyes as his throat expunged ragged sobs; so helpless and utterly useless in their truest base context. He pressed his fingers against his brow, creating a sort of veil to shield his emotions.

“I’m sorry…” He said eventually, seeming all the more ashamed for the fact that I had started to rub his arm with my now freed hand. I wanted to wipe away my own tears because seeing him break down, certainly hadn’t helped _me_ preserve strength enough to keep my emotions intact. “I’ve been… thinkin’ about it, _every damn day_. It was, bar _none_ , the worst moment of my entire fucking life. Hearing you… screaming. Crying – p-pleading… And not being able to get to you. To hold you, protect you. Stop them from _hurting_ you…”

I remembered it well. How could I possibly forget? Having been the one to directly endure it. Those disgusting animals… they’d taken me far, _far_ from the cell, as punishment for my audacity in standing up to them. To keep on fighting and refuse to give in or simper to their scare tactics and threats. Hancock had been the same of course; neither of us having given so much as an inch of quarter in spite of our fear and the fear of the others who had been entrapped alongside us.

They’d wanted to punish us both. They had tested all of us; to see who among us was emotionally connected and it served them well to discover that the two most insolent of the lot, were the most intrinsically connected to one another.

Women were prized more as commodities in their world, so it suited them to break me down first. Taking me to that… room. They must have piped my screaming back into the cell for the others to hear. Despite how loud I had been, there was no reasonable way that the noise could have travelled that far. It had been very deliberate. They had wanted the others to suffer as well. Especially Hancock.

I watched in the days dying light as John’s eyes drifted towards the Church’s decaying ceiling; his lower jaw falling open in reference to the misery he had retained from that time.

“I keep thinkin’… I shoulda- I _damn_ well should’ve tried _more._ ” His hand dropped down from his face, formed a fist and he slammed the floor. His knuckles shed their flesh in the following aggrieved strike and I winced to think of how they must have been hurting.

“Don’t, darling. Please _don’t_ …” I begged, wrapping my fingers about his wrist to prevent him from further harming himself. But he acted as though he hadn’t heard me.

“Just about pulled the ceiling down on the lot of us. Tried to yank those goddamned shackles off. Tried to break my wrists and squeeze ‘em out. I… I even tried to… I tried to _deglove_ my hands Eve. Anythin’ to get loose.” He twisted his arms over, showing me the inside of his wrists where he now retained scars that were not unlike those of someone who had been attempting to take their own life. Where stitches had been placed after skin had been stretched back over what had once been bare and bloody. “I promise, I… I didn’t just hang there useless like an old shirt, sweetheart… I fucking _promise…_ ”

He sounded so sad and hateful; as though he truly thought that for a _second_ I could have believed that he had failed me in some way. I drew my arm around his shoulder, pulling close to his side and sliding my fingers down between his. I wanted to hug the pain from his body; squeeze it out with all the pounding compassion that resonated through me like the ancient drums of my people.

“I could hear…” He murmured, with a voice logged down by the weight of pure undiluted anguish. “They made you cry. And scream… they made you- they made you _choke._ I don’t know half of what they did-”

“It would only hurt you the more to know.” I assured him, attempting all the while to block out the memory of that time as much as I possibly could. Snippets still managed to leak through like daylight pinpricking through a dark canvas. The _Auction Room_ … my clothes torn and ripped away in pieces. Cajoling voices eagerly hurling out wicked and progressively perverted suggestions with monetary assurances following shortly thereafter. The commentators oddly chipper, game show host voice calling out through the darkness; _‘Oh, you can do better than_ that, _sir!’ ‘You’re not going to let_ him _have all the fun are you?’ ‘For five hundred caps more, one lucky haggler will unlock these little beauties! Imagine the fun you could have with those!’_

Every pinch, slap, punch, tear, wrench, kick, slice, stab and penetration… I felt them all bear down on me once more. I thought I would have died hanging there in that room; bleeding and crying for the wicked pleasures of those shadowed, unseen and godless spectators.

“Think I got too good an idea anyhow…” Hancock murmured and I flinched myself to realize that one of my own tormentors had no doubt told him in detail of my ordeal. Just another means to make him suffer. “But Eve… please just… tell me one thing.” He clenched my hand tighter and looked me in the eyes. “Did any of those bastards… did they rape you?” He turned to face me more completely; twisting slightly on his backside so that I could absorb all the more of his intense, deeply loving and equally fearful expression. “The only reason I ask is because I can’t _bear_ the thought of you… doin’ all that you need to do, going through what you’ve been going through and dragging that sorta shit around. I been through it myself so I know… Look, if ya needed help gettin’ tests done or… if you were scared one them lowlifes went and got you pregnant-”

“Hey, hey.” I gave his shoulder a firm squeeze and looked him in the eye. Gave him a smile. Prayed he couldn’t hear nor feel the pounding of my heart. “I’m not _that_ fucking noble I’d be keeping shit like that quiet from _you,_ John. Reckon I’d be sobbin’ myself to sleep every night if they’d gone as far as that.” I felt the pressure of his fingers press more fully to my own. “They didn’t rape me. Mighta done all of us if they’d managed to keep us in their mitts longer. But we made damn and sure they didn’t get that far, didn’t we?”

So of course, I know full well how John would react; if he were to find out what Marowski had done. And I felt terrible because though I hadn’t lied to him about my experiences at the _Rolling Ranch,_ I had omitted the overall truth in failing to tell him of my previous… assault. Because I _had_ been dragging all that shit around with me. Felt it eat away at me a little every night before the alcohol and Chems could kick it out of my system. I’d lived in fear of what the tests might have revealed; what diseases might have cycled about my body and dominated the horizon of my future. And nothing can match the ever present terror of waiting, wondering whether that stick might have come back with those twin lines to further prolong and provoke my suffering. To find myself then at the attentions of a doctor once more; to terminate what would have been the half child of a man I purely loathed.

And to hear John talk so very kindly of what support he would have offered; in spite of the pain it brought him to learn of my suffering… I was so deeply touched and grateful that it almost broke me then and there. I felt on the very cusp of revealing it all to him; pressing myself into his arms, sobbing into his chest and telling him every last little thing that Marowski had done to me. Leach out the fear and self-loathing and sickness I had carried like some untouchable, untreatable tumor that resided deep in the core of my stomach.

But I couldn’t… of _course_ I couldn’t. I had promised Fahrenheit. And what good would it do now?

Hancock whooshed out a low, deep sigh; pinching his eyes shut briefly. “Thank God…” He mumbled, taking his hand from mine and wrapping it around the back of my head. His lips pressed to my forehead; lingering and firm before guiding me down into his arms. I relinquished whatever was in me that thought to resist and collapsed against the hard, firm curves of his chest; letting him wrap me up completely. It felt so warm and safe in his embrace and so completely _right._ Like… sinking into a plush, cosy bed after too many days without sleep.

“I was so scared those bastards… did to _you_ what they did to _me._ ” He murmured and I stifled my own sob, curling my arms around his back and clutching his shirt tightly between my fingers. “And that you were doing what you always do. Putting on airs, tryin’ to be brave all the time and not sayin’ nothin’ because ya thought it would hurt me to hear it. Just… suffering on in quiet.”

“I have no desire to hide things from you, John.” I whispered, I _lied,_ nuzzling my cheek against the crook of his neck. Though the air contained the final muggy vestiges of the day’s heat, I savoured still the feeling of being close to him like this. As time when on, I found myself craving it more and more. “If something hurt me so _much_ I could barely function, I would share it with you.” I chuckled. “In fact… it’s probably more accurate to say that I have no _ability_ to hide things from you. ‘Specially after a couple of drinks, you know?”

“Ha. Do I _ever._ ” He said, offering up a sad little chuckle of his own, as his fingers curled through the hair on the back of my head. I could feel the muscles in his body sitting taut now; aware of my closeness. Of our… tenderness. “Sorry for askin’… I just… I _hate_ myself, you know?” I could well imagine the bitter smile now gracing his features. Had seen it enough times to know when it was complimentary to his tone. “For not protecting you like I promised I would and-”

“Stop.” I demanded, easing back just enough to press the tips of my fingers to his lips. When I was certain I’d ceased his self-mutilating diatribe, I guided my hand about so that I could instead stroke that lovely, angular square of his jaw. “I’m a big tough old girl, sweetheart. And I know, as a man you feel like ya gotta be bullet proof but there wasn’t _nothin’_ you could do in that situation. _Not a damn thing._ ” I smiled at him gently. “Not… anything you didn’t have a good red hot go at anyway.”

“I just… I can’t live with the thought of people hurting you. Not _you._ ” His palm cupped over my hand and held it steady as he pressed his lips into it. My heart thudded frantically in my chest; feeling that this act was very far removed from a man who simply fancied himself to be my friend and nothing more. “I killed him, you know? That… _cunt_ who pissed on you.”

I _hadn’t_ known this. We didn’t exactly compare notes on whom we had slain following our escape from that Hell hole. Made a list of those that we _suspected_ weren’t dead but it was easier, much for muchness, to simply move on with what needed doing and refocus our attentions on the practical matters at hand.

“Yeah?”

He nodded against my palm; eyes shut as though slowly drifting off to sleep. “Did him nice and slow. Not so nice for him, mind. But it helps me sleep at night… knowing I got _him_ at least.”

I didn’t have much sympathy for the bastard. I remembered still that hot stream of urine on the back of my head; flowing down the sides of my face, into my ears and eyes. Leaking into my still streaming wounds… making itself a part of me. I’d never felt more debased and humiliated in all my life.

“Good.” I said. And meant it. “Only wish _I’d_ had the opportunity to waste the fucker myself. Still… knowing it was _you_ who got to him… Don’t reckon Hell’d have much worse waiting for him.”

“Ain’t that the gods truth.” He murmured; his eyes sliding open to form fierce, fuming slits. That purely resonate and angry expression that I had so few opportunities to witness. The passion which caused an ache to stir inside of me and a near insatiable desire to feel the crushing heat of his hands and lips upon my flesh. “Made him suffer well and good, darlin’. Just like I’ll make _anyone_ suffer they try and hurt you again.”

I stared long and hard towards his eyes; not _into,_ because he wasn’t looking back at me but off into a memory that continued still to itch and irritate his mind. It was just like him, I thought. To project so much outside of himself rather than stare too deeply into the abyss of his own wounded and equally damaged heart. To think pervasively and perpetually of others, rather than spare a seconds consideration for himself.

“What you _don’t_ seem to remember, Hancock, is that _you_ were hurt too.” I told him, rubbing my thumb against the highest swelling of his ragged cheek. “They hurt you… far worse than they did me. And to have to _see_ that… to witness _your_ suffering… It wounded me in a way that they weren’t able to manage otherwise. Don’t you think about that? Sweetheart… they _hated_ you, more than ANY of us combined! They beat the _shit_ out of you. They _brutalized_ you. They… _tortured_ you! For all intents and purposes they went so far as to take your life!” I pressed my lips together, fighting back sobs that wanted so desperately to escape. The squeeze of his palm to the back of my hand gave me some strength to continue speaking, though I found it difficult to look at him without drifting irrevocably back to that time. “I suffered for _so long_ thinking that you were dead. That I’d lost the best goddamned friend I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

I leaned in, pressing my forehead to his own. I could feel the puff of his breath from between his lips and the sadness permeating now between our bodies. For so long we had avoided talking about this shit in _any_ sort of detail, so to have it suddenly lain bare like this… It was because he _cried._ He had _cried_ for me, which meant of course that he cared for me so much that he couldn’t tolerate the memory of my being harmed. Of him, I felt the very same and it was a fathomless and terrifying feeling; to be so raw and candid with one another. I could feel the press of the universal blade to my jugular; reminding me all the more of the dangerous risk I was taking in permitting myself to get close to this man. Someone who, in spite of my great respect and care for him, had proven to turn tail and bury himself deeper into a pit of self-destruction when it suited him to invest in doubt.

“I suffer with those memories too, John.” I murmured, tilting my head to the side and closing my eyes as I gave an altogether noisy and entirely classless snuffle. Hancock chuckled gently as he took his arm from my back and used his thumb to brush away the tears that had pitched low over my cheeks. “I was _scared_ I’d lost you forever. And not for the first time, either. To know you, is to weep for you. Because you’ll be forever only one fair breath from the grave and unafraid to pitch yourself toppling down into it. Your one ‘last big trip’.”

He didn’t answer at first because I think he knew full well that there was a great deal of truth in what I said. It had been in one of our very first conversations when he had revealed to me just how truly reckless he was… or _had_ been, when he was younger. Taking that radiation drug, without having known for certain just what effects it might have had on him. Might very well have killed him in fact. But Hancock adopted a far more casual approach to his own self-worth; distant and seemingly uncaring about himself as a human being. He was quite simply a… life is just a bowl of cherries, sort of guy. Living and laughing at it all, as the song went.

I had admired it about him at first. Before I came to know just how little he actually thought of himself. So confident and accommodating and yet so indifferent. And he _needed_ to start fucking caring. Because if he cared for me even so much as a whit, he would realize just how much I had invested in him by this stage. And how very much it would shatter what softness still remained of my heart were anything to happen to him.

“You’re selfish.” I said and surprised myself with how much I truly believed it. How much I wanted to hurt him with those words. “If you truly cared for me, you would start taking better care of yourself. You would _want_ to live and try so damn fucking hard not to just throw your life away when it suits you! To keep… putting yourself in these horrid situations all the time; without any consideration as to how it makes those who care about you feel!”

Suddenly, I was entirely and completely furious with him. I was up and out of his embrace and moving to storm away and continue being angry at him from a distance. But he didn’t let me get that far. He rose as well and grabbed my wrist, yanking me back so that I turned and got a face full of his own confused and equally pissed off expression.

“Well, what do you fucking expect me to do?!” He yelled, surprising himself I think with how his voice carried. Our emotions were getting the better of us; freed and implosive from the combined effects of Chark, alcohol and ever increasing and deeply crippling exhaustion. “Run away like a goddamned coward whenever danger comes along?! Would you _respect_ me, for that?!” He threw my wrist down and away from him; his face scrunching together in disbelief and disgust. “I made a choice a long time ago that I would _never_ turn my back on a fight _EVER_ again, Eve! I promised I would stand up and make a goddamned difference! Not cower like a fucking dog in the drain while innocent people like Thomas have the shit kicked out of them right in front of me! I _had_ to stop giving a shit about myself! It was the only way to get brave enough to do what needed to be done. The RIGHT goddamned thing! _And I will NOT be made to feel GUILTY ABOUT THAT!! I don’t DESERVE that, least of all from YOU!!_ ”

I had taken it too far. He was _really_ fucking angry now and in a way that I had _never_ before witnessed. Sure, I had seen him scream rage and abuse at the _Rolling Ranch_ and cut sick at the Ghouls in _Wanderer’s Respite_. But I’d never seen him so… raw. And it hurt all the more because he’d made me feel ashamed. For losing my temper in the first instance. For accusing him of being selfish, when he was by far one of the least selfish people I knew. I was just… cross with him for being cruel to himself. I wanted him to care about himself, at least half as much as I did. So he would simply _be_ more careful, mind himself the more whenever we engaged someone in a fight. Not put his neck neatly under the guillotine whenever it was proffered.

But now I’d gone and blown it big time. We were having a fight. Our _first_ fight. I’d always felt that I had a neat handle on how to approach and deal with Hancock; treading gently with light humor and steady prevalent patience. Enough to keep his temper in check, so that he would feel that in unleashing it he would be treating me unjustly. And now I’d gone and triggered him off in the worst way possible. Reminded him of something he found intensely painful and personal.

I _was_ a tough old girl. I’d been a tough old lawyer too and a once tough bouncer at a titty bar. I felt too that I had endured the endless barrage of mental and emotional torment of this terrifying new world with as much grace and strength as was possible for a person to marshal; given the circumstances. I’d kept it in check for a good long time. But Hancock’s relaxed, unshakeable demeanour had been one of my constants and in uprooting that, I had sent a thunderous reverberation cascading down into the core of my being, which unsettled everything I had managed to keep so carefully balanced for oh so very long.

Exhaustion. Unaddressed trauma. Alcohol. Chark. My dear, cherished friend rounding off at me (though quite deservedly so). My stomach went first; pitching in on itself so that I caved in half, clutching my arms tight to my midsection as though I had been punched. My legs wavered slightly but continued to hold me up. My face however, lost whatever slim control it had entirely. I gaped like a stupid, useless fish; trying to find nourishment from air that was slowly suffocating it upon the shore onto which it had been mercilessly dragged. My vocal cords expunged an odd, incomprehensible sound. A sort of ‘Huh-ha-huh-ha-huh-ha’, which resembled nothing so much as laughter in context as it did in construct. A pain strobed through the cords surrounding my heart and my lungs flattened in on themselves as they attempted to draw upon air that the stupid sound in my throat prevented from entering into my body.

I knew what this was. I used to have them all the time; when I was a teenager and hormonal and persecuted by bullies. And then as a new mother; terrified of the irreversible changes in my life and unable to cope with the reality of it. All those wicked, putrefying chemicals flushing themselves down from my brain and sending the rest of my body haywire in its attempts to deal with it.

A good old fashioned panic attack.

Mine came with tears though, which was its only saving grace, I’m sure you’ll think me weird for saying. But it shocked Hancock out of his fury long enough to pay attention to the fact that I was genuinely not okay. Men notice things like tears first and it makes the panic somehow seem more real; like the puffing and heaving might just be a means to trick them out of their rant.

“Eve…?” He asked carefully, taking a step towards me and reaching out both hands as though to take me back into his arms. I pushed away from him, holding out my own palm to prevent him from getting any closer. “Okay… I won’t touch you. Just… tell me what you need me to do. It’s a panic attack, right?”

Ah, so he wasn’t so stupid as other folks might have been. One of the advantages of his being older, I suppose. I shook my head, bending over a little and pressing my hands to my knees in an attempt to get a breath in. The air in the Church just felt too… dirty and muggy. Like breathing in the vapours of chalk expunged from the banging together of two dusters.

“Just… just give me a minute…” I sobbed, twisting about and resting my hand on the border of the Church’s door. My head was spinning and I felt dizzy; I really wasn’t thinking straight. If I had been, I wouldn’t have just tried to then bumble on out the way that I did; without any thought as to what might be lingering in the world beyond.

Hancock attempted to stop me. He put his arm out in front of my body and started to say, “Hey, let me just check out there fi-” but I didn’t let him finish. Instead, I did something terrible. I _slapped_ him. Not the playful kind I usually dispensed but a good, full bodied strike to the cheek; enough to smack his head sideways and stagger him on his feet.

I’m not certain who was more shocked by it; him or myself. I felt as though the act had come from someone else entirely, it was so uniquely unlike me. Shame burbled; competing for space amidst the prevalent swelling of panic. Hancock didn’t speak, didn’t even turn his head back towards me. I think he too might have been questioning the validity of what had just occurred. I used the opportunity to stagger away from him; down the crumbling steps of the Church entryway and around to the right hand side of the building. There was some cover there; some overgrowth that should conceal me from most things that might come sniffing about. I thought to inter myself there until I could regain control.

I sank down amidst the bushes; plonking firmly onto my ass and resting my wrists on my knees. I hung my head as low as possible and concentrated on slowing my breathing down. My body didn’t want to cooperate; kept trying to force me to suck in air quickly and repetitively. And now I was crying to boot.

How could I _do_ that? How could I _hit_ that dear, wonderful man? Especially after all the beautiful things he had said to me? How much care he had expressed for my welfare and safety. And _this_ was how I chose to reward him. Accusing him of being selfish and _striking_ him. He had done _nothing_ to deserve that.

“You… _bitch_ …” I hissed at myself, tears rolling down my face and dripping off onto the ground with the steadiness of a leaking faucet. “It would… serve you fucking… right if he… nicked off now and… left you here! Serve you… goddamn right!!”

I was so focused on berating myself that I failed to recognize the danger I was in until it was right on top of me. I felt a sharp stinging in the side of my neck and I thought for a second that a… bee or whatever variant this world had, might have taken exception to my sharing the bush with it. When I yelped and reached up to swat at it however, a vice like grip snatched around my wrist and prevented me from interfering.

“Well, well… fancy running into _you_ here!” A cheerful and terrifyingly familiar voice jeered into my ear. My blood turned to ice in my veins and my panic attack ceased immediately – the fear forcing the chemicals to near obliteration in my system. Oh dear God _no… NO!_ Not _him!!_

“HANCOCK!!” I screamed, my cry turning into a painful yelp as I was shoved sideways onto the ground and pinned. A dreadful cold worm seemed to flow down into my neck as whatever was in the needle found its way inside of my bloodstream. _“JOHN, HELP ME!! IT’S HIM!!”_

 _“Shh, shh, shh…_ ” The figure above me soothed, withdrawing that horrible dreadful syringe from my flesh. His spare hand pressed down hard on the side of my face, pinning my cheek into the twig bedecked earth as his thumb massaged the pinprick on my neck. Something was tickling the curve of my shoulder and I suspected that an ant might have been crawling across my skin. A funny thing to take stock of at a time like this. “You might be wishing you saved your strength for later. Plenty more screaming to be done once _I_ get started.”

I might have given more to protest or struggle, I’m uncertain. The world was very dark all of a sudden and those things I could still see were grossly blurred and swaying in and out of focus. My muscles felt utterly drained and sleep came charging for me as inescapable as the furious, hungry jaws of an encroaching shark. The last thing I saw before unconsciousness carried me away entirely, was Hancock’s boots rounding the corner of the Church. His voice burbled my name and the weight of my attacker left my body as he made his play for Hancock instead. I heard a shot fire off and I could only hope and pray that it had been Hancock in possession of the gun.

And then there was nothing but the complete and utter obliteration of the abyss.

**_Location: Unknown..._ **

I have no memory of how I had arrived there. Only that I awoke; nauseous and bleary eyed and staring out into a world that make not a lick of sense to my already addled mind.

The first thing I did was throw up and the act nearly fucking killed me. The vomit arched _upward_ and across my nose; some of it dribbling down over my eyes and forehead. I realized all too quickly that this was no mystical force at play; I was hanging upside down. I tipped my head back so that the next expulsion was emptied directly onto the floor beneath me. Dark, filthy concrete from little I could gather. And all the more filthy now to be drenched in the contents of my stomach.

“It’s okay, Munch. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Came Hancock’s soothing voice from somewhere behind me. I heaved a sob, shaking my head to try and clear the dreadful residue out of my eyes. I couldn’t move my hands; they were tightly bound behind my back. The same with my ankles. From the slight slucking noise that the bonds made, I think our attacker might have used duct tape.

“Oh Jesus Christ…” I moaned, my entire body trembling and quaking in my bonds. I tried to twist myself around to see where Hancock was but whatever I was hanging from didn’t give me this much manoeuvrability. I could only sway back and forth whilst facing in the one direction. “Oh John… it was _him_. It was _him_ , wasn’t it?!”

He chuckled humourlessly. “Sure as the day is long, Munch. None other. Same horrible fucking dress and everything.”

Although I knew it wouldn’t be particularly brave of me, I let out a small sob of despair. This couldn’t be happening… He was supposed to be _dead_ , like all the others we had slaughtered on our way outta that pit of Hell. But I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me; given his strength and almost preternatural nature whence compared to the rest of the grimy sods. Greater and more mysterious than the others and perhaps twice as insane to boot.

“Fuck.” I whispered, slashing my head down towards the floor in a gesture that sent a few clumps of vomit whipping away. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ”

“I hear ya, chicken. Ain’t the most ideal situation.”

“Did he hurt you?” I asked, blinking my eyes hard and fast to try and rid them of the bile that had leaked between my lashes. I was _dying_ to be able to reach down and give them a good wipe.

Hancock gave a soft grunt. “Damn bastard’s _quick,_ I’ll give him that much. Bashed my head against the side of the Church; knocked me right the fuck out.” He murmured to himself; apparently mulling something over in his own thoughts before choosing to share them with me. “It’s the weirdest thing… I swear I capped the fucker; _right_ as he was comin’ at me. Fired a shot off into his guts and sent him skittling.”

“With your shotgun?”

He made a sort of ‘uh-uh’ sound in his throat. “With _your_ gun, Munch. Shoulda blown a hole the size of fucking Timbucktu through the center of the dirty cunt. But he’s layin’ there all curled up on the ground and when I get close to put the curb stump on the freaky fuck, he up and donkey kicks me right under the chin.” He hissed with annoyance at himself. “Of all the times in my life to go and _miss_ it’s gotta be then. Shoulda lain waste to the fucker.”

It _was_ confusing to be certain. John _never_ missed a shot. Mainly because he was always so close to his foes that he didn’t give them much of a chance to dodge. I wondered if it was because he wasn’t accustomed to the recoil of the magnum or that having seen me collapsed on the ground his concentration had been affected. Either option didn’t seem entirely likely; John had once trained his body to be able to withstand the blowback of a shotgun wielded one handed, so the force of a magnum should not have been of much contention for him. And seeing me under duress should only have made him the more determined to bring down my attacker. He was hardly a neophyte in the area of combat after all. He didn’t get all shaky and wobbly and insecure just from seeing something like that.

“Don’t blame yourself…” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment and keeping them this way. The room was spinning, which certainly didn’t help given that I was already staring at it from upside down. My nausea was only slightly alleviated from my earlier expulsion and I didn’t much fancy a repeat of it. “We know these bastards aren’t exactly normal. He might have been wearing some sort of… bullet proof vest or something.”

Hancock scoffed; not sounding the least convinced. “Have to be some sorta bulletproof to handle a shot from a .44 magnum at a closing distance of ten feet, Munch.” He grunted to himself once more. “Thing is… I _swear_ I saw blood kicking up… fucking _swear_ it, black and blue. Oughta have blown his guts straight out the back of him…”

“If if’s and and’s were pots and pans, ‘twould cure the tinker’s cares.” I mumbled, not wanting to sound dismissive but feeling that there were more important things to be concerning ourselves with than Hancock’s wounded pride. Which in turn made me feel all the more terrible because it wasn’t the least his fault that we were in this god awful situation in the first place. It was mine. For behaving like a spoilt, nasty brat. “Oh John… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me, Running outside like that was _so_ fucking stupid. This is all my goddamned fault.”

He made a dismissive sort of ‘ _eh’_ sound; which was so casual you might have thought the pair of us were lounging on a sofa together in the warmth of a boring Sunday afternoon. The very thing we _ought_ to have been doing right then.

“Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have yelled at you the way that I did.”

I shook my head resolutely; not prepared for him to let me get away with having been so unaccountably ignorant.  “I deserved it. Saying what I said… _hitting_ you. It wasn’t right.”

“No you _didn’t_ fucking deserve it.” He snapped back; an edge of irritation marring his words. “Everything you’ve been going through and I take my shit out on you. _I’m_ the one who should be sorry.”

“But I was the one who-”

An exasperated groan from close by cut brutally through the midst of our conversation.

“Oh, Jesus Christ what _is_ this, a fucking _niceness_ competition?” A woman’s voice complained from within the darkness of the room. It sounded as though it was coming roughly to the right of me. “Keep up with that and _I’m_ gonna be the one hurling. From what _I_ gather, sounds ta me like you’re _both_ to blame for getting in this hot mess.”

Hancock gave a near hostile snort in the general direction of the impertinent girl.

“Yeah? Well fortunately we _didn’t_ ask you, princess.”

I didn’t waste any time in feeling pissed off for having been chastised. I noticed that as the girl had been talking, there had come that same now distinctive sound of duct tape crackling and twisting in the background. Her voice came from down low as well, so I theorized that like us, this woman was a captive and hanging from the rafters.

“Hancock,” I growled, twisting my head so as to ensure that my voice carried back to him. “Might you be a dear and _please_ not antagonize maybe the _only_ ally we could have in this dark and potentially deadly situation?”

A burst of brash feminine laughter came from my right. “Oh, don’t stress about us, honey. Jonnie and I have gotten to know each other pretty well waiting for you to wake on up. Gotta say it’s nice ta have someone new to chat to.”

“Someone new?” I asked, twisting my head about to see whether my eyes had finally adjusted to the dark. It was hard to make out anything in the gloom but I could now vaguely discern a swaying, human like shape about two arm lengths from where I myself was suspended.

“What she means is that she’s had a gut full of talkin’ ta _me._ ” Issued a crackly, unimpressed male sounding voice from somewhere up ahead. There came a squeaking echo from what I supposed to be a steel pylon above; being abraded by what might have been a length of chain. I could only assume the man who had spoken was now twisting himself about in his bonds.

The girl gave another of her rash, sarcastic sounding laughs. “Yeah. And why _wouldn’t_ I be thrilled to be shootin’ the breeze with the asshole Raider that was holding up my bosses’ caravan when _this_ crazy dress wearing shithead gets the jump on us? Excuse _me_ for much preferring the company of Goodneighbor’s _mayor_ whilst waiting for… whatever the bleedin’ shit this crazy fuck has got lined up for us.”

“And what? You think _I’m_ fuckin’ thrilled ta be here?” The fellow shot back; hosting a distinctive quaver to his voice which suggested that he wasn’t far removed from puberty. Maybe only sixteen or seventeen… a boy, really. “That holdup was supposed to be my goddamned initiation! Supposed ta go all nice and smooth they said. No one mentioned anythin’ about bein’ hammered by some goddamn pervert and strung up like a fuckin’ radstag!”

“All a you might want to be considering keeping your voices _down._ ” Hancock hissed; using his not often employed ‘do as you’re told _right the fuck NOW’_ tone. The very same he had levelled at Finn right before levelling the blade of his knife into his stomach. “Unless you want that ‘goddamn freak show pervert’ ta come waltzing back in.”

That sure as hell shut them up for a moment; giving me some blessed silence to finally take proper, cohesive stock of our situation.

I was hanging upside down and bound at the wrists and ankles with what I presumed was some industrial strength duct tape. There was a cold metal column between my ankle bones, which appeared to loop underneath the duct tape on each side. I could only guess that this was an iron hook; attached to a coil of rusted chain which passed into the darkness above our heads. (I based this assumption on the severe creaking and squeaking the four of us where making as we slowly swayed about. Rusted metal makes a particular noise that is fairly distinctive from that which has not deteriorated). I couldn’t see shit when I lifted my head and stared up past where I’m sure my feet were but I imagine that there were either wood or steel beams above us. We had to have been hanging from something, after all.

Of course the room was very dark. There was no light coming in; not even a dim stream passing through a pane of glass in an overhead window. Nothing blinked or glowered; so there was nothing technological in the room it seemed. The air smelt… mildewy. The scent of rot that comes from those subterranean places that the light never reaches and all that dwells within deteriorates inside of a watery grave. But there was something else as well. Something strangely sweet and deleterious… the sort of smell that made me fight back the urge to empty what remained of my dinner all over the floor again.

With the chattering of the others having ceased, I was further able to take a listen of our distant surroundings. It was distressingly quiet. Water dripping from somewhere nearby, which explained the smell of the damp. And from slightly further away, though distinctly muffled, came the lilting, peaceful sway of music. Jazz from what I could gather. Music I usually adored but in this situation, it only succeeded in adding a creep factor that really wasn’t required.

The room was even muggier than the air had been outside earlier. Which was a welcome relief because all of my clothes had been stripped off. Well, save for my bra and my ‘Scalice brand’ knickers. It made perfect sense, knowing what this bastard was all about and it sure as shit made me feel the more vulnerable. Running away from danger was bad enough, let alone when you were self-conscious of anything that might be wibbling and wobbling along the way. Not to mention that I was reasonably sure I had pissed myself at some stage whilst I was unconscious; my underpants were damp and itched horribly. Fortunately, the room smelt so bad as it was, I doubted any of the others would pick up the pong of urine amongst the other assorted stenches.

I flexed my wrists, trying to bring them apart as much as possible but the duct tape had been wrapped so tightly that I’m sure the circulation in my hands was being cut off. Not to mention the thickness suggested he had doubled up with that many layers it would be near to impossible to get my hands free.

I gave up on this for the moment and started twisting myself around and about; grunting a little as I thrashed like a fish being suspended by the gills. I jiggled my legs; pushed and pulled with my ankles in an attempt to pry them out from where the tape held them stalwart. There was just no _give_. And I was reluctant to expend more energy than absolutely necessary; at least until I knew a little more of our situation.

“Bless her.” The woman snickered; though she didn’t sound as though she were truly mocking my efforts. Just… exhausted from the failures of her own, I assumed. “She’s having a red hot go of it, isn’t she?”

“If anyone was capable of getting themselves out of this mess, it would be Munch.” Hancock said, giving a gentle chuckle. “I’m guessing you ain’t got an inch of give anywhere, sister?”

I groaned furiously in the back of my throat; trying to ignore the painful pounding of my heart in a chest that felt quite suddenly too frail to support it. Fear, you understand, is such a draining emotion. It saps the strength from everything it sinks it horrid little fangs into and leaves nothing behind more substantial than a withered husk.

“Nothing. And because of where my arms are bound, I can’t-” I tried bending at my middle and crunching my core up to reach towards my legs but of course there was no point. My bound arms, only acted as a hindrance. I slumped back down, defeated. “I can’t reach up to unbind my legs.”

“Already tried myself.” Hancock muttered, to which I shouldn’t have been surprised. If there was an easy, or even a moderate means of escaping this mess, John Hancock would have already managed it on his own. The fact that he was still hanging here, only proved that we were in a very steep situation indeed. “It’s sort of ingenious, really. Ropes and even chains are easier to manipulate than tape. Once so many layers are applied, it’s harder to get out of than a blind date arranged by your mother.”

I wanted to smile, or even manage a laugh but I was just too frightened. I think Hancock must have realized because when next he spoke, his voice was far more soft and tender

“Hey… We _are_ going to get out of here, Eve.” He said firmly and there was such reassurance in his tone that it made me feel a little calmer. “We got away from this prick once. Him and the whole messed up circus act he ran with, don’t forget. We were weaker; bleeding out and almost toes up. The _both_ of us. We might be hangin’ upside down like a coupla salami’s right now but we got outta it once before. We’ll just do it again.”

I tried not to let him sense my fear because I wanted to be strong for him too. After all, he was the one who had been hurt most directly by this bastard. I’d barely had much to do with him; only the experience of being briefly hunted by him in the underground rooms of the _Rolling Ranch._ And witnessing the power he had exerted over one of the most dangerous and powerful of my own tormentors. At first, I had foolishly assumed that this might make him a sympathetic ear to our circumstances. Oh how wrong a person can be.

“But _I_ had to get you down back then. And he’d already hurt you by the time I got to you.” I whispered back, flinching internally at the memory of how I had found Hancock that dreadful day. Hanging upside down, just as we were now, with that big rectangular hunk of flesh dangling from his back. The fact that he was still alive, when I had already presumed him to be dead, was my only solace in witnessing his most egregious injuries. “Who on earth is going to come and rescue _us?_ No one knows where we are.”

For a moment he was silent and then, he chuckled in a most ironic fashion. “And since when have _you_ ever needed rescuing?” He murmured and his combined humor and confidence made me feel the slightest bit better. To know that he had faith in me, even when we were potentially on the precipice of something so… horrifying.

“Well…” I said, closing my eyes once more to give them a rest from the bizarre and surreal state that they were in from all the swaying about. “You’ve often enough come to my aid whenever my glass has been empty…”

“Then we help each other.” He stated, his voice warm in place of the arm or hand he might have extended as a means to comfort me. “The Dangerous Duo. Am I right?”

“And god help any of them, who get in our way.” I murmured, wishing I could give him our customary little fist bump to make myself feel better. I settled for practicalities instead; getting as much information on the situation at hand. “He strip you down too?”

Hancock grunted in the back of his throat. “Seems like it. Least the guy had the decency to leave my skivvies on. What about you?”

I sighed; squeezing my eyes tightly to fight back a pang of pain as it bashed through my skull. All the blood rushing down into our heads… This wasn’t healthy; maybe even potentially fatal. I could just imagine all the blood pooling in the capillaries of the brain; expanding them beyond breaking point until they burst and haemorrhaged and we all died there; blood leaching out of our ears and eyes and mouths…

How long could a person hung upside down for before they died? A day? A few hours? And god knows how long I had been hanging there unconscious… I scoffed a little; amazed that I could be so concerned with a thing like _that._ Dying from being inverted for too long sounded like absolute _Heaven_ compared to what this bastard likely had in store for us…

“Come back to me, Eve.” Hancock said and I started a little; realizing just as he had that I’d allowed myself to be carried away by fear. I did my best to push these concerns out of mind by refocusing on the question that he had asked me in the first place.

“Oh… um, yes. I have my bra and panties on still.” I said, fluttering my eyes back open and panning them about the room. My ankles ached from the horrid pull of the tape and even my arms were sore from being bound up so unnaturally behind me. I forced my mind to focus on _these_ things, rather than permit it to become more and more befuddled by terror. “’Spose that’s one small blessing. Are you hurt very bad?”

“Nah, Munchkin. Not me. Just a bit of a sore head is all. Nothin’ I ain’t used to already.” He gave a dry sounding laugh. “How about you? Nothing broken or bleeding?”

I flexed each of my muscles individually and jutted out my joints where possible; trying to detect any pain that might not have been obvious to me upon awakening. I could distinguish the aching soreness that came part and parcel with our unnatural confinement but nothing else appeared to be particularly out of place.

“Just a bit sore in my neck where he got me with the needle.” I grumbled, thinking I’d come up with a nice old bruise there later. Assuming of course that there _was_ a later. “Can’t believe I was stupid enough to let him just sneak up on me like that.”

“Yeah well, the son of a bitch is faster and sneakier than a down on his luck Jet junkie in a Chem den.” Hancock remarked humourlessly. “I can’t for the life of me figure out how the bastard dragged us both here though… I know he’s stronger than he looks but still… You were _here_ when _I_ woke up. And I’m not feeling so shit that I’d think we’d been strung up for that long. But to imagine a guy like… _that_ … managing to carry us _both_ at the same time? Doesn’t make much sense.”

“Well, as you might recall not _many_ of ‘em made much sense.” I reinforced, flexing my fingers one at a time against my thumb to crack air out of the stiff joints. I did the same with my toes and ankles; wanting to prevent them from cramping. With the blood draining out of them, they were bound to be near weak and useless if we got freed but I had to do whatever I could to prepare them anyway. “But still… he _must_ have been nearby. And I don’t know about you, Hancock, but I don’t think that he just _happened_ to stumble across us.”

He sighed, low and desolate. “I echo the sentiment, Munch. Think the bastard may have been hunting us. Mighta picked wind of us in one of the last settlements and made his way out here on a hunch.” He paused for a moment and when speaking again, sounded thoughtful. “Still… you’ve got to wonder if a place like this needed much setting up and arranging? Can’t have just plucked it out of thin air, right?”

“You haven’t had a good look at it yet?” I whispered back but it was the girl who replied.

“Johnnie here didn’t get much of a chance for a look see. Me and this Raider tool were here first; got us a decent enough look when the freak snapped the lights on to bring you both in.”

“What do you think?” I asked, assuaging common courtesy for the time being, in favor of collaborating as much information as possible. Every minute from here on out was absolutely critical.

The girl ‘hrrmmed’ thoughtfully. “Flooded sewer area, far as I can tell. I think he’s got _us_ hanging in some sort of maintenance room; where they operated the pumps from or some shit. I don’t know.” The tape about her ankles crackled and creaked as I assumed she rotated about in her bonds. “He’s in a little room off to the side there. Sort of a… I don’t know; break area, I guess?”

The ‘Not-quite-there-yet-Raider’ snorted from out of the darkness. “That’s a thought, ain’t it? People actually _eatin’_ down here, surrounded by other people’s shit.”

I ignored him; having a good think about what this information afforded us. Sewerage meant drainage pipes. And drainage pipes, by definition of their own name, were required to drain into a greater expanse at some point. Namely the ocean or even large reservoirs.

“All that shit gotta filter out somewhere.” Hancock remarked, echoing my own thoughts precisely. If I could have turned and flashed a grin at him, I would have done so.

“Great minds think alike.” I said, having another go at wriggling my hands in the bonds. My wrists were pressed so tight together by the tape that sweat was starting to form between them. It gave me an idea; though not a particularly nice one. I made the decision to continue gathering information before ploughing ahead with this thought, however. “So… what are your names?”

“Miranda.” Said the girl from close by. By the brash timber of her voice, I imagine that she wanted to impart the impression that she was a confident in a situation where she otherwise felt completely out her depth. The slight tremor to the end of her sentences gave away her clearly unappreciated sense of anxiety.

“Bryant.” Grunted the fellow from up ahead. Once more, I don’t think he spoke with any true intention to sound like a ‘tough guy’ but was simply attempting to marshal his fear.

“My name’s Eve.” I told them, working now to rub my feet together; one ankle bone abrading the other. Because of the way that the ‘hook’ was pulling the tape upward towards the ceiling, I thought this was where I might exploit some of the give in the material. I’d keep working on it at any event. “Wish we could be meeting under better circumstances. But I’m gonna give you guys some free advice now; you value your lives any, you’d better start fightin’ like a fucking tiger to get your little butts outta here.”

“What and waste energy we don’t have?” Miranda asked incredulously. She spoke with the assurance of someone who practiced survival every day of their lives and whom had ample experience with marshalling their physicality to an advantage. “No way outta these bonds, far as I can tell. Besides, he’s gonna have to take us down eventually, right?”

“How you figure that?” Hancock said, with an air of patient exhaustion. Much like a father might have when entertaining the speculations of their child, whilst all the time knowing good and well what was the correct course of action.

Bryan scoffed from somewhere out of the darkness. “Please. Nutter’s clearly some kinda whacked out sex pervert. Two to one odds he’s gonna drag one a the girls down and fuck ‘em at some point, right?”

Hancock chuckled in that way he had which said quite plainly, to me at least, that he wasn’t at all amused by what he was hearing. “I like your confidence, kid. But considering he brought you here too, what makes you think he’s not into YOUR sweet little ass?” He rounded this provocative statement off with a series of wet, kissing sounds which in turn forced me to smother a laugh.

Now it was the boys turn to sound unimpressed. “Like hell!” He spat and the pylon above him shrieked the more for his increased retaliation against it. “I ain’t lettin’ myself be fucked by some nancy ass faggot in a _dress_!”

“Ah yes, because you did _so well_ putting up a fight when he dragged you here and slung you up like a molerat on a cellar door.” Hancock purred, determined it seemed to antagonize the boy to the enth degree. It must have been retribution for being so flippant about mine and Miranda’s supposed ‘fates’. “Serve you right you go and get reamed up the ass, you dismissive piece of shit.”

“Fuck you, man!” The boy snapped; clearly not having considered his future in just up and insulting the Mayor of the most badass town in all the Commonwealth. But Hancock just continued to laugh; his tone not the least expressing irritation.

“Oh, no brother. _You’re_ the one who’s going to be _fucked_.” He taunted, pleased it would seem for having put some fright up the boy. It _did_ serve him right, for simply having assumed that he was here for… what? Decorative purposes? Why should he have assumed that he wasn’t in nearly as much risk as any one of us? Did he think he’d simply be exempt because he was _male?_ Youth and arrogance were never a particularly nice mix and never was it more apparent than with this young specimen here.

“ _Whatever_ he’s into,” Miranda stated, apparently trying to bring the conversation back towards something resembling civility. “Eventually, he’s gotta take one of us down to… fool around with, right? _That’s_ our chance to make a go of it. He got the jump on me before; snuck up all sneaky like. Well, I ain’t gonna let it happen again. This time _I’ll_ be prepared to make a good go of it. _That’s_ what we need to be saving our strength for.”

I groaned sadly, shaking my aching head gently from side to side. “Oh man… you guys have got the wrong end of a _very_ crooked stick. As luck would have it, we’ve all been captured by perhaps the _only_ psycho in the Commonwealth who _isn’t_ interested in fucking his victims.”

Miranda didn’t sound altogether convinced. “Well… clearly most maniacs are after other things sure but… sex is nearly always a part of it, right?”

“Usually.” Hancock conceded and I could hear the sticky squeaking of the tape about his wrists as he clearly fought to free himself from it. “Except where this… _freakshow_ is concerned.”

“Well, I don’t get it.” Bryant exclaimed from his own private corner of the saturating darkness. “What the fuck does he want then?”

Hancock gave a mean chuckle. “Your soft little hide, sweetheart.”

“My… my hide?” The boy repeated, clearly not understanding John’s reference for what it was. His tone ascended once more into pure indignation. “Is that another crack about my _ass_ , you goddamned Ghoul?!”

“He doesn’t mean your _ass_ you idiot.” Miranda snapped and I could tell from the timbre of her own voice, that she had a much better understanding of what Hancock was inferring. And was appropriately frightened by it. “What I think he means is… our... our _skin._ You’re saying this whackjob wants our _skin?!_ ”

I twisted my head towards where I supposed the girl was hanging and shooshed her violently.

“Keep your voice down. You don’t want to send him running in here, do you?!”

Miranda emitted a low, fearful moan; the kind which said she understood full well that she was correct in her assumptions.

“The way you guys are talking… you _know_ who this bastard is, don’t you?”

Hancock gave an ironic sounding grunt. “We’ve crossed paths before. Crazy shithead took a good chunk out of my back our last meeting.”

“Well who the fuck is he?!” Bryant all but shrieked, his voice nearly drowned out by the frantic screeching and flexing of the tape about his limbs. He must have been positively thrashing about in his fear; desperate to get free before he got a firsthand demonstration of what his ‘hide’ actually was.

“We never got his name.” I said, focusing once more on carefully flexing my feet in my own bonds. The tape felt as though it might have been rolling together on one side. “He was one of the… ‘staff’ members that worked in the _Rolling Ranch_.”

Miranda loosed a soft sound of recognition. “Jesus, I heard about that. All those people they took… every time we put our nose in at _Bunker Hill_ we’re _still_ seeing so many of those folks. Poor bastards.”

“Wait a minute…” Bryant muttered, pausing in his hearty escape efforts just long enough to include himself in the conversation. “I heard this group of folks broke into the place and blew the lid right offa it. There was talk that one of ‘em was the Mayor a Goodneighbor. That was the two a you, right? That’s how you _know_ this fucker!”

“True enough.” Hancock replied, his voice distracted. I think he was, like me, putting most of his concentration towards mentally studying his own bonds. “He didn’t work with the main crew above ground. He was more of a… behind the scenes sorta guy.”

“The people who ran the _Rolling Ranch_ believed in a sort of Ouroboros  principle.” I provided, twisting my wrists back and forth upon themselves. They were starting to feel a little raw, even with the lubrication of my congealing sweat. But I wanted them a _whole_ lot rawer than this. “Everything comes full circle; everything sustains something else and has purpose. “Nothing wasted; _everything_ gained”.

Hancock laughed dryly, not a trace of humor present in his tone. “Those they couldn’t sell or use for some sort of monetary profit, found their uses in other ways. Skin was used to make leather for clothing, adornments, weapons and the like. Straps and belts and laces, etc, etc. And the meat was-”

“Please.” Miranda moaned, sounding as though she was on the verge of being sick. I think she had already succumbed to tears. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“Lucky for you, sister. _We_ had to live it.”

“The guy that kidnapped us… I think his ‘official’ title was _Rodeo Tailor._ ” I said, tightening every muscle in my body and holding my spine as straight as possible. I twisted from side to side, trying to further impede upon the tape at my ankles. Force it to roll in on itself further and lessen its width and grip upon my flesh. _“_ They were into some weird Western themed shit, ya see; those goddamned monsters. Most of the time though, the folks upstairs called him the _Mad Haberdasher.”_ I gave a fake, mocking little laugh. “Rolls of the tongue, no?”

Miranda sniffed from somewhere within the darkness beside me. “Yeah well… I think the ‘madness’ is more than implied. Guy was wearin’ a goddamn dress and all…”

“Yeah but it’s more than that. Don’t let appearances fool you. Dude managed to get all four of us hanging here in this room; that ought to tell you something.”

Hancock grunted in affirmation of my statement. “He’s stronger and faster and madder than a Deathclaw in a cage. Completely irrational and impossible ta be reasoned with. Not the least bit swayed by people screamin’ in his ear either. Believe me; _I know._ ”

“But I don’t get this.” Bryant asked, as beside me, Miranda’s bonds started to sing their own chorus of resistance as she plied them with the harried, despairing wrenches of her body. “That Rollin’ Ranch thing was burnt to the ground and most of them folks runnin’ the place were executed.”

“Clearly he wasn’t one of them. Mores the pity.” I mumbled and clamped my lips shut as I heard the Jazz music click sharply off in the distance. Someone was approaching; humming as they came; their footsteps sounding surprisingly light and yet thunderous in the same breath. In this vision deprived state; it’s amazing how attune your ears become to such subtleties. Compensating for what else is sucked beneath the void of the seemingly endless gloom. 

“You see…” I said, swallowing back in a throat all of a sudden too dry and inhospitable for such things. My anxiety wanted to send every ounce of fluid in my body streaming to the outside. My heart flailed against the walls of its cavernous enclosure. “-the thing is… if it wasn’t obvious from the fact that John is here now… he prefers his… victims to be _alive_ when he…”

Miranda and Bryant fell silent and I could just imagine the horror now plunging through their veins at what I had said. Because now they were aware, beyond all doubt, of the reason they had been brought here.

And what would happen to them, to _all_ of us, when those soft footsteps reached the door and that cheerful humming voice found its way inside. A voice which never lost its jolly stride; even whence interred amongst the anguished screams of the poor soul whose skin he slowly and tenderly peeled away. Piece by agonizing piece.

The footsteps stopped. My heart followed suit. Light pierced the room in the form of a long, white blade that cut across the floor beneath us. Dots prickled against my eyes as they worked desperately to adjust.

He was here.

And he wasn’t alone.

**_Goodneighbor – Present Day…_ **

In the kind of mocking irony that you just couldn’t make up, it was at this point in the story when Hancock came bursting in through the open doorway with Fahrenheit; startling the ever loving shit out of everyone in the room. Meaghan near slopped her cocktail down the front of her dress and Piper went dancing across to the far side of the counter, panting and puffing with relief when she realized that it _hadn’t_ been the Mad Haberdasher himself.

Not that Hancock was any less startling given _his_ current attire. Since last I had set eyes upon the man, he had been thoroughly bedecked with Christmas decorations. His hat was wreathed in gold and red tinsel, with a stair loomed in the foremost peak and what looked to be a tiny re-enactment of Jesus’s birth scattered about the remaining borders. He had matching tinsel wreathed about his wrists and someone (or several someone’s) had gone so far as to paint a pretty pink and purple butterfly mask on his face; lashed with an adornment of glitter at the corners of his eyes.

Far from appearing displeased by the lurid bedecking, John was in fact beaming like the cat who’d had its cream. High as a kite, no doubt and buoyed perhaps by his earlier ventures up above the street lights where he damn well _knew_ he wasn’t supposed to be straying. He never looked more pleased than when he was doing something naughty. It’s why he was so often seen to be smiling whilst strutting about Diamond City. After having spiked the collective noodle pot, no doubt.

My story forgotten for the time being, we all naturally spent a few moments laughing at John’s ridiculous appearance. Which was a welcome breather, given how morbid my tale had become. Meyer stretched himself up, smirked and braced his spread fingers across the counter top.

“Well…” He drawled, adopting then a ‘sing-song’ tone of voice as he stared Hancock up and down. “ _Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-_ faggot _._ ”

Hancock batted his eyes and pushed his palm up beside his head; like a dignified lady attempting to fluff up her hair in a moment of vanity. “Please. You’re just jealous because I’m skinny, _bitch_.”

Meyer himself joined in on the laughter as he turned sideways and stuck his stomach out all the more to emphasize its roundness. Meaghan groaned and glanced off in the other direction; shaking her head self-pityingly.

“What the hell happened to you?” Cait finally asked, walking around Hancock in a circle as though to make certain there were no other hidden adornments on his person. “You look like a reindeer piñata just shot its load all over your face.”

Hancock chuckled heartily. “Just about. Bunch of kids travellin’ with the caravans wanted to Christmas me up. Didn’t have the heart to say no.”

Meyer flashed him a knowing, sceptical look. “I bet you fucking _asked_ for the butterfly, ya big doily.”

“You can bet I fucking did.” Hancock confirmed, smirking unashamedly as his eyes drifted over at focus on me at long last. His face softened as he drifted closer and I felt my heart flutter receptively in my chest. We had only been apart a short while and yet I still reacted to his presence with the same excitement as I had done whence returning to town and seeing him once again.

And yes, I may indeed have cast a fleeting glance towards the gorgeous presence of someone like Adrian but _this_ … this feeling was incomparable in context. Attraction, exacerbated by love, love further exacerbated by desire and desire placated further still with contentment. It should have never surprised me, to discover just how deeply in love with Hancock I had fallen. One look inside of my thumping heart was enough validation. There was nothing subtle to be found in my feelings; my flushed skin, quivering limbs and a smile that couldn’t help but thrust itself up into existence.

Underpinned ever more by the trailing stream of cold fear that wound through the subterranean corridors of my veins. Poised on the knowing that soon, I would see him reeling; shocked and devastated by the telling of this secret I had kept so long concealed from him.

Would he hate me for that? For my dishonesty? Or worse still; would he condemn me for my weakness? For permitting Marowski his abuses in the first instance? I couldn’t know. All I knew for certain was that I was about to cause this wonderful, blissfully content man, pain. And this was resentment enough to be getting along with for some time.

“We seem to be having a hard time staying away from each other, eh chicken?” Hancock mused, his smile crooking higher in the corners as he moved closer to my side. I tried a laugh; found it came a little easier than I had thought it would and was relieved.

“Yeah. This date is going to be _really_ anti-climactic at this stage.”

“With you and me there? Never. Oh, stumbled across a little something on the way over. Thought you might like it.” His smile grew all the more mischievous as he reached up into his hat, rustled amongst the little wooden carvings of baby Jesus and a watchful jersey cow and extracted finally, a strand of ribbon bound mistletoe. He slid his finger through one of the loops of the bow and used this to suspend the plant right above the crown of my head; grinning down at me with his other hand on his hip. Proud as a dog with a ten foot todger.

I eased my head back a little to stare at the mistletoe; smirking at the age old tradition of which I had plainly been remiss for some time.

“Why, my darling. Am I to assume that it is mistletoe that you dangle so alluringly above my head?”

“No. It’s a packet of instant pudding.” Hancock said, laughing as I rolled my eyes and smirked in response to his sarcasm. “Of _course_ it’s mistletoe, ya big nointer. And since ‘tis the season and all that…”

“What? To be jolly?” I asked, unable to deny the breathy susurration of his voice as he pressed closer to me. It still made me stutter a little; because he already possessed such a naturally sexy voice. When he purposefully added emphasis to it like this… that shit just _wasn’t_ fair. Thank God he hadn’t tried it before now, or I _would_ have jumped his bones probably a good year earlier.

“Or _make_ jolly, one or the other. Ho, ho, ho.” Hancock chuckled, eyes half-mast as he ducked his head down to slowly and laboriously press his lips against mine. With everything that had happened that day; everything I’d been forced to relive in so short a time, I was feeling more than a little vulnerable. And in desperate need for some tender, loving affection from the one person I knew cared for me more than any living soul in this world.

Giving in to the feelings, I reached up, wrapping my arm around John’s neck and sinking against him with a soft moan; deepening the kiss by permitting him access to the inside of my mouth. Our tongues touched gently; briefly, but the exchange was one more of tenderness than of desire. I felt his hand leave his hip and slide into the sway of my back; pulling me tighter against the firm, safe line of his body. God, he felt so _good._ I felt like nothing in this whole horrible world could get to me whilst he had his arms around me and his lips on mine. His fingers stroked me through the back of the gown before trailing up and caressing my upper back. He lingered on the strap of the hidden bra and sighed into our kiss; clearly disappointed that I had the girls covered up again.

“Fun while it lasted…” He whispered against my lips and I chuckled, giving his cheek a light, admonishing smack as we parted. I kept my arms twined about him and pressed my face to his chest; wanting to savour this feeling of being close and sheltered. Hancock clucked gently and petted the crown of my head.

“Well, aren’t _you_ being a right proper mooch, today?” He observed, tracing his fingers through my hair and then, after a brief pause, retracing his steps. I realized in an instant what had caught his attention and tried to step out of his embrace but he held me tighter. I could feel his eyes bearing down on the top of my head. “You’ve got a big old lump on the back of your scon here, Munch… Raider’s gift ya with this one?”

I cursed myself for being so silly. Of course, I couldn’t put off telling him what had happened forever but I’d at least wanted us to have a couple of minutes just to chill in each other’s presence.

“Tell ya in a minute.” I said, smiling gently as I reached up to gently pet the side of his cheek. He continued to stare at me, very intensely and I tried to think of something to change the subject. “Where’d you get the mistletoe from?”

Hancock quirked his lips faintly, clearly not buying into my attempt to distract him. But he answered all the same.

“Pattie was getting around with some of it hanging from the bauble of a santa hat.” He gestured now to the air above his own hat. “He used wire or something to make it perch there just over his head.”

I gave him a scolding look. “And you just went and took it off of him? Seems a bit mean.”

“And hardly in the holiday spirit.” Piper added, which sent the others to chuckling.

Hancock laughed and rolled his shoulders, unconcerned. “Nah, he gave it up when Ryan and I tried to give him a kiss. I think he’s on the hunt now for something he calls ‘gender specific’ mistletoe.” He snickered softly as his palm continued to make soothing, languid rotations against my lower back.  “Buu~uut that’s what you get for being a pretty boy in Goodneighbor.”

Meghan smirked as she waggled one of her perfectly filed fingernails in John’s direction. “As I’m sure _you_ would remember all too well, gorgeous.”

Hancock scoffed; clearly offended. “Oh, come on. I wasn’t nearly as girly as bloody _Pattie_.”

“Oh, you were pretty girly, if I remember right. All that curly blonde hair, long lashes, big blue eyes...” Meyer purred out a soft ‘oooh’ as he jiggled his shoulders, quirking both brows at Hancock in a way that made me feel a little dirty for witnessing it. “Such a th-weet little thing. Rather fancied you myself.”

Hancock pressed his tongue to the corner of his lips and rolled his eyes to the side; affecting, I suppose, a stereotypically fabulous gay man fending off the unwanted advances of a far uglier admirer.

“Honey, you could _never_ have gotten me.” He stated, turning to throw one cheeky wink back at the other Ghoul. “Not that you didn’t try with all those funny tasting drinks you kept making.”

“Yeah… ain’t never seen no one shake off the Brahmin tranquilizers the way _you_ did, _Capo_.” Meyer remarked innocently, which naturally sent us all to laughing again. I was enjoying the banter and would have liked for it to have continued in this fashion for as long as possible. Given what was quickly encroaching upon us.

“Wow, you sounded pretty hot back in the day.” Cait remarked, sipping from her second helping of the watermelon infused cocktail as she perched on the edge of the countertop. “Shame you had to go and fuck your looks up.”

“A lamentation frequently echoed by my mother. But thank the Lord for small favors; otherwise I’d be coppin’ it just as bad as Patrick right now.” Hancock mused, dropping his thumb down to stroke to the indent of my cheek and smiling softly from lips that were poised less than a bare inch from my own. “Not to mention that I’m lucky enough to have a beautiful girlfriend, who is blessed with the eyesight of a Molerat.”

“It’s true. You’re all just blurs to me. Half the time I don’t know if I’m kissing Hancock or making out with the cigarette machine.” I turned my head to the side and lowered my voice as though quietly admonishing myself. “I’m such a _slut_ …”

“Yeah but you’re _my_ slut.” Hancock chuckled as he leaned down to kiss my cheek. He turned then to look around at the collective sum of us. “So, has Meaghan talked you into buying any of her ridiculous underpants yet?”

Meaghan’s mouth dropped open in expected dramatic offense. “My underwear is _not_ ridiculous!”

Hancock raised a brow at her. “Really? Well, what would you call that little number that you made me for Christmas? Because as I seem to recall it was pretty fucking stupid, dear.”

Judging on the fact that Meyer was already laughing fit to bust by the counter, I could only imagine just how ridiculous the garment had been.

“Oh, that’s right. The Frosty the Snowman g-string…” Meyer managed to share between cackles, which quite naturally sent the rest of us along for the ride.

“Ooh, that sounds sexy.” I remarked, tapping my fingernail to the ridge of John’s nasal cavity in a way that I hoped was enticing. “Can you wear them tonight?”

Hancock snorted derisively. “I don’t fucking think so. It has a hole right there in the front where the nose should be. I’m assuming that’s where my dick is supposed to go?”

“Of course.” Meaghan said, obviously pretending to take the matter extremely seriously. Her smile however, told an entirely different story of what she was feeling inside. “That’s what makes the carrot.”

“Oh, for fucks sake…” Hancock groaned, retrieving his hand from around my waist so that he could press it hard to the lines of his forehead. “Now I can’t pretend to know what Meyer’s genitals look like, but if they do in fact resemble a carrot, might I suggest you get him to a doctor sometime soon? And yourself? Because fucking _ouch._ ”

“Must be eating too much food out of tins…” Meyer mused seriously. Hancock laughed and put on a pirate like accent.

“Ar, he be afflicted with the scurvy! And Pointy Penis syndrome, ta boot!”

“I don’t know why you’re getting so upset.” Meaghan insisted, playing the point for all it was worth. “I made those underpants as a gift!”

“Some gift. After all the support I’ve shown you in subsidizing this little joint of yours and the best you can come up with in return for my generosity, is a dirty pair of Christmas themed underpants. With big, off putting googly eyes.” John made a point then of adjusting the seat of his pants; as though he was in fact wearing the aforementioned g-string right at that moment. “Which chaff, mind you.”

“Oh my God…” I said, raising my voice so that I could be heard amidst everyone else’s renewed bouts of laughter. “I will pay you, like… every last cap in my pocket if you wear that thing tonight. Please, it would like make my life the most complete thing ever!”

Piper cocked her head at me; clearly questioning my sanity. “Seeing Hancock in a g-string is what it would take to make your life complete?”

“I have very humble aspirations.”

Hancock smiled at me. “No way, Munch. You’d just end up laughing yourself silly and that would be the end of the evening.”

“I wouldn’t laugh!” I insisted, though none too convincing as I tried then and there to hold back further giggles from erupting. “And besides; I think your bottom would look cute in a tiny snowman g-string.” I added, reaching around to pet my hand to John’s taut little butt.

“Wouldn’t be the first time he’s worn one; despite his protests.” Meyer uttered from the corner of his mouth. Hancock naturally heard and turned on him with a put upon expression.

“Jesus brother, that was over ten years ago! I was thirty-six and a smoothskin at the time. And desperate for caps.”

I felt my eyes widen; no doubt forming a stout comparison to the googly eyes of the Snowman g-string in the process. “And apparently pretty fucking confident! I’m on the cusp of turning thirty and I wouldn’t wanna be seen dancing about in a g-string.”

“Well, that firmly kills off one of _my_ dreams.” Hancock muttered, smirking as he brought his own hand back around to pat to _my_ backside. His touch however was firm and final. Looks like the jovialities were coming to an close. “ _Now_. Not that I’m not pleased just to have a chance to lock eyes on you again, Munchkin but there’s still a lot more stuff I need to get done before I can steal you away on our night of adventures.”

“Oh yes.” Piper remarked, as she sipped back the last tiny pink drops of her cocktail. “Haven’t had a chance to match your nails to your facepaint yet, I see.”

Hancock looked towards her seriously. “You know, there is a stall where they’re doing that. Thanks Reporter, I’ll see about amending that as soon as I’m done here.” His arms released their comforting hold about my body and he turned to perch himself up on the countertop; not dissimilarly to how Cait had parked her own butt and clapped his hands together emphatically. “So, what’s up?”

And at long last, the dreaded moment was here. I stalled a few seconds longer, trying to steady my heart and ease the shudders out of each breath I took. The wine and the cocktail had helped but there was nothing on earth; save the eternal stillness of death that could absolve the anxiety and fear that pilfered the depths of my soul at that moment.

“Well…” I said finally, gesturing towards where Hancock had only just perched himself. “I _was_ going to suggest that you might sit down first but you’ve already gone and beaten me to it…”

Hancock’s expression, which had been mostly serene up until that point, formed into one of genuine apprehension.

“Ah shit. Sounds like this is going to be serious.” He said, pausing for a moment before then glancing around at all the others that were gathered in the room. His eyes widened in alarm as a foul thought apparently seized his mind. “Hold on a minute; you’re not dumping me already are you?”

It was such a typically male thing with which to concern oneself with and so far from the truth besides, that I couldn’t hold back the burst of laughter that shot out of me. I mean, to see that look on his face… and to think that I could be so cruel as to gather all these people here to do something so humiliating to the poor guy!

“No! No of course not!” I chortled, holding a hand lightly to my chest as I forced my laughter back down. Hancock’s shoulders relaxed about a hair and I fancied that each of the nodules of his spine were now slowly sinking back into alignment with each other.

“Oh, good. ‘Cause that would have been a pretty mean thing to do after only a couple of hours of being official. And in front of all these witnesses too.” He cast an offhand, guarded look at Piper. “Including a Reporter…”

“No, it’s nothing like that. Nothing like that at all.” I affirmed, taking another sip of my cocktail and hoping that this one, amidst all of them, would finally have the instant soothing effect that all its predecessors lacked. With no such luck, I marshalled what guts I had and looked into John’s eyes as earnestly as possible. I felt my own mist over with tears instantly because I could barely look at him now without shame overwhelming me. “I just…” I swallowed down a lump in my throat which turned out to be the budding growth of a sob. “I just want you to know that… I love you. I love you so damn much. And I’m sorry… because you might not feel the same way after I’m done talking.”

From the corners of my cloudy vision, I sensed Hancock easing himself up off of the counter and coming towards me. I fancied I already knew the expression on his face; because I had known him to react to my tears in a particular way in the past. Caring and gentle; his eyes creased down in the corners and all pretext of being big and tough and above it obliterated in the presence of a woman’s fragility.

“Jesus Christ, baby… what’s all this about? Hey.” He murmured, pressing his palms to each of my shoulders and leaning down far enough so that he could stare directly up into my face. The fact that I turned away from his eyes would not have reassured him any. “Come on, don’t start talkin’ like that. Whatever’s happened, whatever you’ve got to say; it’s gonna be fine. I’m not just gonna go and fall out of love with like that. There’s not much you could ever do that would change how I feel about you.” He stroked his palm across my cheek and pressed a firm, lingering kiss to the buckled ridges of my forehead. It made me sob harder because I didn’t deserve his endearments, not when I was so weak and dishonourable.

“Take a deep breath.” He said, having let me sob and hiccup and carry on for a few moments longer than I’m sure most people would have patience for. He waited further still for me to relax and meet his eyes, giving me a long, gentle look in return. “Okay. Now… are you about to go and tell me that you’re a Synth? Because that seems to be where this is heading.”

Another one which made me laugh against my better judgement. I shook my head, reaching up to wipe my bleary eyes with the heels of my hands.

“No. No, I’m not a Synth. Nor am I possessed by the vengeful spirit of Bobbi-no-Nose or Deacon in a very clever and overly compromising disguise or…  pregnant with Mayor McDonough’s lovechild.”

“Thank fucking god for _that._ ” Hancock exclaimed and we both couldn’t resist a little chuckle at this. It hardly lightened the burden of what I still had to share but it was always a relief that in spite of everything John and I had been through, we could still keep our sense of humor.

“So, if you’re quite done jumping the gun with any number of weird, outrageous assumptions…” I stated, groaning softly to himself as I took another sip from the cocktail and found it almost empty. The shaker appeared almost as if levitated there by a convenient spirit and Hancock turned to utter ‘Thanks, darlin’’ to Meaghan as she refreshed my glass. I took another gulp; sucking it around my mouth as if to work out every last iota of alcohol from the liquid before sending it south to my stomach. “Oh God, where do I even start…?”

Hancock gently squeezed my arm. “From the beginning of… whatever it is that you need to tell me, I suppose.” He turned and raked the room with his eyes, happening upon Meyer’s chair behind the counter and he gestured to it. “Why don’t you come and sit down yourself?”

I waved the offer away. “I’d uh… rather keep standing. But you sit down, please. It helps if I can… you know. Look at you across the room.”

“Whatever works for you, darlin’.” Hancock said, knowing me well enough to understand that it was best not to question my weird ways but to simply roll with them. He trotted back over to perch on the counter and folded his hands together, waiting patiently to hear what I had to say. Before I could start I heard Fahrenheit pinch a whistle from between her teeth and Meyer glanced over to acknowledge the apparent summons.

“Hey, Fireman? Get the man a drink.” She said, turning towards the assistant and customers in the shop and jerking a thumb pointedly over her shoulder towards the door. They got the message and quickly hurried out; chatting irritably to each other as they went. “Something strong. Think he’ll be needing it.”

This just made Hancock look all the warier, though he accepted the glass that Meyer passed to him; holding it steady whilst the fellow Ghoul sloshed something dark brown and undoubtedly strong into the depths of it. I gestured with my finger for him to fill it up a little more and when Hancock could eventually take a sip, he had plenty left in his reserves.

Meaghan shifted her weight from hip to hip; full lips pursed and looking somewhat uncomfortable. She pointed between Hancock and I with a finger from the hand that she kept curled stalwartly about her martini glass.

“Look; is this… something you kids need to be alone for or…?”

“No… it’s fine. So far as… I’m concerned at least.” I said, turning to Fahrenheit for further clarification. She was in the midst of pulling the shops doors shut; ensuring I think that I would at least have some privacy and protection from anyone who wasn’t currently present in the room. After making certain that they weren’t likely to be thrown open without considerable effort, she turned back to face the rest of us; easing out a defeated sounding sigh as she crossed her arms and leaned back against the frame of the doorway.

“All gonna be out in the open soon anyhow.” She established, looking none too pleased for the fact and even less when Hancock stared over at her; suspicious and questioning. “Meaghan and Meyer were gonna always know about this anyway. And what point is there to continue hiding the information from your friends?”

“Hiding _what_ information?” Hancock queried, frowning as he leaned forward off of the counter top, casting glances back and forth between Fahrenheit and myself. I held up a hand to encourage quiet on his part.

“Please, John. Just let me… work through this the only way I know how.” I said, taking a deep breath in and stealing yet another slurp from my cocktail. It was hard to know where to begin, so I settled upon what I found the easiest to talk about: Marowski having walked in on the girls and I in the bathroom. I referred back to the lump on my head; explaining how he had startled me so that I had tripped and fallen, striking my head on the dividing wall of the shower block. Hancock blinked at me the whole time; near expressionless if not for the disbelieving line his brow ridges had formed above his eyes.

“He was saying the most horrid things about her.” Piper contributed, pressing her own long since finished glass to her chest as she gazed towards the ground. Just as concerned, I think, for all those missing pieces that would soon fall into place to reveal the bigger picture. “Stuff that… well…”

Hancock’s lips had pressed together to form a line so straight and sharp it reminded me of a knife strike through the skin of a melon. His fingers clenched tight to the glass and I was frightened that in his anger he might inadvertently shatter it and cut himself. For a long while he was quiet, chewing over what I had told him the way that a lion might ‘chew’ the neck of an animal it fully intended to later devour. I thought this alone would be enough to send him surging off of the counter; back out through the doors and full steam ahead into the _Hotel Rexford._ But to my surprise, he remained seated. He sipped from his glass, peered off to the side with his pink painted jaw visibly clenched to straining point and then turned ever so slightly to bring his gaze back towards me.

“What’s the whole story, Eve?” He finally asked and I was astonished that even in his unmistakable fury, he still possessed the intuition and intelligence to hold off on taking action until he was in possession of all the facts. It was something about him I had always admired, though he had not always been nearly so consistent in his practice of it.

I nodded as I dropped my eyes back down to my glass; rotating it slowly between both hands, which encircled its borders like a life raft.

“John… honey, do you remember how I told you about that big robbery I was involved with? Back when I first got to Diamond City? Right before I met you?”

He nodded slightly; an effort it seemed, given how taut and terse his entire body now was.

“Yeah… you and Paul Pembroke and Henry Cooke. You… intercepted a Chem shipment?”

I inclined my head, biting the corner of my lip as I forced myself to be brave and meet his eyes. He deserved this much from me; in exchange for how I had misled and effectively handled him this past year.

“I told you it was a transaction between Gunners and Raider’s but that was a big pork-pie on my part.” I sipped from my glass again and I wished that the sweet liquid didn’t suddenly taste so sour in my mouth. “In reality, the deal was between some little Diamond City upstart called Nelson Latimer and… Theodore Marowski.”

One of John’s brow ridges quirked up independently of the other. Something about this fact, more than anything else was significant to him it seemed.

“Marowski was… trading Chems outside of Goodneighbor?” He asked, tilting his head at me in a clear bid for further clarification of my statement. “To someone from _Diamond City_?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I stated, using the sleeve of the robe I was wearing to wipe at a sticky fingerprint I had left on the side of my glass. It was a good distraction from how horribly painful the pounding of my heart had become. “I think he was… selling them at a profit. Since the Mayors’ office takes a cut of the Chem trade in Diamond City. Ya know, sell ‘em cheap, pocket the difference…”

“I know how it works. Go on.” Hancock said curtly and I was a little cut by his tone. I reminded myself that it was only out of his more insistent concern for my welfare in this whole matter that he was hurrying me along and tried not to take it too personally.

“Well… I didn’t know Marowski from Adam at the time. And I was desperate for money. Desperate enough to… get involved. It was… stupid.” The tremors worsened and so too did what tiny control I had over my emotions. I succumbed to tears once more and tilted my head back towards the ceiling; trying in vain to keep those pointless, offensive emotions at bay. “So stupid. We killed… everyone involved except for one woman. A Ghoul called Trish.”

Hancock nodded thoughtfully. “I know Trish. She’s in tight with Marowski. Second pretty much only to Stan.”

“So’s the impression I got.” I stated, slowly easing my glass back towards my face so that I could take a sip without shaking the contents all over the place. “Henry Cooke said we needed to kill all the witnesses; so that this shit didn’t come back to bite us in the ass later. But Trish gave us some information on Marowski’s Chem lab; where there were supplies enough to double our profit margin. And I gave Trish my _word_ that if she gave up the password and the technique required to access the lab, that we wouldn’t kill her.” I shrugged, thinking myself very stupid and hearing a huff from Fahrenheit which suggested she very much agreed with my internal critique. “Henry still tried but I… held him off so she could get away. He wasn’t happy about it, but he’d decided to get his ass out of the Commonwealth anyway. So, he was pretty much safe from retribution as it was.”

“But… I’m guessing it came back to bite you and Paul on the ass?” Hancock said with a soft, knowing look which made me feel inexperienced and foolish all over again. One big fat Muncher, through and through.

I shook my head. “I don’t know about Paul. But it came back to bite _me_ on my big stupid ass, yeah. Pretty damn hard.”

“I thought something about your story was off.” Hancock mulled to himself, staring thoughtfully off into the middle distance as he rotated the glass of ‘something strong’ between his fingers. “That second day you were in Goodneighbor, with those bruises all over your face… You told me some… _bullshit_ story about falling down the stairs in the Third Rail. I didn’t think it added up… you would have most likely lost a tooth if you face planted on those steps…”

“Don’t be hard on her.” Fahrenheit piped up, speaking from behind her wall of customary cigarette smoke. I fancied she liked to hide herself away inside whenever shit got too real; like a squid disappearing into a cloud of its own ink. “That was _my_ bullshit story.”

Hancock looked at her in confusion, forcing her to pretty much elaborate then and there.

“I… asked her to be discreet about what happened.”

Now he simply looked all the more bewildered and pitched glances back and forth between us like a spectator at a vigorous and evenly matched game of tennis.

“But… but why? _What_ exactly happened to you?” He leaned forward, jabbing his index finger into his knee and speaking to me in the manner not dissimilar to that of a parent admonishing their child. “I _told you_ that if _anyone_ made trouble for you, that you should come to _me._ And given that it’s been about a year, I don’t see why you couldn’t have mentioned anything before now, Eve.”

His tone did nothing to help assuage my feelings of stupidity and helplessness and I looked away from him; afraid that if I continued to make eye contact, I would collapse so completely it would be a miracle if I was ever able to bring myself to my feet again.

“Did he beat you?” Hancock pressed, unable to permit my silence for all the terrible secrets that it continued to veil from him. He attacked it, in the very same forthright manner he dealt with most things that displeased him; without mercy. “Threaten you into being quiet? What?”

I struggled to answer but I couldn’t seem to put words to it. All I could feel was the pain of it, the memory rising up out of the depths of me from where I had so long hidden it away. My hand pressed to my stomach; guarding the aching that had once lain siege to it and Hancock’s eyes widened as he came to a conclusion all on his very own.

“You were… _limping_ …” He whispered and with such trepidation in his tone that it wrenched sobs from me. Because I could feel the fear in him then. And the desperate, aching desire to be wrong this once in his usually ever so accurate predictions.

“You told me… you were having… woman’s problems.” He said, his voice thick and gathering the weight of grief further by the second. “And I stopped asking. I didn’t want to embarrass you…”

“I _was_ embarrassed.” I sobbed, wiping at my eyes and feeling a strange, burst of relief that I had chosen not to reapply my makeup. Oh, the mess it would have made of me _now._ “There’s no lie in that.”

Hancock shot to his feet and I saw in the quavering waves that danced across my eyes, an expression staring back at me that was wrought between barely contained fury and overwhelming fear. He slammed his glass so hard to the table that the contents leapt up; soaking his hand and forming puddles all over the countertop. I thought again of the burgundy bottle rolling off of the edge of Marowski’s desk… the soft glug as its insides burbled out onto the floorboards…

“ _What did he do, Eve?_ ” Hancock hissed and I knew for certain that I had never heard him speak in such a tone before. It was the scariest voice I had ever heard in my life.

“It was… because I _destroyed_ that Chem lab of his.” I said, passing my eyes back away from his face so that the pain of his expression wouldn’t further cripple me. His voice was powerful enough on its own. “Fahrenheit suspects it… set something off in him. Because it’s happened before, in the past? I owe… _owed_ a massive monetary debt.”

“How much?”

“Five thousand caps.” I sniffed, staring down at the floor. It sounded stupid, especially to someone like Hancock who had caps more than likely coming out the whazoo. Five thousands caps would have been _nothing_ to him. “More money than I could ever pay back. At least in the time he was asking.”

“How long did he give you?”

“A week. Told me if I left town I’d have… Triggermen hunting me and the others down until I repaid the debt.” I turned back to look at him; eyes streaming tears but needing him to see the desperation and fear that no doubt continued to echo within them. I appealed to him for understanding; though I certainly had no right in receiving it. “I couldn’t risk it, John… I just couldn’t… I was so scared. Scared and fucking stupid!”

“So… what… what are you saying?” John asked, his voice trembling now as fear and sorrow took precedence over the rage that until now had been so dominant. It must have been my eyes; because there could be no faking what he must have seen in them. “What _happened?_ ”

I choked on my words, hating myself as much for my weakness now as I had back then. “I… I _let_ him…”

“You… _let him… what?_ ”

He was stalling for time. Stalling for another explanation when there was none. Desperate for there to be yet another truth that we had failed to appreciate. Silence was his only answer, for everyone in the room was as painfully aware of it as he was, though more willing to accept it for the simple fact that they didn’t love me the way that he did. It meant somewhat less to them to learn that I was weak and soiled and _spoiled_.

I had my head turned away from John, unable to look at him as the information unwittingly sunk into the stubborn nodes of his brain. From the corner of my eyes, I could see Meaghan. She was pacing, chewing at the corner of her thumbnail. Restless and distracted.

“He took… a thousand caps off for it.” I established, turning back towards John because he had been silent for far too long. His own eyes lifted up from where they had been staring towards the ground. They were glazed and unseeing.

“For _it?_ What exactly is _it,_ Eve?”

“John, please…” I whimpered, pressing my glass tight to my chest and tilting my head away but Hancock was as merciless as always. I could see that he was struggling with his emotions and to keep his infamous temper in check must have been nothing short of a monumental feat.

“Eve – I know.” He agreed, gesturing towards me purposefully with one of his hands. “I _know_ I shouldn’t ask but… I need to know.”

I turned back towards him; feeling a tight flush of anger surge through me.

“ _Why_ do you need to know? What purpose does it serve you to know?”

He met my eyes and I could see his own anger now; not entirely drowned out but poised ready and waiting right behind the gates of his self-control. Waiting to be unleashed.

“Because I need to know how angry to be about this.”

I groaned, gulping down the last of my drink in one go and pulling the robe tighter to myself. I didn’t want to answer; mainly because a part of me suspected that some of this anger he wished to direct towards me. Indeed, there was something in his words that suggested he wanted to hurt me a little; perhaps he felt betrayed somehow. But recognizing above the childish impulse that he didn’t know all the facts as of yet.

“Did he… take you up to bed?” He asked, the corners of his eyes angling down as sorrow took precedence again. “Spend the night with you? Get you to… _suck him off_ , what?”

I didn’t reply. Couldn’t reply because I could feel the tipping point welling up inside of me. For Hancock to assume that I had been a willing, able participant in my exchange with Marowski. To even suggest that I had behaved like some sort of slut? This was a man who always professed to have such unequivocal trust in me but now he stared at my face as though it had morphed into that of a stranger. A stranger he had no respect for.

“Did you… enjoy it?” He said and it was at this point that I lost it. Everything I had kept secreted away and stored inside for that long year came hurtling out; raw and unfiltered.

“ _No._ ” I snarled and with more venom in my tone than I had ever directed at John in all the time I had known him. Because in spite of the fact that I resented myself for what I had permitted Marowski, I would _not_ allow Hancock to believe that I had taken pleasure in it. “ _No,_ I _didn’t_ fucking enjoy it! It was the worst –” I broke apart at the seams, sobbing and clenching my arms to myself; feeling like if I were to let go, my soul would shake itself into unsalvageable pieces. “– it was the worst experience of my entire fucking _life_!!”

“Oh, Evie.” Cait whispered, her arms going about my middle as she pressed her forehead to my shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

But I continued surging ahead, on a tangent now that couldn’t be halted until I had purged every last drop of poison from my system. “The bastard _grabbed me by the hair, John!!_ Just after you left – that same night you made the drink for me, down at the bar in the Hotel Rexford! He _dragged_ me into the room behind the counter – bashed my head into the wall, punched me in the stomach. He…” I hiccupped a little, cleared my throat and continued. “He… truly made me believe that I couldn’t repay the debt… that his Triggermen would hunt me until the day I died. Maybe kill everyone I was travelling with. Kill me. Kill _Shaun_ one day...” I sobbed with a deeper desperation than I could ever describe; the pain of hating both Marowski and myself. Searing bile constantly through my guts; ulcerating every corner of my being. Every night my body and mind _ached._ “I was so… _scared_! I didn’t… I didn’t know what to do. So I… I just _let him._ Not like I had much fight left after he started beating me though. I guess I got _that_ much of an excuse.” I whipped my arm to the side, letting it all out. Wanting Hancock to know, so that he could possess not a snifter of a doubt as to what my feelings had been that night. “He touched me… stuck his tongue in my mouth, slapped me and threw me face first onto his desk-”

John’s hand was covering his eyes and he looked all but set to collapse himself. He waved at me, his voice weak.

“Eve… I’m sorry – please _stop, please…”_

“No, I won’t.” I hissed, looking to him now beyond the point of mercy. Wanting _him_ to understand, so that hating me would be difficult, at least. “ _You_ wanted to know how angry to be? Well, I’m _telling_ you, how angry to be.” I slapped my hand to my chest. “No preparation, _nothing._ He fucked me ‘til I was bleeding and crying and begging for him to stop. And then he fucked me up the ass for good measure. And you know what else?” I glared at Hancock in silence until he took his hand away from his eyes and looked at me. Then I continued. “He took _pictures_ of me, John. He made a fucking mess of me, made me cry and scream and beg for mercy and he took _goddamn pictures._ ” I sobbed again and Cait’s arms tightened harder about me. “And I was so goddamned ashamed… because I didn’t fucking fight back. I’m so… I’m so fucking _pathetic_ …”

“You’re not pathetic.” Hancock said emotionally and my sobs only deepened from my relief in hearing him say such a thing. I wanted to believe him _so_ bad, so that I could stop hating myself for this. “You hear me? You are NOT pathetic!” His arm jabbed towards the door, eyes wet and bordered my tears that I think he had only barely been able to fight away in his desire to preserve strength in the face of my failing sanity. “That bastard… that fucking bastard _raped_ you. That is _not_ your fault!”

I sank to the floor, my knees having nothing left in them to keep me standing and I rocked, the stem of the glass still pinched between both hands. I shook my head; hard and furious, not buying into his words.

“It… wasn’t rape. I just… _I didn’t fight back… I was so scared… I didn’t know what to do…_ ”

Hancock stood over me; his gaze as firm and as resolute in his convictions as the words he next spoke.

“He backed you into a corner; made you feel like there was no other way out.” He slammed the side of one of his hands into the palm of the other. “He _forced_ you through _threats_ and _fear_ ; that’s no _different_ to being physically forced, Eve! It’s still fucking _rape!!_ ”

I sobbed, continuing to shake my head as Piper dropped down to wrap her arms around me from the other side. It didn’t make any sense… I’d _let_ Marowski do what he did. If it was rape; I’d have a way out of this terrible guilt that had haunted me this past year. But I knew it couldn’t be, because I _knew_ that if I had wanted to, I could have fought back. There was no shame in being a victim of course but I _could_ have fought back…

“No… no… no it’s not… it’s not… he _didn’t_ …”

I felt the press of Hancock’s palms to my cheeks and I stared into his eyes as he sank to his knees on the floor before me.

“You should have come to _me._ ” He sobbed and the pain in my heart only worsened to know that I had driven him to this. He shook my face; not painfully but with enough force to keep my attention. “Goddamn it, we’re _partners_ and you hid this from me! _Why_ didn’t you come to _me?_ Why didn’t you tell me?! I would’ve killed the bastard on the spot if I’d known!!”

“Because…” Fahrenheit said, drawing Hancock’s heartbroken and desperate attention towards her. “Because I begged her not to.”

He looked to her with an even deeper sense of confusion than he had previously possessed and she sighed; staring off to the side as she bobbed her cigarette between her lips.

“I found her. After Marowski… did that number on her. Took her to Doctor Amari got her patched up. Put a story together. Made her understand why she needed to keep quiet.”

Hancock’s hands slipped away from my face as he climbed back to his feet. I could feel the anger and ferocity coming off of him like waves and I wouldn’t have wanted to be in Fahrenheit’s shoes for all the world.

“You mind explaining to _me,”_ Hancock hissed, his voice dropping to its most dangerous low yet. _“_ Why you felt it so imperative to keep the truth a secret?” His finger thrust back towards me as his emotion once again crashed across his anger with a force more powerful than that of a tsunami. “Why you allowed this disgusting, mongrel bastard to get away with _brutalizing_ the woman that I love?!”

“You didn’t love her at the time, Hancock.” Fahrenheit stated bluntly. Which was a cold but true fact and one he could hardly dispute. “She was… just a girl. And she’s… She’s not the only one. Not by a long shot.”

I couldn’t see John’s face from where I knelt but I could hear from the tone of his voice just what this awful clarification had done to him. In so many more facets than just the knowing of it. To realize, in that moment, just how many potential women had been victimized in Goodneighbor, under _his_ watch. And him none the wiser to it.

“No…” He moaned, his voice wracked with so much pain that it broke my heart. But Fahrenheit, to her credit, didn’t back down in her part from the whole affair and continued to outline what information I had been unable to communicate myself.

“Marowski has power over the Triggermen and the Triggermen are _powerful_ , John. You _know_ this.” She reinforced, though from the way that John had started pacing about the room; I could see he was beyond the point of giving a shit. “You’ve tiptoed around them yourself when need be, rather than risk a head on conflict with them. Taking out Marowski would do just _that._ ”

“You don’t _get_ to decide that, Fahrenheit!!” Hancock roared and I can’t imagine a single person in the room had ever bared witness to such a thing. This was a man who could scare the shit out of Raider’s just by whispering to them from around a corner. To hear him cut loose like this was fucking terrifying. He was beyond the point of all control. “ _I’m_ the goddamn MAYOR, in case it suits you to forget!! Me! And you’re telling me now, that all this _shit_ has been going on, underneath my fucking nose for – what – _YEARS_?! And you’ve been playing me for a goddamn _FOOL_?!”

“You’re not a fool.” Fahrenheit stuttered and it was a testament to just how unusual Hancock’s outburst was, that it could upset the intrinsic level of control this woman managed to consistently maintain. “The risk was just-”

Hancock cut her off in dramatic fashion; by picking up his forgotten glass of ‘something strong’ and pitching it against the doorway beside her. I don’t know if he had actually been aiming for her or not but either way, it was scary as hell. She managed to duck away in time and the glass exploded everywhere; sending shards shooting out in all directions and splattering the door and surrounding floor with liquid. There was a cacophony of intermingled gasps and shrieks in response; all of which Hancock ignored as he ploughed straight for the door itself. He grabbed Fahrenheit by the shoulder, jerking her around so that they were almost face to face. It should have been funny, given the pink butterfly mask but there was nothing humorous in Hancock’s expression.

“Fuck you and your risks. And fuck Marowski.” He whispered, his voice menacing as he all but shoved her off of her feet and yanked open the right hand door. “If he thinks he’s getting away with this, he’s got another goddamn thing coming.”

“Christ, this is exactly what I’ve been talking about. Hancock!” Fahrenheit yelled but he paid her no mind, striding out through the doorway and into the deeper red of the afternoon. It looked as though the light itself was bleeding out, which seemed a fitting thing for the close of such a day as this.

Fahrenheit went to follow but was stalled in her tracks by Meyer, who had, at some point, hopped the counter and thrown his axe over his shoulder. He flashed Fahrenheit a dark look; clearly on side with Hancock as he crunched through trails of broken glass to reach the door.

“Meyer!” Meaghan called out, her voice shaking as she reappeared above the countertop with a dustpan and broom in hand. “Honey, please don’t get involved-”

Meyer leaned back in the doorway and looked to his wife with an expression that I hadn’t seen on his face before. Like a… wolf. One which was answering the call of the hunt.

“Stay inside ‘til we get back.” He instructed, going to pull the door shut but prevented from doing so right away as Fahrenheit ducked through the gap, cursing the whole while. I remained where I was; crouched on the floor, sobbing beyond the point of shame as Piper and Cait did what they could to hold me together. Meaghan’s heels clicked as she crossed the room to sweep up the mess of glass that Hancock had made and I stumbled back onto my feet; attempting to take the dustpan out of her hand.

“No, Meaghan please. I’ll take care of it.” I said, but she held tight to the implements; refusing to relinquish her hold on them. Her smile was gentle however, as she passed her palm over the crown of my head.

“It’s all right, honey. I got it.” She said and I sobbed harder still, dropping to my knees and reaching out to pluck up what larger shards of glass up I could find.

“I’ll help.” I insisted, ignoring the tiny cuts the slivers of glass left to my fingers; feeling it as a sort of penance for the trouble I had caused.  I gathered what I could into my hand, the tips stained red. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault… All your customers are going to get glass in their feet now and no one will wanna come back and-”

“Well, they shouldn’t be coming into my shop with bare feet in the first place.” Meaghan reasoned and I laughed at the obviousness of this factor. “It might be Goodneighbor but we still got _somethin’_ of a dress standard. Least in _my_ shop. Now, hand me that there glass and go and sit down.”

“I can’t…” I murmured, looking around the floor for more of the glass I could pick up. Desperate for something that was within my power to remedy. I could sweep up the smaller shards if Meaghan handed over the dustpan and broom but she wouldn’t… she _wouldn’t._ And I could feel the shattered segments of my own mind drift apart further still, as it occurred to me so completely that no matter what I took control of; the camp fire, the cookpot, my appearance, my makeup, my sex-life… _nothing_ would fix what was so intrinsically broken at my very core. Upon which every other subsequent facet of my existence balanced; precarious upon a splintering foundation.

I had no control.

Marowski _had_ raped me. And this _wasn’t_ my fault.

But it wasn’t this realization alone that caused me to clutch my bloodied fingers to my face as grief dragged me down into the abyss once more.

It was for Hancock and for Goodneighbor that I wept. Because in his love for me, John might have short-sightedly walked right into the very trap that Marowski had set for him.

And I didn’t care. Because I _wanted_ him to go after Marowski. I wanted the man that I loved to avenge me. To make the bastard bleed and cry and beg for his life. Worse than Finn. Worse than all those insane, murderous bastards of the Rolling Ranch.

And I felt so very small for it.

And so very thirsty for blood.

 

> **~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! If you managed to make it this far without giving up; well done! I salute you!!
> 
> It was a long haul I know and I'm sorry it's taken forever to get here. I just really wanted to establish some background stuff as well. Now I hope the follow chapters can work towards getting a bit more sexy. In a consensual, loving, Hancock with no clothes on kind of way.
> 
> As usual, please take care of yourselves if you've found any of the content of these chapters to be distressing. There are some pretty heavy themes that I deal with at times but I still hope that I can remain sensitive to the subject matter enough to not make it seem exploitative. Or that I'm not respecting the trauma based aspects enough. I assure you, this is very far from the truth. There is a degree of understanding and utmost respect for these things. I believe however in demonstrating a characters strength and perseverance by showing just HOW they have overcome the shit they have been through. Hence the attention to detail at times. The immense OVERBEARING detail. Painful, I know but that's me.
> 
> And now my lovelies, I must confess that I am terribly fecking exhausted and I must away now to drink my customary, celebratory Ruby Pinot before I away to bed. Ah, sweet blissful slumber. Of which my husband is already partaking. Smug bastard.
> 
> Please feel free to kudos, comment, email or offer a sacrifice if it pleases my darlings to do so. I am partial to small fluffy puppies and ducklings (Not to eat. I just want them poured onto me whilst I lay inert at the bottom of an inflatable pool) cheese fondues and sexy naked men in Snowman G-strings. If all of the above seem far too exhausting, (and there is a noticeable lacking of puppies, ducklings and G-string clad men in your postcode) just sling up your feet, have a read and take some time away from the world for a while. You guys deserve it :)
> 
> Many love, much pleasings and looking forward to seeing you all in the next chapter! After I am properly recovered and have slept for the approximation of five full days!
> 
> All my love  
> ~MadamMortis~ xxx ooo


	15. Hindsight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My hands were still a little wet from where I had them in the bucket, so I set my cup down and gave them a quick wipe on my jacket before gently wrapping my arms around her too. God, she felt so good. It reminded me of the first time we had embraced. A moment that had taken me by surprise. The moment I had decided that I wanted her no matter what it took; how big a fool it made me, how far and wide across the Commonwealth I would have to travel. I felt the soft press of her breasts through the front of her long johns, the angles of her back and the muscles shifting as she pulled herself tighter to me. I felt her kindness and her strength and her endless, never ceasing compassion. ..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my freaky darlings!  
> I've already written this the once, so forgive me if it's a little short and sharp this time but as usual I must apologize for my great delay. My reasons however (without beseeching sympathy from anyone) are extremely valid. I was hospitalized early last month due to burn out from my job and have spent the following month recovering from a very severe state of depression. I wasn't able to write and barely able to get out of bed. So, naturally, everything kind of fell out from underneath me. Not to mention that just days prior to this collapse, my husband and I adopted our four legged puppy; who is currently teething and requires a great deal of maintenance and support, so that's been taking up a great deal of my time too.
> 
> All I can do, is thank all of you as always for your patience and apologize for not delivering the chapter I would have loved to have presented to you. This is really just filler and whilst I always intended to deliver this chapter to you guys, I was hoping to get to the real crux of Hancock going over Marowski. Same as you guys. I'm sorry but I just wasn't able to complete it this time around. But I did complete this chapter and now that I am feeling properly recovered, I know that I can get that next one to you and hopefully reward you even more for your patience.
> 
> This chapter is quite light hearted though, so hopefully you guys will get a smile from it and at least get to see some of the deepening of Hancock and Eve's relationship. Not to mention certain things relate to events coming up, so I did need to make certain I got it in there.
> 
> Also, while I was recovering free_hugs_from_ghouls got me involved in Tumblr. I've sort of been using it as a diary site and where I intend to hopefully keep you guys informed about the progress of the Collision Principle and post screenshots and updates, that sort of thing. Feel free to check it out to monitor progress if you like. Just look up my email: madammortis@outlook.com and you should find me. It was so nice and easy to just be involved in while I was on the mend and this way, maybe you guys can get an actual look at Evie :)
> 
> FYI: I'm sorry about the formatting for this chapter. My husband updated our Office account to whatever the most recent one is and nothing I do seems to make the chapter format the way I want to. I've tried every which way but NOTHING seems to be working. If anyone knows how I can get things back to normal, please tell me. I had emphasis on a lot of words in this chapter and it's all been lost because I can't edit anything anymore.
> 
> Thanks again my loves for your patience and though I'm sure it's not what you wanted, I do hope that you get some small enjoyment from the chapter. I shall see you on the other side!

> _“The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die. As well the minds which are prevented from changing their opinions; they cease to be mind.”_  
>  **― Friedrich Nietzsche**
> 
> **John Hancock**

**Six months ago… The Commonwealth…**

**~**

“You just don’t… strike me as the kind of girl to have a hidden rebellious streak.”

“I’ve been rebellious.”

I flashed Eve an unconvinced look as I finished topping up her wine glass and her eyes widened defensively in response.

“I _have_!”

“Must have blinked and missed that one.” I answered with a smile. I was still getting to know Eve at this point in time and whilst we had managed to get much closer in the space of six months than I had most other people I’d crossed paths with, there was still so much more unravelling to be done. There were certain aspects of her character however, that I had most certainly gotten a good bead on. Such as the fact that she was a gentle, noble person who always tried to do the right thing. In the most square shaped method if possible.

“Ha. You weren’t even a twinkle in your great-great-great… great… Grandfather’s eye when I went through my rebellious streak.” She snorted derisively, taking a sulky impudent slurp of her wine. “You weren’t even the forethought of a _sperm_.”

“Ah, so what you’re saying is that I’ve had less time to be rebellious and yet I’m still running circles around _your_ ancient ass.”

She lashed out with her slippered foot, striking me square in the side of the thigh. “I’m preserved, not ancient, you shameless little slut. Like a fine wine. Getting better with the passing of every year.”

“No one’s gonna wanna be drinking two-hundred-year-old wine, toots. Shit turns to vinegar after a while.”

“I’d tip my drink on you right now if it wasn’t so bloody good.”

We shared a laugh as I passed the stub of the Chark rollie over to her and she paused to suck back a deep drag. Nick shot a disapproving glance from over by the shack’s steps but I don’t think Eve noticed. Or perhaps she just didn’t think to concern herself with it. We were already in trouble for getting into a fight earlier and perhaps Eve assumed that he was still annoyed for that reason.

It had been a play fight, true but Eve tended to fight a little rough. Whilst I just tickled and wrestled and tried to pin her down, she would actually lay into me with punches and scratches. Sometimes she would even bite.

I enjoyed our fights; namely because I got to roll around and get all up and close with a woman I desperately fancied. I also got off a bit on the aches and pains she left behind; a sweet sort of pain, with lingering bruises and stinging scratches that didn’t sway me so much as excite me. Sometimes it was very difficult not to let this excitement show and this was usually when I would be forced to roll over and submit; so that Eve wouldn’t become aware of the effect that our fight was having on me. Didn’t hurt that it gave me a good look down the front of her shirt, either.

It had become something of a regular occurrence; given that the two of us were very playful and flirty with one another. Most of the others could see the appeal so far as I was concerned and we had been advised on more than one occasion to ‘get a room’. That night however, Nick had been intensely focused on trying to get a fire burning from kindling that was a little to the far side of damp. I had been poking and prodding at Eve, who was in the midst of preparing some Tato’s for the stew she planned to put together. After a while she got sick of my teasing and smashed a Tato right into my cheek, sending the juices splattering halfway across my face and down my neck. She tried to get up and run away and that’s when I pounced; hugging her in against my chest and pulling her into a mad crocodile roll about the camp. ‘God, you two are disgusting!’ I’d heard Piper comment from somewhere nearby but we hadn’t let the criticism put us off. We started scuffling; trying pin each other’s arms down, with Eve smacking and laying ‘gentle’ punches into my side, laughing all the while as dust and dirt and twigs and autumn leaves flew up around us. Dogmeat danced about nearby, barking at the two of us with either concern or jealousy. MacCready, Deacon and Cait were taking bets on the outcome. And it seemed as though the odds were not in my favour.

I think all the combination of noises must have been working Nick’s last nerve (or at least, whatever equivalent the old circuit board has for nerves) because not half a minute in, he turned on us and yelled, “Would you two knuckleheads cut it out?!” Eve’s muscles instantly slackened and if she’d had a tail, I’m certain it would have been tucked firmly between her legs. Though I didn’t put much stock in a reprimand from Valentine, Eve was clearly more sensitive to a scolding from him and with a stout apology, immediately crawled back over to resume her task of washing and slicing Tato’s. I lent her a hand, mirroring Nick’s own expression of disconcertment as he turned his attention back to the ever more resistant coals of the fire. Guy could be such a fucking spoilsport.

So, I’m glad Eve wasn’t paying much attention to him now. Dinner was over of course and with eating tins dried and stacked away, so too were her responsibilities for the night. We’d all had a few drinks round what remained of the fire before I eventually managed to lure her away for a puff of Chark and some more intimate conversation.

Though he hadn’t come right out and said anything, I suspect that the closeness that was developing between Eve and myself was worrying to Nick. I suppose he did know enough of my ways to suspect that my intentions weren’t altogether noble. And Nick was nothing if not protective. I noticed that he kept casting glances our way as though concerned that if he took his eyes off of us for one moment that I would lure Eve off into the darkness to have my wicked way with her.

Which, to be fair, was probably a valid concern.

Eve made a big show of waving the blunt about as she slowly exhumed fumes from the corner of her mouth.

“You see?” She said, drifting her fingertips through the curls of smoke as a point of reference. “Here I am, sucking back the Chems with the big bad Mayor of Goodneighbor. If that isn’t a sign of being rebellious-”

“We’re about to go to bed.” I pointed out, taking the rollie back and pulling back a hit myself. “It’s not like we’re getting high so we can party on into the night, doing Mentats off a gal’s tits and injecting Med-X between our toes. Puffin’ a joint is hardly in the nature of rebellion in this day and age, sister.”

Eve’s eyes widened in wonder and her mouth dropped open a little. “Oh my God… I _totally_ have the right sort of tits to balance Mentats on! Well… the right kinds of nipples anyway.”

“Well hey now, maybe there’s a hope for tonight after all.” I said, trying not to let the image get lodged in my brain and failing spectacularly.

She giggled cheerfully as she glugged back from her wine again. “No, I can’t actually do that! What sort of message would that send to Shaun once I get him out of the Institute? That his mama was acting like a raging trashbag when she was supposed to be rescuing him? Nope, Mommy’s most absolutely do _not_ do Chems, break the law or party into the night. And we most definitely don’t have sex.”

I dropped my mouth open and flared my eyes as wide as they would go; a study in pure astonishment. “Well, some mother _you_ are then, because I seem to recall that you’ve broken all those rules these past couple of months! Sans that last one but hey, you wave the flag and I’ll roll on over during the night and sort that little transgression out.”

“Don’t bother. I wear a chastity belt fashioned out of an old bear trap I found in a Raider camp. A classy woman like me-” She ignored my unconvinced snort at this juncture. “- must remain pure of heart in mind and body. That’s what happens when you become a mother. It’s sort of like becoming androgynous in a way. You exist only to shove your nip into your babies’ mouth and kowtow to its every irreverent demand for the next… forever years of its life.”

“I do hope you’re joking.” I said, genuinely sympathetic if this was in fact her mindset concerning motherhood. The roll of her eyes and the scrunch of her face told a whole other story however.

“Oh of course I am. It’s just the stupid bloody expectations I got from some of the mothering groups I went to before I had Shaun. It’s like, being a mother was all they wanted to be and they just couldn’t fucking WAIT to be a perpetual slave to their child.” She mused for a moment, cocking her head to the side, expression serious now. “I mean… being a Mom isn’t a bad thing and I definitely wouldn’t want to trade it up to go through life carrying on like a pork chop. It was just… cult like the way these women went on. It scared the hell out of me. No balance, you know? They’d rattle on about breast feeding; always being the one to get up to feed their baby so they could bond, staying at home while the husband worked, only hanging out with other Mom’s and I was like-” She made an expression of pure horror, waving her arms beside her head and reeling back. “-AAAAGGH!! Calm the fuck down, you crazy baby worshipping cultists! Stop trying to convert me! Why can’t I just be a normal Mom? When I told them I was planning on chowing down a bottle of wine as soon as Shaun was popped out of me, they looked about as gobsmacked as if I’d said I was going to go out and molest a pre-schooler!” She sighed wearily, twirling her finger in the dirt by her crossed legs. “Think I was the most rebellious one of the lot of them…”

“Wow. They _must_ have been vanilla if you had them outstripped.” I said cheekily, flashing a smile as I took another drag from the rollie. She pursed her lips irritably at me.

“I am not that fucking vanilla, thank you very much! Besides, how rebellious can you be when you don’t even have a fucking tattoo or piercings or anything?”

“How would you know whether I had any tats or not?” I shot back, for at this point she hadn’t yet seen enough of my body to back this accusation up behind doubt.

“So, what, you _do_ have ink?”

“Well, no.” I said, conceding that point. “The doc didn’t like tattooing folks who were under the influence and that was pretty much me all the time after a certain age. Besides, never really came across anything that I liked enough to put to my skin for all time.” I pushed my hat slightly off kilter and leaned closer, gently pulling down on my earlobe and turning my head enough so that she could examine the skin there. “Had about thirteen piercings in my ears at one stage. Most of the holes have closed over now.”

“Jesus, your ears must have looked mangled after that many piercings.” Eve said, leaning close to examine my earlobe. I could see from this small distance that she too had piercings in her ears; a single point to each lobe and a few others dotting along the shell. “Bet your Mom was thrilled with those.”

“Gave me the silent treatment for about a month. She wouldn’t sign with me at all, just this one.” I flapped my fingertips outward as though shooing away an irksome bug. “’Go away. ‘ _Go away’_. Didn’t want a bar of me. Which was difficult, considering we lived in a three-room shack at the time. Got more and more pissed off with every piercing. Took ‘em all out eventually. Hit my early twenties and realized how stupid I looked. She warmed back up to me after that.”

“Big sign of self-harming behaviour; piercing. It’s a way to let out the pain you’re feeling inside, or so I’ve been told.”

“Makes a fair lick of sense. Pop had died just a few years earlier and I never dealt with it very well. Had a lot of confusion and resentment to try and deal with. Don’t think I made it any easier on Ma though.” I stubbed the rollie out, feeling a flush of guilt spike in my chest. “I regret that. Wish I’d had the guts to man up and make life easier for her. She was grieving hardest.”

“Oh hun, you were a kid. I’m sure she understood that.” She took a sip of her own drink and flashed me another crooked smile. “So… did you, uh… ever get anything else pierced?”

I raised my brow at her. “What, like my todger? Fuck no. _Ouch._ Why? You got yourself a set of wind chimes hanging from the old bean, do ya?”

She burst out laughing, waving her arm from side to side as she rocked back on her ass. “No fucking way! _Double_ ouch!” She composed herself enough to puff out her chest in a proud and happy manner. “Although I was brave enough to get tattooed, unlike _you.”_

“It wasn’t a problem with being brave, it was a problem with not being sober. And if you’re talking about your inked-on eyeliner, I would hardly think that qualifies to be called a tattoo.”

“Hey. This ‘eyeliner’ hurt like hell to have ‘inked on’, buddy! Do you know how thin the skin around the eyes is?” Eve snapped, pulling the skin above her eye upward as though this would demonstrate the supposed ‘thinness’ of the flesh there. “Besides, I’m not even talking about that! I’ve got a tattoo on my shoulder. See?”

She started unbuttoning her pyjama top; much to my carefully disguised delight but my wandering eyes quickly discovered that she was in fact wearing a singlet top underneath. Which offered up a peek at her cleavage in the least, so it wasn’t an entirely wasted experience. When she had most of the buttons undone, she slipped her long-sleeved top down off of her shoulder, along with the strap of her singlet; which hung in a loose circlet around her upper arm. She shuffled closer and twisted, bringing her shoulder forward so that it followed the dip of her chin.

Just there below her shoulder blade was a red flower, with a green, thorny stem. It looked to have been carefully detailed, with delicate black lining. Just below the stem were the curlicue styled words: Hope springs eternal. In its entirety, the tattoo was probably a little over three inches in length but the colours were so strong and vibrant that it looked as though it might have been put to her skin a little over a week or so ago. It wasn’t the sort of tattoo that you saw in the Commonwealth, that’s for sure. No one had the skill, patience or supplies to draw something like this.

“It’s a beaut.” I said, because it truly was something to behold. Not just the way that it appeared on her flesh but for the delicate detail in which it had been rendered. The artist certainly had some skill. “What kind of flower is that? A rose?”

Eve nodded, peering down over the rise of her shoulder with a small smile. “Yeah. Guess you guys wouldn’t have seen much of those growing around the place, huh? I got it in memory of my Mom. She died when I was twenty-two.” She reached back to trace her finger over the rose and tapped the word beneath it. “The guy at the tattoo placed said it stood for hope; blooming eternal even when things look as though they’re getting dark.” She shrugged and gave a self-mocking little laugh. “Wanky shit, I know.”

I chuckled a little, my eyes still focused on the beautifully turned lines of the tattoo. “Nah… it’s kinda nice, Munch. To honor your Ma like that… kinda makes me wish I’d done somethin’ similar when Pop passed.”

“Well, we were very close. Best friends as well as mother and daughter.” She gave an ironic sounding laugh. “Funnily enough, I think she would probably be mad that I did it. She hated tattoos and piercings and weird body art. My Dad was thrilled though. He’s got…” Her voice trailed off for a moment and her head swayed away from the line of her shoulder, glancing down towards the ground beneath her feet. I could see a glimmer appear in the corners of her eyes; the reflective sheen of tears forming and she took a deep breath in through her nose to gain control. “Um… he had a whole bunch of tats himself… tribal ones though, from our people.”

“Your people?” I asked, distracted. She still hadn’t covered up her shoulder and I was using the opportunity to trace the lines of her bared flesh with my eyes. Without the strap of her top to divide the slope of her tanned skin, her shoulder looked vulnerable and innocent somehow. And enticing. As though she had shrugged the strap free from a gown and was peering over behind herself, inviting me to join her in the bedroom so that the rest of her garment might be dispensed with. As I leaned closer, I could catch a glimpse down over her collarbone; the swell where her breast began and then coyly slipped out of sight beneath the jutting cup of her bra. With the strap loosened, there was a slight gap at the top that she might otherwise have filled out. Shadows kept everything else out of sight. As it well should have been. I hadn’t earned anymore of a right to her body than what she permitted me to see and it wouldn’t be right to be cheated out of the effort.

I thought I had been subtler than I must actually have been, because Eve pulled a face at me, tugged her top tighter to her chest and reached up to cup me beneath the chin. She pulled my face up until my eyes were forced into alignment with her own.

“I’m flattered honey but I’m also up here.” She said, looking stern for all of two seconds before we both started chuckling. “You men… so mammary preoccupied. I’m talking about my people. You know… the Dakota tribe.”

“Ohhh, that’s right. I forgot you were a-” I put my hand over my mouth and patted it a few times, making a ‘whoo, whoo, whoo’ noise, which Eve immediately pulled a face at.

“Offensive; pale face.” She said, swatting at the top of my hat so that it fell sideways on my head. “I’m Dakota on my Dad’s side and he was a mix himself. He was very in touch with his culture though… unlike me.” She indicated up and down her arms. “He had all these beautiful tribal tattoos up and down his arms, on his back. Some on the sides of his neck. Gorgeous looking man too. High cheekbones, big almond eyes, dark skin.” She tapped a fingernail to the ground, smiling in that sad way that she had. “He uh… he would have died as well. When the bombs fell. Up in North Dakota.”

“I’m sorry.” I said, feeling my own face pinch together as a genuine flush of sympathy ran through me. She had lost so much in such a short space of time, this poor woman. Her mother, dead in her twenties. Her entire world blown to bits, just when she was starting a family of her own. Her father, killed so far away, without a chance to say goodbye. All her extended family as well; no doubt. Friends too and work colleagues. And then her husband murdered, her baby stolen… It was a wonder she hadn’t been made all the more bitter by these cruel, seemingly calculated circumstances. “Jesus… you must feel like the world is stacked against you with odds like that.” I pursed my lips, feeling a hallow stab of emptiness in my chest to imagine what waking up in that freezing cold vault must have been like; knowing all the while that everything she once had had now been stripped away. “It must have been… terrifying… and lonely, waking up to all that.”

She gave a thoughtful nod of her head, though her eyes seemed disconnected now; as though she had thrown up those mental walls firmly in her mind. Bidding the pain away from this time, this moment.

“It was… and it’s hard still a lot of the time. But I have you guys with me. So, I’m not lonely. And I’ll have Shaun back too.” She gave a soft smile, reaching back to run her fingers over the lines of her tattoo. “’Hope springs eternal’, as they say. I’ve just gotta keep movin’… keep waddling on. ‘Til I get where I gotta be. Then I’ll figure out what to do next.”

I wanted to reach out and touch her; to splay my fingers across that symbol of hope and perseverance adorning her flesh and bring her in toward me. Not because I felt she needed comfort or pity but for the fact alone that I admired her deeply and wanted to possess that in some way. To connect with that fortitude and compassion; to personify that deep appreciation though the alignment of our skin. I even raised my hand toward her, though thought better of it at the last second and dropped it back down to rest upon my knee. We weren’t touching at that stage, you see. Not the way that we had done later, with such mutual understanding and fondness. In six months, a person can still be a stranger, regardless of what feelings you might in turn be developing for them. And I was a Ghoul and still uncertain as to just how much of me she might have been able to tolerate.

Eve was observant though and never missed much. She smiled down toward where my hand now rested and then raised her eyes to meet mine; her expression gentle and non-judgmental.

“You wanted to touch it?” She asked, tapping the tattoo. I rolled my shoulders, non-committing and offered up a small smile in return.

“Well… kinda. Really just wanted to give your shoulder a rub… case you were feeling down, you know?”

She laughed self-mockingly and gave her hair a bit of a ruffle. “Ah, you know me, darl. Big old la-la. I’ll take a good ol’ touch up whenever it’s on offer.”

I pressed my lips together a little tighter; looking down at the curve of her smooth skin rolling like copper waves over the jutting bone of her shoulder blade. I was such a Judas. I never condemned my own kind for our condition but I still much preferred the touch of a Smoothskin. I hungered for it, in fact. A Ghoul’s nerve receptors tend to become far more sensitive due to the corrosion of our epidermis, so our sense of touch is more profound. It made sex a lot more intense, which was a huge benefit of an otherwise unsightly condition.

And the feeling of that smooth skin beneath our ragged, creviced palms and fingertips was so good… I mean, I have been with Ghoul women; both before and after I became a Ghoul myself and I wasn’t put off by the condition in any way shape or form. (Thank God, or I wouldn’t have done very well dealing with my own necrosis when it occurred). But I think my own change only served to make me more attracted to smooth skin than I had ever been before.

It must have felt awful for a woman though; to have my grisly rotted old hands pawing her all over. Too dry most of the time and slightly slimy when wet or sweaty… And all the cracks and crevices… they probably felt like they were being rubbed over with dried out clay.

“I’m sure the last thing you’d appreciate is these grotty out old meat hooks rubbing up on ya.” I said, cocking my head and flashing a smile to show that I wasn’t getting sucked into self-pity. This was just a reality. An unfortunate one but nothing that I was going to waste any time getting all bent out of shape about.

Eve quirked a brow at me; looking a little annoyed now. “What? You think I’d be worried about you touching me? Because you’re a Ghoul?” I quirked my brows in response and she frowned and grumbled, blowing a strand of hair away from her face. “Oh, as if I’d be worried about a thing like that! Honest to God, Hancock, you’re being a bit bloody oversensitive! My husband was covered in burn scars and I didn’t upchuck my lunch every time he put his hands on me.”

Well, unless he had burns to about one-hundred percent of his body, I couldn’t imagine his physical condition was anywhere near as repellent as mine but I appreciated her kindness all the same.

“I’m sorry if I’m bein’ ‘oversensitive’.” I said, flicking the fingers of the hand I had crocked on my knee distractedly. “It’s just the sorta thing ya gotta be aware of as a Ghoul. Folks can get a bit squeamish, ya know?”

“Well, I’m not squeamish.” Eve replied firmly and I think to prove it, she reached out with her own hand and lifted mine from my knee. She slid her fingers over into my palm and clenched them tight, giving me a reassuring squeeze as she smiled in turn. “And I’m not that bloody sensitive that I’m gonna cringe like a big girls’ blouse if you give me the occasional touch or rub… or smack to the ass. Which I recall you don’t seem to have _any_ such concerns with!”

“It ain’t skin to skin contact.” I explained, giving a coy little smile. Rather wishing that it was.

Eve laughed and reached over to pet her fingertips to my chin. “I like skin to skin contact. It’s healthy. And it feels nice.”

“That it does.”

“So…” She drawled softly, turning her back towards me and gesturing with her hand. “Feel free to… put your hands on me if you like.”

“Well, since you insist…” I said, purposefully misinterpreting her meaning and leaning forward so that I could reach both arms around her middle, bringing my hands into a claw shape and lowering them towards each of her breasts. Her eyes darted between them both in confusion before she turned, whipped my hat off of my head and smacked me hard across the noggin with it.

“Not like that, you dirty old man! I meant you could give me a rub on the shoulder, not rotate my effin’ tires!”

I laughed as I retracted my hands, foisting my hat out of her own and perching it back atop my head. “Sorry darlin’. You weren’t very specific.”

“Well, to be more specific; you only get to bowl me over if you buy a few good dinners first. Or… you know; one semi-average bottle of white wine.” We both laughed at this one, though she wasn’t being entirely fair to herself in saying it. She might have been a lousy old slurry but she certainly wasn’t easy when she was hard on the turps. I had well and truly tested this strategy a fair few times over.

“You sure you’re okay with me touching you? Because you don’t have an obligation to try and preserve my feelings, Munch. I’m a big boy, you know.”

Eve shook her head and then tilted it a little, looking suddenly shy and as though she might very much like to hide her face behind her shoulder. “I’m not only okay with it, John… but I would like it.”

Now this came a little as a surprise. My brows lifted up and away from my eyes so fast it wouldn’t have surprised me if the surrounding socket had cracked in the wake.

“Like it?” I asked, uncertain that I had heard her correctly. Perhaps she thought I had asked whether she would be okay with me getting her another refill or something.

Her eyes lowered a little and she offered up a roll of her shoulder, looking all the more embarrassed for her statement. “I… miss being held sometimes… And… it’s not up to you guys to fill that void for me. That shit ain’t fair, I know but if you’re ever worried about touching me, please don’t be.” She looked up at me now, her large eyes shiny and her mouth twisted into that once more sad little smile. “Your touch would be doing me a kindness. You know?”

It was enough for me then; to see her so vulnerable and in need that I hadn’t the strength to hold myself back any longer. This time when I raised my hand, I allowed it to settle on the bare skin of her back; that smooth, unbroken line of flesh that she had so far refrained from covering up again. When my palm came flush to the back of her shoulder, her eyes shut momentarily before rising slowly back to half-mast. Her smile broadened; though she looked weak and very tired all of a sudden.

“Thanks…” She murmured, her head swaying all the more as I started to rotate my palm around that warm patch of skin. So smooth the plains of her flesh; uninterrupted in its flawless train that sloped and curved and hugged the knots and peaks of the bones beneath. There were freckles here and there of course and scars from where a few spots had perhaps been removed…. But the lovely skin. The slight, soft brush of tiny blonde hairs that lightly dusted the line of her spine, the rich color of her tan – the prevailing proof of her people’s heritage, painted upon the canvas of her flesh…

And highlighted boldly against it all was that rose. Her mother’s memorial, her never fading words of hope and light.

“Feels so nice…” She softly purred and I recognized the tell-tale lolling of her head for the Chark finally taking effect in her system.

It seemed a perfect time to make my move. That she had invited my touch and the tenderness in which we were now sharing that connection… not to mention how dozy the Chark had made her. I could almost guarantee that she would be receptive to any advance I might then attempt.

I would lean in and test my luck first and foremost; move my hand around a little more, until I could fetch it ever so carefully beneath the lines of her pyjama top and perhaps pull this a little further down her back. See if she might then acquiesce into letting it fall entirely down until I could take my palms to the wider, bared spectrum of her back. Push the straps of the bra and singlet top down on the other side, so that her shoulders were entirely bare. Take both hands to her soft, copper skin and push and rub, so that the knots creaked and rolled and made her moan and sigh…

The feeling would go through her then, nothing surer. If she allowed me to go this far, then who was to say that she might not then permit me to lean in and press my lips to the flagrant colours of that penned memoriam upon her shoulder?

If it was unwelcome, she might freeze and go rigid. I could find a way to laugh it off later, perhaps. Say that the chark and the drinks got the better of me and that it would never happen again. Life could go on as normal. But if she was receptive to things going further…

A roll of the neck, to bring her head back towards me… the stretch displaying the long column of her throat. I would trail my lips up, peck beneath the ear, bring full, hot sucks against the flesh here. By then it would be obvious. A few seconds later, I would claim her lips with the same blistering passion, pull her back against my chest so that she nestled between my thighs. She would kiss me back; her own common sense and gag reflex notwithstanding of course. Perhaps invite my tongue into her mouth with a soft, sexy moan… maybe her hands would find work of their own along my legs. Her fingers sliding back to stroke along the seam of my trousers; to bring me to where I needed to be so that I could fully satisfy her in a way that my hands and mouth could not.

If she were to do such a thing (God can only hope), I knew I would no longer possess anything so much as resembling constraint. My own hands would arch over her shoulders like lava erupting from the burst peak of a volcano (one of Adrian’s books again) and slide down over her chest so that they pushed down and away the sloping cups of her bra. Trace the oblique curve of each of her tits to the very crest and squeeze and pull and maul…

It would only be a matter then of somehow pissing all the others off for a good hour or two, so that I could carry Eve into the shack so that we might be alone for a while. I would need a few hours, so as to work through even half of the desire I had been stockpiling for this woman. And a good helping of the positions I had in mind.

But I did none of it. Instead, I continued to rub her shoulder; looking her over with the thoughts racing through my mind of what I might prefer instead to be doing but feeling quite honestly that this was not the right time. Not when she was affected and most certainly not when she was vulnerable.

Because in the six months that we had been travelling together, something had happened between Eve and I, which would forever interfere with every method I had once carefully cultivated to a fine art.

We had become friends. And in doing so, she became more than a woman, or a man or any other person who merely formed a part of the tableau that was my view of the world. She operated on my spectrum as a vital organ; a pulsing, beating, tangible life-sustaining element.

I desired her in great part for her physicality. But this desire was ever more pronounced and reinforced by the simple fact that I truly and deeply liked her. She didn’t fill the stand-alone function of a woman that I wanted to sleep with. She occupied many places in my mind and was starting to become all the more intriguing to me by the day for it.

I was curious about her and she with me, I think. We clearly found things to admire about one another and enjoyed our time spent together as friends. More so than that, I cared enough for her to regret that she was sad. That she missed her father, her mother, her old life but was still trying to draw positives from a barren landscape and future that offered so little respite from her struggles.

Over time, her sadness and fear were required to pierce their way through me, the moment that they entered her. For I was so close to her by the time our journey came to its premature conclusion, that there was no simply way that she could experience such feelings and not have them impact on me too. To see her cry, worry or pine was to evoke those self-same emotions from me in turn. I was inseparable from them. Wrapped around her so tightly that whatever cut her, sliced through me also. Whatever bleed out from her, strained directly into my own veins first before finding its place upon the ground.

It was as though the thorns from that rose had traced their way around our bodies and pulled us tight together so that we were indistinguishable from one another. Pulled deeper together as we retracted from the pain that pierced from the outside; bundled and overlapping, poised still beneath that rose of eternal hope; which waited, coalesced in its patient, unyielding bud. Waiting for the darkness to lift just enough, so that it might finally unfurl its hidden promises and arch upward into peaceful, perfect full bloom.

And so, I smiled and did nothing more than caress her; smooth some small sharp edge from her worries and grant the most menial of respites. It might have been easy then, to have tried for her and been beaten back. For I hadn’t truly loved her then, I don’t think. But I was starting to.

And it might have been fine to continue this way if not for two things; namely the fact that Eve herself was high as a kite and had a very limited tolerance for being in such a state. As my hand continue to stroke across her back, she let out a soft but deep purr of contentment; a sound I have since heard but was unfamiliar to me at the time. Her shoulder rolled lazily and she turned to press her cheek against it; casting her one visible eye down towards the ground.

“It’s funny… the little things you take for granted.” She mused, lifting her wine glass back to her lips and taking a slow, measured sip. I watched, taken in by the sight; of the way her full lips flexed together and then softly parted as she took the golden liquid across her tongue. “All that stuff that’s just… a part of your every day. Just… there and… always there and then suddenly-” She darted the fingertips of her spare hand apart; tilting her hand then to the side as though emulating smoke drifting down from an explosion. “ –poof! All gone. All just gone. That’s when you realize just how… empty the places are where all those… tiny little things used to be before. Someone reaching out to hold your hand, putting their arms around you when you need a hug… kissing you… making… love…”

My heart thumped a little harder in my chest as her eyes flickered up to meet my own. I mean, if this wasn’t a clear invitation… She might have been vulnerable sure but she was still human. And she clearly still had needs.

“So, you’re after a… hug?” I asked, shuffling closer so that my chest almost pressed to the bare line of her back. I trailed my hand down to rest my fingertips in the soft, warm crease of her inside elbow. Eve tilted her head back, her smile matching my own and naught but a hairs breadth between them.

“I’m after something.” She whispered and I chuckled as I gently stroked my fingers against her arm, mirroring the lean of her own chin as we made to bring our lips together. I could feel her warm breath against my flesh and I knew her mouth and tongue would taste of the wine she had been drinking…

“Hey, you guys feeling up for a walk?”

Eve turned her head to face the intrusion; which came in the form of a chirpy looking Robert MacCready. He looked far too cheerful in fact for me to suspect that he had wandered up on us obliviously. Sure enough, in the background I could see that Nick was focused intently on some conversation he was having with Deacon; which was evidence enough that he was simply pretending to not glance our way and had undoubtedly been the one to enlist MacCready’s services.

I felt like swatting MacCready’s legs out from underneath him and garrotting the smug fuck with my sash. Where’d the little jerk wad get off swanning over when it was plainly obvious two people were about to start sucking face? Did these assholes just sit around thinking up ways to keep me at arm’s length from Eve?

“Do I _look_ like I feel up for a walk?” I asked rhetorically, flashing MacCready a very dangerous look which most knew how to interpret as ‘take a fucking long hike off of a very stunted pier’. But Eve, being her usual annoying and accommodating self, simply chuckled as she petted my hand.

“Come on. It’ll probably do us lazy cunts some good.” She said, rocking forward and slowly, painfully dragging herself to her feet. My chest felt suddenly cold from where her body had been previously pressed against mine and I might have resented it all the more if it hadn’t given me a great view of her ass as she stood up. “Burn off some of this excess energy before we hit the sack.”

Great. That’s exactly how I was thinking we should ‘burn off some excess energy.’ Taking a romantic moonlit walk with Robert _Mac-fucking-Cready_ through the surrounding woodland. I sighed irritably as I took Eve’s offered hand and let her tug me up.

“Cool. Nice night for a stroll.” MacCready remarked, slinging an arm around Eve’s shoulders and all but wrenching her hand out of my own. Now I really wanted to knife the little fucker and I think he knew it too. Judging from the smarmy little smile he shot my way from behind Eve’s broad shoulders.

“I’ll just grab our jackets.” I said, narrowing my eyes reproachfully at MacCready as I turned and stalked back towards the fire. “You need your piece, Munch?”

“Probably a good idea.” Eve called over to me and I waved my hand in the air to show that I had acknowledged her. Easier to focus on what I was doing than letting myself get all bent out of shape over the fact that MacCready was draped across her shoulders like some sort of tattered boa.

We had all been caught in the rain earlier that day and been forced to change once we had found suitable shelter. The clothing we had been wearing was currently drying by the fire; draped over improvised clothes horses made from crooked sticks that had been jammed firmly into the earth. Mine and Eve’s coats were naturally draped side by side, since we had been chatting whilst hanging them up. I went now and fetched them, feeling around inside the lining to see if some of the dampness had been worked out. Eve’s still felt a little wetter than I would have liked, so I decided instead to grab a sweater out of her bag. She had a couple of nice thick ones that would keep her warm while we walked. And I’d have my own coat to throw over her if needed.

I stepped over Cait and Piper’s sprawled bodies and passed through the doorway of the dilapidated old shanty we had stumbled across. It consisted of two average sized rooms, though was sturdy enough to keep out most of the night chill and shelter us adequately if the weather turned nasty again. The sleeping bags and bedding had already been laid out and I noticed with some annoyance that someone had pushed my bedroll away from Eve’s and plopped their own down between us. Judging from the spaceship and cartoon Astronaut theme on the pillowcase, I could only assume that this was the work of Deacon.

“Nice try. You little Hancock-block.” I muttered, squatting down and scooping all of Deacon’s bedding up into my arms. I trotted with it to the other room and set it all out again as far from everyone else as possible. “Have fun freezing your ass off in solitary confinement, Dipshit.”

Satisfied with my work, I marched back over to my own bedroll and tugged it up nice and tight beside Eve’s again. I took a moment to realign all the other sleeping bags accordingly, so as to make it even more difficult for Deacon to try and squeeze his way back in. Smiling and very pleased with myself, I knelt down beside Eve’s bag and gently tugged the top of it open. I took out her sidearm first and quickly checked it over; making sure all the chambers were loaded and nothing was jammed in the barrel. I then took out her leather hip holster and slung it over my shoulder; knowing it would be a daft look along with her pyjama’s but reasoning that it would be preferable to carrying the piece in her hand.

I reached back into her bag and knuckled around for a bit, grabbing a hold of the first fuzzy thing I could find. I tugged out a thick gray sweater; the least holey out of the few selections she had and draped it over my arm. It wasn’t a freezing night, so I wagered it would be enough to keep her cosy.

I checked over my side-by-side before taking my thigh holster out from my own bag and slinging it about my upper leg. I tightened the twin leather straps individually before sliding my knife down inside of the cushioned sheathe; the handle resting just in reach of my hand if I was required to grab for it quickly. I gave my leg a few shakes to ensure that it wasn’t going to fall loose, before fetching up my gun and traipsing back outside. I ducked my head down beside Nick, who was staring so intently into the fire you would think him an ancient shaman trying to divine prophecies from the flames.

“You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?”

Nick turned slightly; his synthetic lips quirking up into a very self-satisfied little smirk. “I do think I’m rather clever, yeah.”

“Well shove off, circuit board.” I hissed, turning just enough so that I could get right in front of his face and look him square in his artificial eyes. “She’s a grown woman. And you ain’t showin’ her any respect by making out like she can’t be trusted to her own decisions.”

The humor slid down out of Nick’s face like a sticker peeling from a glass surface in the heat. The components that made up his eyes spun from between the slits that the lids had narrowed into and his lips twisted off to the left.

“She’s a grown woman, yeah. But she’s vulnerable. And all the more vulnerable for you shoving Chems and alcohol under her nose every five minutes.”

I narrowed my eyes back at him. “You suggestin’ I’m tryin’ to stack the deck? Get her all geezied up and – _what?_ Take advantage?”

One of his brows rose neatly into his pale forehead. “Well, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m _not!”_ I snapped back and then quickly lowered my voice as Deacon and Piper both glanced in my direction. “We’re getting to know each other. Being friends. Having _fun._ You should try it every once in a while; might find it a novel experience.”

Nick sighed, which seemed a strange habit to possess given that he didn’t really require oxygen and tilted his head off to the side.

“Being friends is all well and good and it wouldn’t bother me if I thought that’s all you were after.” He held up a hand curtly as I went to snap at him again. “Calm down. All I’m asking is that you don’t go hurting her. Don’t play those stupid, mean spirited games that you play with those other dames you’ve shacked up with in the past. She’s got too much on her shoulders already.”

“Hard as it is for you to accept Nick, I genuinely like Eve. And I got no interest in hurting her.” I stated, straightening back up and resting the barrel of the shotgun firm against my shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me; I have a romantic night time stroll to be getting on with. Thanks to _you.”_

“Have fun.” Nick said, smirking dryly as I turned on my heel and stalked back over to where Eve and MacCready were waiting for me. Dogmeat trailed along beside me, clearly as sceptical of my intentions as Nick was. He gave me a dark, brooding look as I glanced down at him.

“Now don’t you start.” I muttered out of the corner of my mouth, earning a growl and a gnawing to the side of my hand. I flapped my fingers against his nose to steer him clear, not wanting to stick the boot into him while Eve was watching. Not that I had a very hard line when it came to dogs anyway. Especially not ones who were the ‘extra-special baby’ of the woman I was currently trying to squeeze into bed with.

“Here you go.” I said to Eve, using both hands to hold the collar of the sweater open and bundling up the remaining material beneath it. She eased her head obediently through the gap and I brought it down over her shoulders, straightening out the middle section as she fed her arms through the sleeves. MacCready made a snorting sound from nearby and rolled his eyes.

“I think she knows how to dress herself, Hancock.” He said, taking his sidearm out and giving it a quick once over while he waited. Eve chuckled as she freed her hands and reached up to brush her hair back into place.

“Oh hush.” She said, flashing me a smile as I looped the holster about her middle and started tightening it to her hip. “He knows I’m next to useless when I’m sleepy. I’d probably end up wearing my sweater as a pair of pants without his help.”

“Ah yes. The oft unappreciated fuzzy crotch less sweatpants look.” I joked, flashing a wink at her as I finished securing the belt to her waist. I tucked the .44 into the holster and directed the barrel so that it pointed out behind her; something she had a bad habit of forgetting herself. I had a chuckle to myself because it really did make for a strange ensemble. Eve’s baggy white pyjama pants, gray jumper, gun and holster. She saw me laughing and pulled a face.

“Well, it’s not like I’m trying to win any fucking fashion contests out here!” She growled, leaning over and thumping me hard in the arm. I laughed as I took up my shotgun from where it had been resting against my shin and braced it once more to the line of my shoulder.

“A good thing too. Considering you’d be losing and all.” I ducked aside as she punched at me again and stuck my tongue out. “Let’s get this freak show on the road, shall we?”

“Sounds good.” MacCready said chirpily, holstering his side arm and then gesturing off into the darkness to our left, where a narrow path cut its way through a scraggly under crop of trees. “Spotted a big old abandoned building on our way here. Might be worth some nosing around, see if we can’t scare up a few odds and ends.”

“So long as it’s not haunted.” Eve said, turning and flashing a teasing smile over her shoulder at me. “Old John boys’ ticker doesn’t take well to the supernatural.”

MacCready laughed as he dropped back to walk beside her; Dogmeat trotting along at her heel and keeping me at least a good two feet away at all times.

“Seems a bit weird, Hancock. Given that you’re a Ghoul and all…”

“ _Ghouls and ghosties and long-legged beasties…”_ Eve sang, arching her hand over her head to wave at the others as we ducked through the bushes and out of the light of the campfire. I snorted at the two of them belligerently.

“I just have a natural, healthy respect for the unknown and the unexplained.” I stated, bringing the barrel of my shotgun down into my opposing hand and keeping it ready in case of trouble. My eyesight wasn’t great of an evening, especially not after a few rollies and a couple glasses of Bourbon. But they were a definite step-up from Eve’s lousy vision. “Besides, _you’re_ the one who sat up all night tweaking out after Dipshit told us the story about the dog and the shower, Mac.”

“Humans can lick too…” Eve intoned creepily, leaning towards MacCready and swiping her waggling tongue along the shell of his ear. He let off a shriek like a boiling tea kettle and sprang sideways, nearly knocking me ass over tit through the surrounding bushes.

“Don’t do that!!” He snapped, rubbing at his ear whilst Eve and I bust for laughing at his expense. Though I couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit jealous for him getting his ear licked; even if she had done it simply to tease him. “Man, you know I hope we run into a ghost now and the two of you piss your- pee your pants and have to walk back all soggy and embarrassed. It would serve you right!”

Eve snorted as she reached out to push a low hanging branch out of her path. “Please. It’s the living breathing human beings that scare me, darling. Not the dead ones.”

“Which is exactly who we need to be keepin’ an eye out for.” I gently reminded them, surprised to find myself being the responsible one in this situation. “So, let’s try and keep the natter light, eh? Don’t much fancy surprises.”

The darkness continued to steal over us as we drew further away from camp; prompting MacCready to switch on the small torch he normally carried in his pocket. Having grown up in a cave, I guess it had become second nature to never go anywhere without one and I was grateful for him having formed such a habit. Since in my stupidity and annoyance I had forgotten to grab one myself.

After about a good ten minutes of trudging we came to a clearing, beside which was a gently sloping incline down towards the building MacCready had mentioned earlier. The moon was out from behind the clouds for a spell and it provided some half-decent light for me to be able to get a better bead on the area. As I looked around, checking for signs of movement, Eve and Dogmeat wandered ahead a little and stopped by a bush sporting a large, flagrant display of iridescent flowers. MacCready took a deep breath in, his chest expanding with the force of his inhalation and then sighed, low and contentedly. He switched the torch off and slipped it back into his pocket; gazing up at the moon with a faraway, wistful expression on his unshaven face.

“Nice night.” He said conversationally. I glanced at him, feeling my lips peak towards my nasal cavity to form what was my classic display of annoyance.

“Yes, very nice. How many caps did Nick offer you for getting up in my face?”

To his credit, MacCready didn’t even try to defend himself and simply smirked as he continued staring up towards the sky.

“Fifty.”

I scoffed. “Seems a tad low for life insurance.”

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders lightly. “Hey, let’s not go forgetting _you’re_ the one who paid me to tuck tight to her hip in the first place. Didn’t specify just what shi- _stuff_ I needed to be protecting her from. Besides, Valentine’s just worried you’ll end up doin’ to Evie what you do with every other girl you got on the pull. And she’s not exactly in the best place to be dealing with that crap right now, eh?”

I sighed, measuring the breath slowly and carefully so as to try to keep my patience in check. When I was certain I had it well under control, I turned to look back at MacCready.

“I wouldn’t try nothin’ on unless she made the first move.” I stated, glancing over towards Eve to make certain that nothing had happened to her whilst MacCready and I had been gossiping. She was kneeling by the bush and looked entirely absorbed by whatever it was she was doing. “I’ve got no interest in hurtin’ Eve or tryin’ to take advantage of her. She’s too good a friend for starters.” I gave a slight smile as I watched the back of Eve’s scruffy head bob from side to side in that familiar inquisitive manner of hers as she gave the glowing bush a thorough once over. “I like her. A whole damn lot.”

“Yeah?” MacCready said, sounding the slightest bit unconvinced as he followed my gaze over towards Eve. The smile dropped off my face as I quirked my brow at him.

“What? You think it’s impossible for me to actually appreciate a woman for more than just sex?”

MacCready’s eyes flinched together as she shook his head. “Didn’t mean it like that, man. Only that… I didn’t think someone like Evie would be your type, you know?”

“Hey, Hancock!” Eve called suddenly, cutting across my indignant reply to MacCready. I glanced over as she climbed to her feet and pointed down at the bush beside her. “What kind of flower is this?”

I took a closer look at the plant. “Looks like a Fever blossom, Munch. We don’t get ‘em much out this way. Seen a few of ‘em further West though.”

“They’re super nice.” Eve commented, turning back to the plant with a contented smile curving the corners of her lips up into her cheeks. “Are they toxic?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Can you eat them?”

I pulled a face, though hardly surprised that the food loving dame had asked such a question. “I don’t know if I’d encourage eating anything that’s glowing, Munch. But I don’t know of anyone who’s gotten sick from eating them.”

“I think they’ve got a sorta tart like vinegar taste.” MacCready contributed, pointing towards his mouth and scrunching up his nose as though he were partaking of the flower that very moment. “Heard of some folks using them to flavour stews and things like that. Gives a bit of zing to bland tasting stuff.”

“Cool.” Eve remarked, turning back to the bush and reaching out tentatively to pluck one of the blossoms free. When she was satisfied that the bush wasn’t about to fight back, she took a whiff of the blossom, sighed and then started collecting a few more. The glow from the flowers didn’t so much as fade as they were pulled free from the branches and they lit the underside of her chin in a blue light.

I chuckled to myself as I observed her with ever mounting fondness. “God, she’s a dillsbry.” I remarked and then, remembering MacCready’s earlier comment, turned back to frown at him. “And what do you mean you don’t think that Eve is ‘my type’? What sort of ‘type’ do you suppose I have?”

MacCready arched his shoulder defensively. “I don’t know! Kinda like… Magnolia, I guess. All sultry and sexy and sophisticated.” He gestured over towards Eve. “And Evie, well… she’s just… Eve.”

“What a poignant observation.” I said sarcastically, renting a grunt of annoyance from MacCready in response.

“You know what I mean. She’s like a… she’s a Mum.”

“So what? You’re, like, a _father._ And I’m sure you’d like to think someone out there might find you fuckable.” I curled my lip at him. “Horrifying as that is to imagine.”

He shot me a dark look. “Ha ha. And I don’t mean she’s a Mum just in the fact she’s got a kid. I mean she’s a Mum like in personality.” He waved his hands towards Eve, looking as though he was struggling with his words. “She’s all… cuddly and wants to take care of people and tuck them into bed and feed them. She’s clumsy and goofy. Not to mention she is one major dork.”

“You don’t find her hot?” I asked, genuinely stumped that anyone could look at Eve and not find something appealing in her appearance. She was genuinely one of the most attractive women I had ever met and not to toot my own horn but I’d met a good sledge of them in my time.

MacCready looked over towards Eve, his nose wrinkling a little. “I didn’t say she wasn’t hot. I just figured you’d go for someone, you know… sexy. Like Cait.”

“I ain’t interested in Cait.” I said immediately and was surprised by how completely true this statement was. Given that MacCready wasn’t entirely wrong in his assumptions. Once upon a time, Cait would have been exactly my type. “Think it’s safe to say that you’re not half keen though.”

Rather than get defensive, MacCready just gave a crooked little smile and tapped his elbow into my arm. “Hey, wouldn’t it be somethin’ if we all hooked up before the end of this mission?”

I felt my own lips curl into a smile. “Well, I always did love a happy ending. In all meanings of the expression.” I roused a muffled, immature laugh from MacCready with this. “You reckon Deacon might be keen on the little Ink-Slinger?”

MacCready tilted his head uncertainly. “Eh… dunno, really. Hard to say with someone like the D-man. Always plays his cards tight to his chest.” He flexed his shoulders back one at a time, each one creaking and cracking as he worked trapped air out from between the joints. “Hardly thinkin’ he’d say no if she got blind drunk and threw herself on him.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” I snorted, finding humor in just the visual image alone. It wasn’t that Piper was necessarily a prude or any such thing, but she was certainly far from easy. She really didn’t believe in sex simply for sex’s sake and didn’t play much into flirting.

Which kind of set her apart from Eve and Cait, in that regard. Cait was extremely promiscuous, though very confident in how she went about having her needs met. She didn’t cling to men or chase after them; she simply grabbed them, fucked them and then moved onto the next one. A pattern very similar to one I myself had maintained for many years; only with women in place of men.

And in spite of being a widow, Eve was naturally flirty because she was simply so friendly. She herself liked to be flirted with and was never offended by a cheeky comment here and there, so long as it was admiring and respectful. … Actually, not even respectful, so much. She always seemed far too excited when someone made a passing comment about her ass. Poor self-esteem, go figure.

MacCready flashed me what I took to be a rather serious look. “Ya know that Eve ain’t exactly the casual type either, right? That girl’s a marrying girl. So if ya mean to make a play for her, you’d damn well better be prepared for it ta be the last play ya make. And if you’re not, don’t bother signing up for the season. Get my drift?”

It was a point I would have much rather avoided if possible but one I could hardly deny. Though Eve was receptive to flirting and had confessed more than the once to loving sex, she wasn’t the type of girl who switched off from her emotions very well. Her own views on the issue notwithstanding. If I were to start something with her, it wouldn’t be some sort of strings free deal. Woman had a lot of baggage for one. And she was far too lovely for me to want to mess about, for another.

“Yeah…” I said, sighing and conceding to his point. “I get ya. But come on; who’s to say that she’d want a bar of this ugly mug, anyway?”

MacCready’s eyes just about twinkled as he shot a grin in my direction. “Ya got a point. Most dames’d be a bit put off if they were being humped by something that looked like it just crawled its way out of a crematorium.”

“Hey, why don’t you fuck off back to your cave and get raped by a big stunted Yaoi Gua?”

MacCready laughed as he slid his hands into his pockets and continued watching as Eve stalwartly wrestled her way through all the twisting branches of the Fever bushes in her bid to strip them of as many flowers as possible. One of the blossoms in the centre bush was just slightly out of reach and she was forced to lean in, bracing one of her hands against a bowing branch and stretching out her fingertips in an effort to pluck the evasive flower. Her sweater rode up a little as her arm extended the fabric, revealing a long, tanned line of skin just above the elastic of her pyjama pants. The material of which was now stretched tight against the curves of her ass; owing to the way that the lower hem was caught between her heels and her slippers.

I heard MacCready swallow down what sounded like a considerably large lump. “She’s got a nice _tokus_ on her. I’ll say that much.”

“A very nice _tokus.”_ I agreed, smirking at MacCready’s reaction. Despite his insistence that he didn’t find Eve sexy, it was plain to see that he still considered aspects of her figure desirable. “Nice tits, nice curves, great smile, big, sexy eyes…” I shook my head, bemused. “How you don’t find her hot is beyond me, brother.”

He shrugged again, though I noticed he still hadn’t taken his eyes off of Eve’s rump; which was still foisted in the area as she swiped resolutely at the glowing flower.

“She’s just not my type.”

“All the better. Less competition for me.” I said cheerfully, watching as Eve finally grabbed a hold of the glowing flower and gave it a few sharp tugs to free it from its branch. I had an image in my head of the two of us here alone together; me, stepping up behind Eve and running my palms all over the curves of her ass. Tugging her pyjama pants down around her ankles, freeing myself from my own trousers and thrusting deep up inside of her. Digging my fingernails into those full pert cheeks as I railed her…

Oh _man_.

We could have been doing that. If MacCready hadn’t stopped us from kissing earlier. We could have been doing that _right_ this second! I stifled back the groan that threatened to escape from my throat; having far too vivid an idea of what I was currently missing out on. I could damn near feel her tight, hot, squeezing wetness about me… _God fucking dammit!_

“How much would it cost to get you to hurl yourself down that hill?” I queried, gesturing towards the incline with a nod of my head. MacCready glanced towards it and pursed his lips as he gave the matter some serious deliberation.

“Hundred caps.” He finally said.

“Highway robbery.” I said, bunting him in the arm with the barrel of the shotgun. “Give me something reasonable.”

“That is reasonable, man!” He said, wide eyed with offense. “There could be rocks on that hill. I could end up doing myself some serious damage.”

“That’s what I’m hoping. Though I’m starting to think it’ll give me more satisfaction to just dispense with the payout and pitch you down the hill myself.”

MacCready’s eyes narrowed and his hands slid out of his pockets to cross over the wall of his chest.

“You just ‘effin try it, _shortie.”_

I waited all of two seconds before springing on the cheeky bastard; tossing the gun aside so that I could wrap my arms about his neck and headlock him. MacCready started struggling, dancing on the spot as he tried to wrench himself free. He quickly changed tactics and reached over his shoulder to grab my hat off of my head.

“Stop it!” He yelled, drawing his sidearm out and pointing it at the hat. “Stop it, or I’ll put a hole in it!!”

“Don’t you even _think_ about it!” I snarled back, reaching up with my fingers and latching hold of his earlobe. I started tugging at it, forcing his cheek down towards his shoulder as he yelped and used the hat to batter me instead. We were interrupted by Eve, who for some reason had interred herself so entirely in the bush that only the slightest crescent of her ass was now visible from behind the branches.

“Hey boys!” She called, causing the both of us to stop dancing about and glance over to see what it was she wanted. “I’ve found some kinda weird pod thing back here… Now my question is; can you eat the yellow stuff running out of it? It sorta looks like honey.”

A pod with yellow honey like stuff dripping out of it? MacCready and I both exchanged glances as we simultaneously came to the same conclusion. I released my hold on his neck and he jammed my hat back onto my head; so hard and fast that it shot down over my eyes and obscured my vision.

“Munch, that’s a fucking Stingwing’s nest! Get outta there!” I yelled, my warning coming moments too late as a cankerous buzzing sound filled the air.

To her credit, Eve didn’t waste any time with being confused but heeded my warning the second I sounded it out. She tugged herself quickly out of the bush but some of the branches caught and snagged her sweater and with a yelp she tripped and stumbled in an effort to regain her footing. She might have found it too, if not for the three or four pissed of Stingwing’s that erupted from behind the Fever bush and came darting down almost directly at her face.

Eve went for her gun but was too slow off the mark. The first Stingwing’s horrible Radscorpion like tail came swooping down and entered her high in the left shoulder; with a force so powerful it knocked her clear off of her puppy slippers and down the slope behind us. Her scream of pain quickly became mixed with fear as she landed hard on her side and started rolling down the hill like a spool of carpet behind swept along a hallway. Fever flowers rained down through the air as they were pitched dramatically from her arms; streaks of piercing vibrant light making their mark amidst the night sky.

Rather than stay and confront the Stingwing’s, Dogmeat went hurtling down the slope after Eve, barking and yapping his panic as his white fluffy ass disappeared out of sight. The four belligerent bugs went swooping down after the two of them; plainly intent on dealing with the pair of nosy homewreckers.

“SHIT!” I yelled, diving across the ground and scooping up my shotgun from where I had tossed it. I could already hear the sound of more Stingwing’s buzzing from inside the nest; no doubt anxious to join the fray. “Hold on Eve, we’re coming!!”

MacCready and I didn’t waste any time and vaulted over the incline, the both of us sort of bouncing on the sides of our boots as we recklessly navigated the unchecked terrain. MacCready has his torch back out and the beam was bouncing about all over the place, in an effort I think to keep track of Eve. The dancing light caught her eventually and I was relieved to see that Dogmeat had managed to ground one of the damn fucking Stingwing’s and was busy ripping apart its fragile body with his teeth.

Eve was face down on the ground, struggling to roll herself over but the other Stingwing’s were proving staunch competition. She scrambled about, trying to avoid their poisonous stingers, which were spraying up loose dirt from where they were striking the earth. My heart pounded in my chest as I saw her body suddenly jolt and realized that she hadn’t been able to avoid all the assaults. She let out a high-pitched shriek of pain and I felt the blood curdle in my veins.

“Fuck off, you goddamn BUGS!” I yelled, close enough now to angle my shot upward and keep Eve out of the blast range. One of the Stingwing’s blew apart on impact and its remains sloughed to the ground like so much putrescent toxic refuse. The distraction was enough for Eve to be able to draw her own gun and she twisted to look over her shoulder; face wrenched in pain as she squeezed back the trigger and blew apart the iridescent wings of the third Stingwing. It fell in a shrieking heap to the ground, turning in near circles as the loss of its wings destroyed what ability it had to capably steer itself. Its stinger was flipping indiscriminately all over the place, posing a whole new threat as it churned up loose pebbles and sent strands of dried grass whipping through the air. I blew the little fucker apart with my second shell and from behind me, I heard MacCready dispose of the fourth with one, no doubt, extremely precise shot.

“Shit, shit, _shit.”_ I hissed, dropping the shotgun to the ground so that I could kneel down beside Eve. She was writhing in agony; twisting from side to side with her eyes shut and her lips pulled so far back from her teeth I could see flashes of her gums in the light from MacCready’s torch. “How many times they jab ya, Munch?”

Eve puffed air out from between her lips and groaned, reaching one hand up to press to the bloodied wound in her left shoulder. “Just the… just the-the twice… I’m pretty sure. Felt like the little bastards… stuck a fire poker through me!!”

“Yeah, they tend to get a bit testy when someone goes poking around in their house, trying to eat their condiments.” I remarked, earning a hard, not at all appreciative smack to the arm from Eve in response. “Sorry, chicken. Bad time to be making jokes. You haven’t been hit in the face, neck or chest, have you?”

Eve flinched, shaking her head towards the ground as she shoved the magnum back into the holster on her hip. “No, none of those places… I don’t think it’s gonna kill me but… it hurts real fucking bad!!”

“Well they do that.” I stated, relieved to hear that none of Eve’s most vulnerable areas had been pierced. It would likely give us some time before the poison started making its way further into the blood stream and with a Stingwing bite, time was a precious commodity.

“There may be more of them.” MacCready puffed, crouching beside us and angling his torch light back the way we came. Sure enough, I could hear that distinct buzzing drone getting closer all the while and wagered we had less than half a minute before the second wave were onto us. “You get Evie under cover and check she’s okay. I’ll slow ‘em down as much as I can.”

I nodded as I scraped my shotgun off of the ground and tossed it to him, along with the four cartridges I had stashed inside of my jacket pocket.

“Use this. You’ll take out more of the little fuckers that way.” I said, watching long enough to ensure that MacCready knew how to load and handle the side by side before turning my attention out towards the darkness beyond where Eve lay squirming and moaning. By the vague light of the moon, I could see the building MacCready had mentioned earlier; a long structure consisting of a number of conjoined wings. Perhaps a hotel or some sort of other communal residential quarters. It would serve the purpose well enough; sheltering us from further attack and forcing the Stingwing’s into a pipeline from which they could easily dispatched.

I turned my attention back towards Eve. “Hey Munch, we need to get under cover so I can see what the damage is. There’s a building over there… probably about five hundred yards away. Can ya walk?”

I could already tell from the fact that she was still lying there and moaning what the answer would be. “I don’t know… I don’t think so, I can’t really feel one of my legs…”

I sucked air around my tongue. If Eve was losing feeling in her legs, there was a probability that one of the stingers had impacted a nerve in her back. That was the best-case scenario. Alternatively, a nodule in her spine had been pierced; which would eventually cause the disc to deteriorate and potentially render her legs and lower body useless. And there was no Stimpak to fix that shit.

“Fuck. Well, that’s not the best of signs.” I stated, rather pointlessly really as I reached down and scooped my right arm around her shoulders. “Just gotta roll ya over a bit so I can get a hold of you, okay?”

Eve’s eyes bulged and I felt the palm of her hand flap and strike out at my chest in an effort to push me back.

“No, no be careful! Be careful, it’s gonna hurt!!”

“Gonna hurt more to stay out here and wait for the rest of the family to catch up, Munch.” I explained, giving her a moment to brace herself before twisting and spinning her about so that lay on her back. She shrieked, unprepared for the pain which followed and clenched her teeth together in a bid to keep quiet. I looped my arm under her knees, pushing them up towards her abdomen so that I could better distribute her weight and then slid my other hand gently along the back of her shoulder. “It’s okay, darlin’. I gotcha. Now, just need ya to help a little and swing that arm of yours up around my neck.”

She fluttered her head in a tearful nod and quickly looped her arm up beneath my hat and about my shoulders. Her fingers clenched tight to the back of my jacket, scrunching and mauling a fistful as she worked to fight back the spasms of pain that were no doubt running through her.

“Good girl.” I said, pulling her in tight towards me and then shoving up hard and fast onto my feet. Her weight staggered me a little but I managed to keep my footing, aware all the while of the buzzing that was bearing down on us. “Been a while since I got to play the knight in shining armour. Nice to see some things ya never lose the touch for.”

“Yeah well, you’ll be wanting to hoof it in the direction of that there building, _‘knight.”_ MacCready grumbled, chambering two shells into the stock of the shotgun. “I’ll follow behind and keep them off as long as I can.”

“Right.” I said, jostling Eve in my arms to ensure that I had her secure before turning and trotting towards the shape of the building as it loomed out through the dark. “Don’t forget to squeeze the triggers separately! Don’t squeeze ‘em off at the same time or you’ll jam the thing!”

“I got it! Just _GO!”_ MacCready yelled, turning and aiming the barrel of the side by side up into the air as the sound of the buzzing intensified to a near deafening strain. I turned my shoulders full towards the building, running as fast as I was able with Eve’s weight bearing me down. Dogmeat strobed ahead of us, clearly meaning to make a path to ensure that his ‘mother’ would be safe from anything that might inhibit her from reaching shelter. I kept an eye tight to his flank, the tan fur flashing brighter than the surrounding darkness and giving me a point of reference for where I needed to go.

My feet slapped tarmac as Dogmeat lead us through what was once the adjacent carpark. His lithe body slipped between the skeletal remains of cars, streaking ahead straight once we had negotiated a path. A blast came from behind us, as MacCready fired off one of the barrels of the shotgun and not two seconds later, I could hear the pounding of his own footsteps as he reversed into the carpark and followed along in our wake.

We passed a sign, mostly splinters and mildewed rot at this stage but with enough writing still visible for me to briefly make out the words ‘Mystic Pines Nur… Facil’. By doing a quick letter substitution game in my mind, I guessed that the building had once been a nursing home for the elderly Boston citizens of Eve’s time. Which would explain the length and size of it; given how many nanna’s and papa’s it must have cared for back in the day.

Eve hissed and whimpered in my hold as I followed Dogmeat through a steel frame which must have once contained the thick glass panel comprising the front door. It was darker inside, naturally, though I was still able to make out the capsized form of the front desk and the torn, dismembered segments of chairs littered about and making nuisances of themselves. I could barely see for shit beyond this and for all of Dogmeat’s insistent barking from somewhere ahead of us, I couldn’t safely navigate in his direction without feeling like I might trip over something.

Then of course, it occurred to me. “Light on the Pip-boy…” I muttered to myself, reaching down and using my fingers to feel about the outside of the thick device snapped to Eve’s wrist. I located the slightly raised silicone button that I’d seen her use before and pressed and held it in. The screen soon blinked on a harsh green light that illuminated the entire area. I was able to now pick a path through the rubble without tripping over and killing both Eve and myself in the process. Dogmeat waited for us in the neighbouring corridor; stamping his feet and grizzling impatiently.

“All right, all right I’m getting there.” I griped, fetching my foot out from where it had hooked about a chairs steel leg and trotting quickly through the naked archway into the hall beyond. “Find us a place to perch our butts, pooch. Quickly now, ‘fore those bugs make their way inside.”

I had long since accepted the fact that Dogmeat was in possession of some strange, storybook like level of sentience and understanding and so it didn’t the least surprise me when he responded to my request with a bark and started trotting ahead of us down the corridor. Just in case I was dim-witted enough to not understand, he turned and barked lightly over his shoulder at me, a plain insistence that I follow along.

The green light from Eve’s Pip-boy lit the walls with a sickening looking iridescence that immediately put me on edge. It wasn’t often that I found myself spooked by things but I’d long been nervy about the possibility of the supernatural; namely those buildings from the old days that you might almost expect to be haunted. Hospitals, asylums, old age homes…

Not to say that I believe in ghosts. Not… really. I mean, I have seen some shit I find hard to explain. Though I also acknowledge the fact that I’ve spent a veritable chunk of my life stoned off of my ass, so it’s very likely that any number of things I’ve seen have been fabrications of my own chemically curdled mind. But still… they might not all be explained away, might they? And in this horrible, green light I could just imagine some pinched faced old crone, drifting out through one of the walls and reaching her twig like, wicked fingernails towards us. Moaning and shaking her chains… or catheter; whatever it was the old duck might have died with when the bombs fell. And I’d sure as shit turn and tuck tail from a ghost that was shaking a urine soaked bag at me, more than a length of rusty ass chain.

Another blast from outside confirmed that MacCready was still determinedly fighting off the Stingwing insurgence. I hoped that he had sense enough to back his ass into the building and force the bugs to tighten in; would have knocked the whole heap of them outta the sky that way. With any luck, he had seen off the more determined of the pests and was making his way towards us as even now.

Dogmeat veered off towards the left and started pawing at one of the few remaining doors in the hallway. Smart pooch. With a door still intact, we had a better chance of protection from attack.

“Clever little beast.” I praised and was slightly touched to see Dogmeat all but beam up at me; dancing from one foot to the next in that special way he usually only reserved for Eve. Perhaps he was starting to thaw after all.

I grabbed a hold of the door and shoved it hard to the side, quaking the rotten border in its foundations. The beam from Eve’s Pip-Boy lit the room, revealing a dilapidated television, perched atop an equally dilapidated stand, a rotted, gnawed upon armchair, a vase of wilted flowers by a barred window, a bedside table with the remains of an old magazine and a filthy dust covered plate and a steel frame bed, sporting a dirty, but still functional mattress. A door sat ajar just beyond the base of the bed, no doubt leading to an en-suite.

Dogmeat squeezed past my legs and bounded fearlessly into the room, hunkered down and stalking about with his ears pinned back. He nosed inside of the attached bathroom and then quickly backed out, turning and barking at me as though to indicate that the room was clear.

“Good enough for me.” I established, stepping inside of the room and quickly hurrying over to the bed. As the light further illuminated the mattress, I noticed at the very last moment that it had a current occupant. Or to be more specific; a previous occupant.

There wasn’t much left to the skeleton; only a tattered, likely once pink and flowered night dress that was torn and mildewed to the point that it barely possessed a resemblance to a piece of clothing at all. I thought perhaps of taking Eve out to another room but reasoned that we had already checked this one out and found it to be safe. Besides, a dead person was much easier to deal with than a living, potentially dangerous one.

“Pardon me madam but my lady friend shall be requiring the use of your divan.” I said, imitating Codsworth’s accent to the best of my abilities as I set Eve down on the edge of the mattress. Confused and uncertain as to who I was referring, Eve’s brows lowered over her eyes and then she slowly and suspiciously, rolled just enough to look over her shoulder. I tried to keep the arm with the Pip Boy away by keeping a hold of her wrist but she yanked it free and used it to illuminate the otherwise dark space between herself and the wall.

Upon seeing the brown, cavernous skull leering at her from less than a foot away; she let out a blood curdling screech.

“HANCOCK, WHAT THE _HELL?!!”_ She screamed, almost falling off of the bed as she windmilled wildly to escape from her decomposed roommate. I grabbed her under the shoulders, pushed her firmly back onto the mattress and then reached over to snag a hold of the skeleton’s dress.

“I was just about to move it – hang on!!” I scolded, groaning then to myself as I felt the horrible, squelchy fabric near turn to mush in my palms. It would likely fall apart if I tried to lift it like this, so I wrapped my hands up underneath the spine and tugged. The ribcage came along for the ride, leaving behind the leg bones, arms and sending the skull skittering down off of the rotted pillow and resting ‘face down’ in the crack between the mattress and the wall. I gave a sort of ‘Ah well, fuck it’ shrug and started to scoop up as many of the bones as I could, hurling them out into the hallway behind me the way that a dog tosses aside dirt when it’s digging a hole. Eve stared up at me; her eyes wide and mouth hanging open in bewilderment.

“It’s like you… don’t even see what you’re doing…” She murmured, ducking her head as I sent a tibia bone hurtling past her ear and smacking into the doorframe on its way into the corridor. Dogmeat went skittering after it in excitement; apparently having decided that we were playing some grisly game of fetch.

“She’s too dead to complain now, Munch. Can have ourselves a nice little ceremony later if you like but right now you’re the one with the pulse, so I’m afraid you’re gonna have to take priority over a coupla dry bones.” I scooped up the remains of the dress; tatters of which remained firmly fastened to a hip bone that had some sort of metal fixture. “Even one that was clearly some sort of… cyborg…”

Eve groaned and hissed as she turned and hung her head from the side of the bed. “It’s a hip replacement segment or something, I don’t know what they’re called. All I know is that I don’t wanna be lying on some filthy fucking mattress that some poor old biddy has been rotting on for two hundred years. For fucks sake, Hancock!!”

I tossed the hip bones off to the side and then dropped my hands down to perch to my own; giving Eve a very scolding look.

“Well, that’s a relief. You mustn’t be too close to death or else you wouldn’t be bitching so much.” I said, quirking up one of my brows as though to suggest she was being very ungrateful as to all the effort I was making to accommodate her. Eve moaned and whimpered, twisting on her side but clearly concerned about letting her wounds come into direct contact with the mattress. Sighing, yet acknowledging she had a point, I tugged my jacket down off of my arms and dropped it over beside her on the bed. “Come on then. See if you can stand for a moment.”

I leaned forward, scooping both arms around her and pulling her up hard and tight against me. She used my body as a sort of support beam, hanging off of my shoulders with her arm and puffing hot, painful sounding breaths against the side of my neck. If not for the circumstances I might have found myself enjoying the situation. She felt so warm and soft. But the kid was also in a great deal of pain and didn’t need me dallying about whilst getting off on the feel of her.

I freed one of my arms and reached over to grab my coat; spreading it out across the mattress to create a relatively clean barrier between herself and the dirtied fabric.

“Here ya go, chicken.” I stated, easing her back down. She swivelled quickly, avoiding resting on her back and eased onto her side once more. I took the age-old pillow and tossed it aside, reefing off my waistcoat and bundling it up to make a support for her head. Dogmeat appeared at my side as I was setting her to rights, the tibia bone clenched between his teeth and his tail waggling madly from side to side.

“Seriously? That’s in very poor taste, Pooch. That used to be someone’s Grandma you know.” I took the bone from his mouth and waggled it at his nose. “Shame on you.” I said, turning and pitching it back towards the open doorway. It barely missed MacCready, who ducked out of the way as the bone went whistling past his nose.

“Shit!-vers.” He cursed and then groaned the more for realizing that he had failed to not curse. “God, I’ve got to stop doing that! Anyway, why the hell you throwing bones at me, man?”

“There’s some half-assed pun we could make about me throwing you a bone but we might just skip it for now.” I murmured, tucking Eve’s head gently on top of the waistcoat before kneeling down beside the bed. “There. Does that suit her majesty better?”

Eve groaned, twisting on her side as she shot me a rather contemptuous look. “Indubitably, _thankyou.”_ She pursed her lips, wriggling about so that her legs were resting more comfortably. I assisted in the endeavour by unclipping her holster and placing both it, and the attached gun, just underneath the bed. “You know my standards aren’t that high, I just have a teeny tiny issue about sharing bed linen with a corpse, okay? I should think that would concern most people but apparently you’re all down with curling up with the maggots!”

I shrugged as I reached down to readjust the coat from where it was bunching. “I wasn’t sure we were going to find another room that’s as safe as this one. Besides, it wasn’t that disgusting. I think someone might have just dumped her bones here for some reason. Anyway, you clear those Stingwing’s off, Mac?”

He nodded as he whipped his hat off of his head; using it to mop the sweat from his brow. “Bout five more came hurtling after us. Things get super touchy over their nests, huh?” He gestured to Eve with his now sodden hat. “She’ll be needing some anti-venom quick smart for those stings.”

“Too right.” I said, turning and looking at him with a worried twist of my lip. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any on hand?”

He shook his head. “All back at the camp. We could probably try making a move for it now. Take the long way back to avoid the nest.”

“Camps up on higher ground. No way of knowing how long it’ll take us to get back up there.” I stated, wiping my hands on my trouser legs and then using the backs of my fingers to feel Eve’s sweat prickled forehead. She was feeling a little warm, which likely meant that the poison was working its way into her system. “And we’d make for easy pickings with anything coming along. Too risky. Better to stay here, get the others to come out and bring the anti-venom.”

“Well, I’ll run back.” MacCready said, tossing the shotgun down onto the ground beside me and working to quickly reload his own sidearm. I waved my hand at him again.

“No, it’s better you stay here and keep watch while I do what triage I can. The dog can run back and get them.” I snapped my fingers and whistled, ushering Dogmeat out of the hallway with the slightly now chewed tibia still clutched between his teeth. MacCready glanced at him sceptically.

“Uh, you sure about this, boss? I don’t know if I’d trust Dogmeat to, you know, get the message across.”

“Trust me. This is one pooch who knows how to get a message across.” I said, taking a hold of the bone and trying to pull it out from Dogmeat’s mouth. He immediately assumed that we were having a tug of war and started fighting for possession of the grotty thing. I managed to extract it and shook it firmly in the pooch’s face. “Enough of that now! This is serious. I need you to go and get Nick. Get him to bring our bags. All three of ours.” I pointed individually to myself, MacCready and Eve. MacCready continued staring at me as though I were touched in the head. “Go on now. You can have the bone when you get back.”

Dogmeat cocked his head at me as though he had been taking every damn word on board. When I finished speaking, he gave a soft ‘ruff’ of acknowledgement before turning and bounding out of the room. MacCready watched him go and then slid the door shut in his wake, giving an unconvinced cluck of his cheek.

“I dunno. Reckon you’ve smoked maybe a wee too much of that old Chark tonight, boss.” He mused, traipsing over to stand beside the bed. I glared at him, slightly annoyed.

“Judge me all ya want later, kid but time is of the essence. We need to try and get the poison out before it does too much damage.” I looked at MacCready uncertainly. “I think we should try sucking it out.”

Eve’s palm made loud slapping sounds against the mattress. “That’s… for snake bites and it’s a fucking _myth!_ That shit doesn’t work, it’s all just movie puff and smoke!”

MacCready groaned softly as he tilted his head back towards the ceiling. “Don’t know about ‘snakes’ Evie but sucking poison from a Stingwing bite can actually buy some time. It’s slow acting, ya see and it tends to sorta linger for a while in the bite zone before making its way to the… limpatic system?”

“Lymphatic.” I corrected, reaching over and gently stroking my fingers to the back of Eve’s head. “You in much pain right now?”

She coughed and then paused long enough to clear her throat. “No… no it’s okay. Not nearly as bad as having a baby. Just feeling a bit weird and…woozy.”

I chuckled as I unbuckled the Pip-Boy from around her wrist and set it down on the bedside table; where the light was better able to illuminate her body. Her shoulder was drenched near red from where the sting had entered her but with her back faced away from me, so I wasn’t able to check the second wound.

“Man.” I mused. “I’ve been bitten by a Stingwing before and it hurts pretty god damned bad. How much does having a crotch droppling hurt if a giant poisoned stinger doesn’t even come close?”

Eve managed the smallest smile; though her eyes were still squeezed shut and leaking tears. “Shaun was a… ten-and-a-half-pound thumper. I had a nineteen-hour delivery and he got stuck towards the end of it. I had to have an episiotomy, with only gas to suck on so that I could still push.”

MacCready hissed air from between his teeth. “What’s an… episiotomy?”

“It’s a procedure where the doctor pretty much cuts part of the perineum to make the vaginal opening bigger.” Eve stated, which pretty much sent the both of us to collapsing on the floor, holding onto our nuts. This actually made her laugh a little, so the horror hadn’t been wasted. “They stitched it back up afterwards, it’s not like they’ve left me with just one big hole down there you know.”

I stared at her, absolutely perplexed and somehow all the more admiring of womankind in general for the shit they had to go through to continue to perpetuate the species.

“You let someone actually do this to you? Fuck a freakin’ duck, Munch.”

“Don’t reckon you’d be fu- shagging much of anything after that.” MacCready remarked, still hunkered over and clutching the window frame with one hand and his ball sack with the other.

Eve gave a small shrug. “There was no other option. I couldn’t get a caesarean that late in the delivery and if we didn’t get Shaun out we both could have died.” She muttered in a sort of offhand matter. “Fifty-five fucking stitches… I’ve got to make sure I tell him that when I finally find him. Hope he’s grateful, the little bastard. I lost almost half my blood supply just bringing him into this world…”

“Well, if he isn’t, he bloody well should be. I’ll never doubt how tough you are after hearing that. Now.” I clapped my hands together. “Not that a torn vagina story isn’t all well and educational but you, my dear, aren’t getting any better laying there with all that poison in you. So, in spite of what a truly scarring experience it will be for us gentlemen, I think you have little choice but to let us suck you off.”

She did actually manage another laugh at this; though I think it was quite outside of her will. “No, no I’m sure it’ll be fine ‘til the other guys get here. They’re less than what? Fifteen minutes away. I’m sure I can last that long if the poison is slow acting.”

MacCready gave another unconvinced sounding groan from somewhere in the dark behind me. “Slow acting in regards to entering the… limbo system, Evie. Not slow acting in regards to how it eats into your muscles. That’s where the real danger of Stingwing venom lies.”

“All the more dangerous if you’ve been hit in the spine.” I added, which roused an irritated sounding moan from Eve.

“Don’t either one of you have a Stimpak? Just whack me with that and all’ll be well, eh?”

I sighed impatiently, taking my hand from the back of her head and draping it over my knee instead. “No miss, that’s not _quite_ how it works. When a Stingwing stings you, the tip of the stinger snaps off and buries itself in the skin. You jam a Stimpak into ya and the skin and muscle will heal around the stinger; which would then need to be cut out with a scalpel later on. Causing more damage. Ya see, there’s more to this than just treating the venom.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes at her. “What, do you think the Stimpak’s just going to magically disintegrate the stinger? Honestly. I don’t know what they taught you dopes back in 2077. Now… where did you get stung?”

I could see Eve’s face flushing in the light from the Pip-Boy and she used her finger to indicate up towards her shoulder. “Here.” She said and then, with an embarrassed glance down towards the mattress, lowered her hand and indicated just over her hip. “And… here.”

I picked up the Pip-Boy and raised it over the bed; setting my hand on her hip to try and turn her over a bit but she refused to budge.

“You’re gonna need ta help me here, Munch. It’s a bit dark to see what you’re pointing at.”

Eve hissed, turning and burying her face into my waistcoat. When next she spoke, her voice was extremely muffled.

“It’s in my ass, okay?!”

I blinked at her, fighting back the overwhelming urge to crack a grin as MacCready, not quite so concerned with sensitivity, erupted into peals of laughter behind me.

“In your uh… _buttock_ region?”

One of Eye’s eyes glared up at me unappreciatively from my waistcoat. “Yes, dick. In my _buttock_ region. My left buttock region, if you care to be more specific.” She slid her face back out of sight, moaning with embarrassment as I succumbed to very cheerful chuckles. “Now do you see why I don’t want either of you guys… sucking on me?! And would you fucking stop laughing!! It’s not _FUNNY!!”_

“Oh, it’s real funny.” MacCready cracked, bent over with his hands pressed to his knees as he laughed so hard I thought he might hyperventilate and pass out at any moment. I was being a little more discreet, covering my mouth with my hand but all this did was produce nasty raspberry sounds that were probably more offensive than me just cutting loose the way MacCready was doing.

“Sorry, Munch. But it is pretty fucking funny.” I said, descending into laughter once again as Eve glared sulkily up at me from the mattress. Like I had betrayed her somehow. “Unless of course the stinger got ya right in the bullseye and if that’s the case, you’re bein’ a right proper trooper about it.”

She gave me another hard smack to the arm. “No it didn’t bloody travel up main street, thank you very much!! It is in the cheek of the buttock. Probably because it’s the biggest damn part of me to aim for.” She groaned softly, reaching back with one of her hands and pressing to her lower back. “Doesn’t half fucking sting. Even with all the fat acting as a barrier.”

“Well, think of it this way; it could have been a lot worse.” I did a very poor job of disguising my amusement. “At least your tooshie has enough fat to cushion the impact of the stinger.”

Eve sat up, mouth gaping in indignation. “Are you saying I have a fat bum?”

I laughed as I urged her to lay back down. “No, I meant that everyone’s ass has that little bit of extra tissue, don’t take it so personal.” And as Eve slumped back down onto the mattress, added from the corner of my mouth. “Especially one with enough tissue to stock a toilet paper factory for a good decade…”

She swung her arm back to try and give me a smack but the injury in her shoulder crippled the effort and she collapsed back onto the mattress whimpering and sobbing. I gently caressed the small of her back.

“Take it easy. Don’t go overexerting yourself.”

Eve groaned, peering up at me from between one slanted eye. “What if it’s gone so deep you can’t remove it?”

“Then you’ll have to get a doctor to jiggle it out for you if they can but if it’s just stuck in your ass then it’s not too bad.” I took out my lighter and then jerked my leg forward so as to have access to the holster on my thigh. I slid my knife out from its’ sheathe and held the tip steady in the flame I exhumed from the lighter. “Let’s have a look at your shoulder first. That one should be easier, given it’s likely closer to the surface. Mac.” I whistled at him from between my teeth. “Get that torch over here and hold it on Munch’s shoulder, eh? Help me see what I’m doing.”

“Right.” MacCready said, switching the torch back on; the whiteness of the light even more startling in contrast to the green glow from Eve’s Pip-Boy. He came and leant over beside me, angling the beam down as Eve struggled awkwardly to sit perched on her side.

“Went in just… here…” She said, tugging down the side of her jumper and pyjama top; all of which were sodden with blood. She glanced towards the glowing tip of the knife and audibly swallowed. “Gonna hurt like shit, ain’t it?”

“Ain’t gonna feel good.” I confirmed, reaching down and pulling my handkerchief out from my jacket pocket. I used the clean portions of it to wipe the blood away from the wound, feeling small flinches in my heart as Eve hissed in pain.

The penetration mark sat amidst a slightly raised purpling hillock of flesh. It oozed a mixture of blood and a viscous, amber coloured substance. Using the clean part of the handkerchief to keep my fingers covered, I pinched the penetration mark as gently as possible, pushing up so I could feel how far the stinger had gone in.

“Ow…” Eve whimpered softly, turning her head away and biting her lip as I twiddled my finger and thumb as softly as I was able. It caused more blood and venom to ooze out and I wiped quickly at it with the corner of the handkerchief.

“Sorry darlin’.” I said, finally feeling the hard point of the stinger roll beneath my thumb. I pressed underneath it, forcing it back closer to the site of penetration and focused my eyes at the hole; trying to see it from amongst the congealing blood. The black point finally came into view and I slowly and carefully eased the tip of the knife blade in beneath it. Eve’s fists clenched the folds of my jacket and she sank her cheek against her opposite shoulder. Her lips were pressed so tightly together that each subsequent whimper of pain was further muffled.

“It’s okay, Munch. Nearly got it…” I said, having spoken just as the stinger itself was forced up and out of the skin. I flicked it away with the tip of the knife and immediately wished that I had thought to brush my teeth earlier. Because I can’t imagine the next part was likely to be that sanitary. “It’s out. But now comes the really awkward part. Ya ready?”

“Just do it…” Eve groaned, still facing away and hardly looking the least excited that I was going to be sucking on her shoulder. “Can’t be as bad as what’s to come, anyway…”

I chuckled as I plucked my hat off of my head and hung it from the headboard of the bed; knowing that the brim was likely to get in the way.

“Okay. Just… try and control yourself, yeah?” I said, leaning in and using my hand to keep the bite mark plumped up. This would help to push more of the venom to the surface anyway, though I knew that squeezing was actively discouraged.

At the last moment, I swiped my tongue about my mouth; checking for any open sores or ulcers I might have forgotten about. Fast way to poison yourself if you had open skin or wounds in your cheeks or gums.

Satisfied that my mouth was in reasonable nick, I leaned in and placed my lips about the sting site. I felt a shiver go through Eve’s body, which ratcheted all the way along her shoulders. I wondered if she might have liked the feeling of my mouth pressed against her but remembered that it was a cold night and her injury was likely causing her pain. Much as it would have pleased me to think otherwise.

I sucked inward, compacting my cheeks and using my fingers to gently manipulate the flesh to try and encourage the venom out. What I tasted first was the tart, unnatural flavour of the blood. And then my tongue started to feel the slightest bit numb from the poison.

“It looks like she’s breast feeding you.” MacCready snorted from beside me and I shot him an insolent look as I turned and spat onto the floor by his boot. He flinched away with another laugh. “Seriously ya got no idea how weird it looks from this angle.”

“Gonna get a hell of a lot weirder shortly.” I muttered, spitting off to the side again and then pushing my lips back against Eve’s shoulder. I massaged the flesh again and sucked, feeling more hot, nasty wetness invade my mouth. Eve’s blood or not, the combination was not one I could say I enjoyed.

I repeated the process twice over, uncertain as to how many sucks were required to be satisfactory. (Not a problem I was unfamiliar with, to be fair). It’s not like there was a handbook on this sort of thing. I was tempted more than the once to drop my lip a little lower and lather it gently over her unaffected flesh; take a nice little taste of her while I had the opportunity but I suppressed the urge. This was not the manner of thing you imposed on a lady when she was entrusting you to her care.

When I felt that I had done the best job I was capable of with her shoulder, I wiped the inside of my mouth with my finger to clean it up as much as possible. The next part was going to be especially awkward, though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking the slightest bit forward to it. Gentlemen or no.

“Okay, Munch.” I said, pulling her sodden singlet and pyjama top back into place and easing her stomach down onto the mattress. “Know you ain’t gonna like it much, but I’m gonna need ya to pull down your pants so I can take a look.”

Eve shot a look over her bloodied shoulder as though the entire idea was positively absurd. Never mind that this was where the source of her injury lay, from her expression you would think that the two of us were angling intentionally for a peek at her posterior. Not the case at all. Crumbs from the cake, and all that.

“What? Why?”

I found myself trying to preserve patience again but it wasn’t always an easy thing for me to do in general; especially when I was coming down off of my Chems’ and losing my buzz from the grog I’d drunk before.

“Like I just said; we need to dig the stinger out before we can suck out the poison and administer the Stimpak.” I held up my hands in defence. “Now, you don’t have to freak, I have seen a bare ass before, believe it or not.”

Her palm lashed out and caught me on the lower arm. The light from her Pip-Boy made the shadows beneath her brows look even more dark and obvious.

“Fuck off, I’m not taking off my pants in front of the two of you!”

I leaned back from the bed a little and crossed my arms across my chest. “Fine then. You’ll just have to deal with it until we get back to one of the settlements and you can see a doctor.” I shook the tip of the knife at her. “And good luck walking with a stinger in your butt is all I’m saying because I won’t be carrying you, your guns, your loot and your silly punctured patootie all the way across the Wasteland simply because you were too embarrassed to take off your trousers.”

Eve moaned again; a mixture of pain and annoyance as she dropped her forehead down into her makeshift pillow. “But I have stretch marks!!”

Both MacCready and I scoffed at the same time. “Jesus Christ, you did notice that I’m a ghoul, right? My whole face is like one big stretch mark.” I stood up and made a show of going to unknot my sash. “What, would it make you feel better if I showed you my ass first?”

“Might put you out like a light for the whole procedure at least.” MacCready suggested from somewhere behind my shoulder, went sent both Eve and I to chuckling. She winced with pain instantly however and padded her hand through the air.

“Please don’t make me laugh, right now!” She begged, before turning and distributing a sigh of defeat down towards the mildewed linoleum floor. “Fine, I’m not going to be silly about it. Just…” And she turned to stare at us imploringly. “-don’t carve off one of my cheeks accidentally, okay? I find they help me sit down when I wanna have the occasional rest. And don’t judge me on my dimples and lax waxing regime, it’s been a long nuclear winter.”

“I’ll do my best.” I promised, believing that my only thoughts on the condition of her ass were to be positive and likely perverted ones. Given how they looked in her trousers every single day, I could only imagine what great shape it was in; even without the support of her pants and knickers.

Eve whimpered as she slowly undid the ties in the front of her pyjama pants and slid her thumbs down past the elastic strap. She attempted to pull them down on her own but quickly dissolved into sobs. In the light from MacCready’s torch, I could see that the back of her pants were entirely soaked in blood. She must have been in a great deal of pain whenever she attempted to shift herself about.

“Hey…” I said, turning and twisting the Pip-Boy light off to the side so as to not illuminate too much of her lower torso. “Not to make any of this seem opportunistic but you want me to give you a hand there?”

I was half expecting her to refuse, so it came as something of a surprise when she did in fact give a weak nod.

“Yeah sorry… it might be easier. Be as gentle as you can, okay?”

“Hey, I’m always gentle when it’s a girls first time.” I said, chuckling as I used one hand to guide Eve more directly onto her stomach. MacCready assisted by giving me sufficient light to work with. “Just relax and raise your pelvis as much as you can off of the mattress, Munch. That’ll help a bit.”

She laughed a little at this. “Jesus, sounds like the plot of a bad porno, way things are going. Shit.” Clenching her teeth, she lifted her pelvis and I used the angle to quickly tug her pyjama bottoms over her backside and down to her thighs; just enough to see where the stinger entered. Just as I’d suspected, her ass was full, round and pert; the slightest hint of each cheek showing from beneath each ‘leg’ of her panties. One side was entirely stained with blood and it took a lot of effort to remind myself that she was needing my assistance to deal with the injury; not using it as an opportunity to scope her out. But still that ass...

“Focus.” I heard MacCready hiss into my ear and I shot my foot back to smack him hard in the shin, causing him to wince and hop about for a moment. Content that I had put him in his place for the time being, I returned to assessing Eve’s injury. It looked as though it had fortuitously entered into the highest peak of her buttock and had not gone too far inside. Wouldn’t leave much of a scar, thank goodness. Not like that lovely one my mother was so kind to bestow to me with the radio antenna. And on an ass like Eve’s, such a desecration would be truly a crime.

Not that a little teasing wasn’t always in order. I made a big point of sitting back and clutching my palm to my chest.

“Oh my God…”

Eve immediately sat up; big eyes all ablaze with concern. “What? What is it? Is it bad?”

“No, no it’s not that.” I said, shaking my head and quirking up the side of my lip teasingly. “It’s just… not sure how I’m going to pry it out of all this cellulite…”

Eve groaned and laughed in the same beat, sinking her forehead back against my waistcoat. “I told you not to make me laugh!”

“Laughter is the best medicine they say. Well, that and Med-X. Now, lay as still as you can – I’m gonna dig it out. I’ll use the knife again, sorry chook - may take a minute and it ain’t gonna feel too nice. You’re just gonna have to tough it out as much as possible, okay?”

“Do I gotta remind you about the episiotomy story again?” Eve grumbled, before rolling up the sleeve of my jacket and slipping it between her teeth. Her next words came as a muffled garble from around the gummed material. “Just… get it out, okay?”

“Right…” I said, once more using the cleanest portion of my handkerchief to wipe blood from the curve of Eve’s ass. I knew that she was likely to be less than pleased by my next request but based on what I could see, there really weren’t many other choices. “Oooo-kay. Not the most helpful of things…”

“What’s not helpful?” Eve asked blearily, batting her half-lidded eyes over her shoulder at me as she loosed my jacket sleeve from her gob. MacCready did the honours of flicking the torch light down towards her backside.

“The bullets gone right through your under-drawers.” He said, making a jabbing motion with the index finger of his spare hand. “Punched a hole clear through ‘em.”

Eve sighed, dropping her face back down into my waist coat. “Damn… those were my favourite pair, too!”

It was my turn to roll my eyes now as I wiped away the once more welling blood, reminding myself not be enjoying the view so much. They were a nice pair of cooch covers, I’ll confess but why women worry about the condition of their knickers when all us blokes really care about is what beneath them always baffles me.

“That wasn’t actually what was worrying me.” I said, slinging my handkerchief over my shoulder so it would be in easy reach should I require it again. “Just that, I’ll need to move your drawers out of the way to get to the injury.”

Eve shot an insolent look over her shoulder. “What are you serious? Now you want me to take off my _knickers?”_ She waved her hand in the air. “What’s next, will I need to take off all of my clothes so that they don’t get dirty during the procedure?!”

“Hey, just remember you offered.” I said, chuckling as Eve gave a little giggle in spite of her apparent annoyance. “Seriously though, I only need to shift your underpants to the side a little. Just wanted to let you know so you don’t act all surprised when I yank them up your crack.”

Eve sighed and lifted her chin slightly so that her gaze, I think, was cast towards the ceiling. “You couldn’t have found a more delicate and gentlemanly way to phrase that following procedure, Hancock?”

“You were nerd when you were a kid, right? Sure, it’s not the first time it’s ever happened.” I said, lowering my hand and pinching up the elastic lined side of her knickers. It was crazy just how hard my heart was pounding as I shifted them over to rest in the crack of her backside, leaving her left buttock exposed. MacCready’s own breathing sounded a little heavier from behind me, so at least I could be assured that I wasn’t the only one getting something out of this. I mean, asides from the swelling of the bite and the streaks of blood still staining her skin… that was one nice ass. Her jokes about cellulite aside, I could only detect in the dim light the few slightest lines of stretch marks and the rest was so plump and taut I bet I could have bounced a bottle cap off of it. I took a swallow, because my mouth was entirely too dry to allow my voice to sound as professional as required and gave the wound another quick wipe with the handkerchief. “There. Was that so bad, ya big baby?”

Eve’s response was to groan, and clutch my waistcoat tighter to her chest. “Christ, why did this have to happen when I was out with you guys of all people?”

“What’s so bad about it happening with us?” MacCready said, sounding just about as offended as if Eve had just made some insolent crack about his mother. Looking bothered, sweaty and irritable, she still made a point of trying to assuage him, by dabbing her hand through the air at him.

“Don’t… take it personal, Mac! I just… would have been more comfortable with one of the girls… or even Nick.”

I raised my brow as I once more sterilized the tip of the knife with my lighter. “What about Deacon? Or failing that, some random schmuck you were travelling with out here that you barely knew from Adam? Okay, you’re going ta feel some pain as the blade goes in. Try and tough it out.”

Eve shuddered and then winced as I eased the knife under her skin as gently as possible, using the handkerchief and my fingers once more in an attempt to push the stinger to the surface. “Ugh – fuck _no._ This would have been even more horribly awkward. If that was… at all possible!” She hissed, whimpering in pain as she clutched the waistcoat tighter to her chest.

“Look, don’t sweat it.” I said, trying to make a joke out of it as I finally felt the hard curl of the stinger shift beneath my fingers. “We’re partners, that’s what partners do. You just remember this one day if I get stung in the jacksy by a Radscorpion and need you to suck the venom out, because I’ll expect you to do so with a smile.”

Eve chuckled at the notion of this and then flinched in pain as I lowered the blade of the knife another notch. “Ow…”

“Besides… I thought…” I trailed off, not prepared now of all times to delve into the minute intricacies of our relationship. Especially not with MacCready standing there; earwigging and all. “Nah. Never mind.”

But such was Eve’s way, she was hardly in the department of simply letting things go. With a groan and a fist tightened further into my jacket, she glared straight ahead into the shadowed wall.

“Come on, don’t be like that. What-” She flinched again. “-What were you gonna say?”

“Don’t stress.” I said, as I finally managed to leverage the point of the knife beneath the stinger. “Wasn’t nothin’ important.”

Eve chanced a quick, surly glance over her shoulder. “Sure it was if you were going to say it. Go on, you know you don’t need to be embarrassed about being honest with me.”

Well, it was hardly just her and I in the room now, was it? And considering that MacCready had just found himself the fifty caps richer for getting in the way of whatever was developing between the two of us, I was half expecting the torch to come crashing down on the top of my head at any given moment. But then I figured; fuck it. Eve would just keep at it, just like Dogmeat with that Tibia bone. No matter how far I tried to hurl the issue, she would just keep coming back to me with it.

“I just figured that you and me… that we were tight, you know?” I said, pointedly ignoring MacCready’s knee as it pushed into the wall of my spine. “We travel together the most, when we all get together you and I hang out the most, we get along like a house on fire… It just surprised me to hear that you would be more comfortable with any one of the others doing this. Except for Deacon, of course.”

“The reason I’d be more comfortable with the girls is because they’re girls, not necessarily because they’re closer.” Eve explained, crossing her arms out in front of herself and then resting her chin on them. Occasionally, her shoulders cinched in as she felt a pinch of pain. “And Nick… well, he’s a synth and he doesn’t seem to have any sort of… interest in…”

I quirked my brow up. “In what? Women’s bodies, is that what you were going to say?”

She shrugged a little, her head turning distinctively towards the left and away from where I was kneeling. I must have embarrassed her. “Yeah.”

I felt a flash of annoyance, likely reinforced by the fact that she hadn’t been wrong in assuming that I had taken some pleasure in looking at her body. But of course, I was too proud (and embarrassed) to admit that. “And what, you figured I wouldn’t be able to control myself if you got your caboose out in front of me?” I leaned over her shoulder, lowering my voice a little so that it hopefully sounded a little dangerous. “News flash toots; yours ain’t the first rear I’ve ever seen and I’m not so deprived I’m gonna shoot my load just by helping you extract a fucking bug stinger.” I followed this up my jabbing upward with the knife, pushing the stinger towards the surface with perhaps a little more force than I might otherwise have done. Eve shrieked with pain, her eyes prickling and shining as they glared over her shoulder at me.

“OW!” She all but yelled and her fist actually made contact with my arm now; slamming me hard enough to leave a throbbing, stinging mark. She certainly wasn’t one to be trifled with when she was in one of her rare moods. “Now you’re just being nasty!”

I glared back at her, more upset and embarrassed by the fact that she hadn’t been wrong but not wanting to have been found out about it.

“I do that when people make me out to be some kinda pervert, Munch. Do you actually think I would do anything inappropriate to someone I think so highly of?” I grumbled, as I reached back with my spare hand, forcing MacCready’s beam to focus back directly on the wound. I think he might have been embarrassed to look too closely just in case. “Jesus Christ, would you just – point that thing over here, boy? There ain’t a stinger stuck in the carpet!”

Eve winced again as I once more made to push the barb towards the surface. It seemed to be having a harder time to extract than the one that had been in her shoulder.

“Oh – I’m not making you out to be some sort of pervert! Don’t be so sensitive, John, you know I don’t think that!” She all but yelled, her fingernails abandoning their hold about my waistcoat and slamming into the mattress of the bed. She scratched and clenched, sobbing a little as the pain started to overcome her. “I just thought it would be a little awkward because…. you’re… straight and I’m… straight! We’re… You know… That’s all, it’s got nothing to do with anything about your character, you know how much I care about you.”

I softened a little at her words; thinking back to earlier when I’d been almost certain that she’d been about to let me kiss her. Trying not to let myself be overcome with petty, immature thoughts. “Yeah, sorry toots. That was dumb of me.” I returned to my efforts of removing the stinger; only attempting to do so with a great deal more gentility now. It still didn’t seem to want to budge however. “Jesus, this thing is nestled in good.” I grunted, dispensing with the handkerchief and using my fingers to press apart the flesh on Eve’s left buttock; keeping the skin taut so that the barb would work its way easier to the surface. Eve cast a look over her shoulder and managed a slight smile.

“After what we just talked about, you figured you’d just go and grab my butt anyway?”

I shrugged my shoulder flippantly. “Hey, this is what straight friends do, I don’t know what you and your other straight friends get up to but I can assure you that my other straight friends and I often grab each other on the butt to express our friendship. Well, at least Adrian and I do.” As Eve laughed at this, I used the distraction to give the knife another determined little squiggle. “I’m trying to keep your butt steady so I can get a hold of this damn stinger.”

Even in the dim light from MacCready’s torch, I could see Eve’s brow shoot up. “What, are you saying it’s wiggling about too much?”

“Oh, only about as much as three hundred pounds of chewed bubble-gum.” I joked, throwing my shoulder back in time to avoid another punch from Eve. “Hey, take it easy now or you’re going to lose this knife in a place you’ll only be able to feel when you sit down.”

Eve sank back down into the jacket, moaning softly to herself. “Oh God, this is a nightmare… I’m still inside the cryogenic freezer and I’m just… having a nightmare…”

“I don’t think many nightmares can compete with this for being purely whacked out, Munch. Truth is stranger than fiction, as they say.” I said, chuckling to myself as the black tip of the awful Stingwing barb came into view. I prised it carefully from her flesh and then, because it still gave me some difficulties, used my fingers to tug the bastard of a thing free. “There we go… gotcha.”

“It’s out?” Eve murmured, panting with relief.

“Yeah, it’s out, toots.” I said, giving her a pat to the non-injured cheek of her backside as MacCready foisted his own sigh of relief in the backdrop. “Well done.”

“Can I see it?”

“Heh, weirdo. There you go.” I said, passing the stinger around for Eve to take a look at it. “’Bout the size and thickness of a 10mm bullet. And would do just about as much damage, give or take.”

Eve took the stinger and examined it; turning it this way and that as though there was something more intricate to be gained from its simplistic appearance.

“Funny how something so small can do so much damage…”

“I’m sure folks say the same thing about Cait.” I chuckled, all the while mentally preparing myself for the next step of the procedure. Jesus this was going to be difficult not to get excited by. “Okay, now that the fun part’s done with… ya ready?”

Eve moaned, flicking the stinger off to the side and splaying her arms across the mattress as though she had been liberally hurled onto a medieval rack. Talk about dramatic. “Oh God… I’d almost forgotten about this bit.” She turned and glanced earnestly over her shoulder at the two of us; eyes darting back and forth between Mac and myself. “I… I don’t wanna try and embarrass you Mac but… do you think you might be able to… do this one?”

I felt my heart slam to a stop in my chest at her words; feeling injured in a way that I hadn’t quite ever experienced before. I hadn’t ever been the type to take such things personally but I felt for a moment as though Eve was suggesting she either didn’t trust me, or perhaps she simply didn’t want my mouth to go anywhere near such an intimate part of her body. I wasn’t quite sure how to take it. MacCready, the torch light starting to noticeably shake, must have been as clearly perplexed as I was.

“What you want… _me_ to do it?” He queried in an incredulous (and slightly high pitched) tone. The torch light flicked back towards me briefly. “When Hancock’s already so used to kissing your ass?”

I slammed my fist around into the side of his thigh again, causing him to semi-curse and hop back, sending dust up from the until recently undisturbed linoleum floor. I wasn’t quite in the mood to appreciate his cracks (no pun intended) at that juncture.

“Oh, stop it!” Eve scolded, her fair brows slanting down over her shadowed eyes. “I’m asking because I’m worried that John’s already taken too much poison into his system when he… sucked from the other wound. If you take on any more…”

“Munch, I’ll be fine.” I insisted, not the least interested in having MacCready steal this opportunity away from me. An opportunity, mind you, that the little philistine appeared to have no appreciation of or interest in. “If it were just the two of us out there somewhere we’d have no choice but for me to do it.”

Eve gave me a firm look and her trembling, sweaty palm crept down to clutch to the back of my wrist. “But we do have a choice, sweetheart. And I don’t want you going and getting sick on account of me.” She gave my wrist a firm squeeze and then looked up at MacCready, gesturing towards her with her chin. “Mac? Stop being such a goddamned baby and come over here and suck my ass.”

MacCready groaned loudly, doing a little dance on the spot like he was still some pre-pubescent child afraid of the cooties.

“Oh man. Oh man, oh man, oh man…” He chanted, shoulders slumping as he finally, grudgingly approached the bed. I rose, all but snatching my gun and the torch back off of him and slamming my hat down onto my head. My mood was foul and I was nearly tempted to whip him about the temple with the stock of the shotgun but like most of my impulses that night, I managed to reign it in.

MacCready leaned close to me, his expression uncertain in the shadows thrown by the so far misdirected beam of the torch light. “So… how exactly do I…? What do I-?”

“Check to see your mouth doesn’t have any cuts, abrasions or ulcers in it first.” I instructed, watching as he probed about the inside of his gob with his tongue. “Ya can’t go sucking out the poison and riskin’ it goin’ straight into your system. Then use this-” I shoved the bloodied handkerchief into his chest. “- to pinch the puncture mark and suck on it. Surely if you’ve sucked a tit in your time you shouldn’t have any trouble with it.”

“That’s the way, John. Go and embarrass me and the boy even further.” Eve remarked drowsily from the bed and I was oh so tempted to spin about and remind her that I wouldn’t have had any such issues or concerns with dealing with the injury. It was her concern for my welfare that was causing us to waste time on me explaining the procedure to someone who apparently had no experience sucking a venom wound.

“Hey, you’re the one who told him to trundle on over and ‘suck your ass’. I hardly think what I said could embarrass him any further.” I kept the shotgun lowered at my side, finger ready in the trigger nook and shone the torch light down at Eve’s backside. “Now just… get in there and get what poison out you can. Hopefully Valentine’ll be here in a moment with the bags and we can get a shot of anti-venom into her.”

“Just so long as it’s not Piper and her ‘effing notepad.” MacCready murmured, taking off his hat and placing it aside. He dithered for a moment, handkerchief at the ready and cocking his head from side to side as though trying to figure out the best way to approach Eve’s ass. He got the toe of my boot to his own butt for his lack of effort. “Ouch! I’m just tryin’ to… okay. Um, look Evie?”

“Yeah?” She murmured groggily, managing to lift her head up only so slightly from the mattress this time. I doubted she was going to remember much of this later experience anyhow, given how the poison was clearly starting to take effect and she was already a little bit drunk to begin with. But MacCready still acted as though she were fully aware and conscious of everything going on.

“Just know, I um… I still… respect you.” He said, pinching the handkerchief around the injury and kneeling beside the mattress. “And we’ll always remain friends in spite of this. Platonic friends, yeah?”

“Oh, for fucks sake, it’s not like you’re sucking poison out of _my_ ass!” I all but yelled, ever the more tempted to point the gun at the back of his head and pull the trigger. “Ya didn’t think it was so bad when you were looking at it before! God, of all the stupid shit to be fucking around with-!!”

“Okay, okay – I’ll get on with it!” MacCready snapped, still taking long enough to have a little whinge to himself as he lowered his mouth towards Eve’s ass cheek. “Aww geez…”

I tried to keep the beam of the torch as steady as possible; though it was difficult when I was trembling with near envious anger. It wasn’t half obvious that Eve gained no enjoyment from what was going on; she was near unconscious and her eyes were batting with that tell-tale sign of sleepiness most people get when they’re knackered. And MacCready was obviously embarrassed as shit to be doing what he was doing but I had very limited sympathy for him. If he hadn’t accepted Nick’s offer and sauntered over to interrupt Eve and myself, then he wouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place. It would have been me likely giving Eve a bite on the backside and not for the purpose of sucking out poison. It made my heart hurt a little, to think that she had refused me at this moment as well. The reason she gave was all well and good but I felt fine and it would have caused a lot less drama than coercing MacCready into it.

Especially when not half a minute into the ‘procedure’, Nick, Piper, Deacon, Cait and Codsworth shot in through the open doorway and decided to completely misconstrue the situation. MacCready nearly windmilled himself backwards out through the bordered-up window as Cait launched herself at him and started slinging punches in the general direction of his chest. Dogmeat, regardless of being aware of the situation, decided to try and take off my leg again. Codsworth nearly shorted out from witnessing both the condition of his mistress and the room in which she had found herself to be situated in. (“Just look at the state of this linoleum, I ASK you!!) Deacon naturally started laughing and ended up tripping over the piles of bones I had been hurling out into the hallway and pitching a Deacon shaped hole through the adjacent wall. Piper’s notebook came out and she appropriated my torch as a means of scribbling down as much of the scandalous few seconds of the situation that she had been made privy to before I managed to snatch the fucking thing away and try to wedge it between Dogmeat’s teeth and my leg.

Once explanations had been made and everyone had calmed down a jot; Nick kindly administered both a dose of anti-venom to Eve, some Med-X and then a Stimpak to assist with the healing of the wounds. He applied a plaster to each puncture location and MacCready, Deacon and I were evicted so that Eve could be washed down and re-dressed. I took the opportunity to go and have a leak; since I had been busting for some time. MacCready, a tin of purified water and his not-often used enough toothbrush disappeared into the darkness so that he could ‘purify’ his mouth. A nasty part of me wanted to stalk him through the darkness and give him a good battering about the ears for acting such an idiot with Eve earlier but I left it alone. I had enough to contend with, given that Deacon wanted a point by point account of every silly thing that had occurred that evening. He seemed to find it especially amusing that I hadn’t gotten to suck on the wound on Eve’s ass and MacCready had all been forced into it. He himself was required to take off after this; having translated my expression as one that suggested sticking around wasn’t in his best interests.

I brushed my own teeth and washed my mouth out with some purified water; making certain that whatever trace of poison lingered was spat onto the ground. I was feeling a little nauseous, so I knew I hadn’t been entirely successful in my efforts but I knew I would have been feeling a damn sight better than Eve right at that moment. MacCready came wandering back eventually, making well and certain to give me a wide berth. It was pointless to be cross with him, I know but right at that moment, I wasn’t feeling particularly diplomatic. If he had been the type to have teased me over the issue, like some of the Neighborhood Watch boys would have done, he would have gotten a smack around the chops for his efforts. But MacCready wasn’t like that. He’d taken no pride in what he’d done and was acting more as though he’d been required to suck the poison from a wound on his mother’s ass. Needless to say, it was a very quiet ten minutes waiting for some update on Eve’s condition; with not a one of us speaking to one another. (Though Deacon was of course busting to say something but managed to restrain himself, surprisingly).

The others emerged eventually and concluded that Eve was fine and had gone off to sleep shortly after they’d redressed her. They’d collectively decided that we would bunk down in this building for the night; given Eve’s delicate condition and how counterproductive it would be to move her back to the other camp. Codsworth was carrying her bloodied clothes; intending to scrub them down and loom them somewhere to dry. I offered to take responsibility but there was no way in hell that the robot butler was going to entrust anyone but himself to such a delicate task. While he tarried off to set her garments to rights, the rest of us set out our sleeping gear and worked out a timetable for watching over Eve during the night. I would take the two to four shift; which gave me time to bunk down in one of the adjacent rooms for whatever kip I could manage in the time remaining. I only managed a few short minutes here and there; mainly absorbed in my thoughts of Eve and the near miss we’d had that evening. Not to mention the pain and the fear she must have felt; she was terrified of bugs and from what she’d told me, they’d NEVER been that big in her own time, nor capable of dealing so much damage. I visualized various plans of revenge for MacCready; who hadn’t at all seemed to appreciate the envious position he’d been placed in. I mean, I know he wasn’t attracted to Eve and that the whole affair had embarrassed him but still. There were worse asses to have sucked the poison from, for fucks sake. You’d think he’d been held at gunpoint and told to suction his lips to the behind of a Super Mutant.

When it was time for my shift, I was still wide awake and more than a little on edge. I crunched a couple of Mentats down to keep myself on point and once I was safely inside of Eve’s temporary room, I sucked back a puff of Jet to make sure I was pinging during my shift. Eve was still fast asleep; snoring like an industrial grinder with her bottom lip hanging so far down that her mouth became one great big awning cavern. She had been swaddled up to the back of her neck with a couple of blankets; tucked in so tightly I can only imagine Codsworth was responsible. Dogmeat was absent for once; likely sleeping in with one of the others, now that he knew his figurative ‘mother’ was taken care of. My jacket and waist coat were hanging nearby and I slipped them back on as some respite against the bitter nights air.

I took my position against the wall, gun leaning up between my legs with the barrel resting against my shoulder. The room was still dark but I managed to negotiate my cigarettes out of my jacket and light one up, taking deep drags whilst flicking the ash into a makeshift tray made from the long-discarded dinner plate. Eve’s bag still remained perched in the corner; firmly zipped and knotted in such a way I suspected Codsworth had had a ‘pincer’ involved at some juncture. I’d just made it through perhaps a quarter of my cigarette, when on the bed Eve murmured and twisted sideways beneath her myriad blankets; no doubt still sensing some discomfort from her healing wounds. She slid up onto her elbow, brushed hair back from her forehead and glanced about before blearily focusing in my direction.

“John?” She asked. “Is that you?”

I exhaled from the cigarette, feeling slightly guilty in the event that the smell might have roused her. “Yep. You feeling okay now, Killer?”

Eve groaned, reaching back under the blankets and giving her backside a quick rub.

“God my ass is killing me. And not in that fun spanky way either.” She huffed irritably before reaching up to rub at her forehead again. “Are we good if I switch my Pip boy light on and check the time?”

I shrugged. “Haven’t seen anything around for some time. One of the others noticed some mongrel dogs taking a stroll by an hour or so ago but they haven’t been back since.”

“Cheers.” Eve sighed, reaching over and fumbling at the bedside table before her hand landed on her Pip-Boy. She eased herself onto her side as much as she was able; groaning the whole while as she switched the device on. I saw her big eyes flash open wider in the green light from the screen.

“Wait-what? It’s 2:15am! I’ve been asleep for-” She quickly counted off on her fingers. “Five hours now!”

I chuckled lightly at her obvious feelings of guilt on the matter. “Well I would say that you probably needed it then. You’ve been kind of burnin’ the candle at both ends lately, Munch. Shit like that’s gonna catch up with you sooner or later.” I gestured towards her lightly with the cigarette before bringing it back to my lips for another puff. “You gotta take a breather at some point.”

“You haven’t been awake this whole time, have you?” She exclaimed, flashing a scandalized expression in my direction. I laughed as I stubbed out the last of my cigarette.

“Nah. Been sharin’ shifts with some of the others.” I leaned my head against the wall, reaching up to push the foremost peak of my hat out of the road so that it couldn’t obscure my vision. “Come on, Munch. We weren’t gonna let nothin’ bother ya while you’re down for your first nap in like… forever. Ya hardly ever sleep a full night, kiddo…”

Eve waved her hand at me; a mixture of dismission and obvious aggravation.

“Well that’s not fair on all of you guys, is it?! Jesus, you need to sleep as well!” And to my astonishment, she pulled back the covers and actually started to climb up off of the mattress. “You’d best get over here and have a lie down; we’ll swap places for a while.”

I was on my feet only fast enough because the Jet gave me enough bump to get myself moving in time. I shot to her side and gently pressed down on her upper chest, pushing her back down against the pillow that was now resting beneath her. I took the blanket out of her tight fist, wrested it from what little strength she possessed and pulled it back up towards her scarred chin.

“Oi, just calm down, would ya?” I said, perching briefly on the side of the bed and giving the side of her head a gentle, hopefully calming caress. “We’ve, all of us, gotten a decent night’s rest. ‘Sides, I only perched my ass down a good fifteen minutes ago and I bumped up right beforehand. I’m good to glide for a while. Just relax and recover, there ain’t no one else you need ta be worrying about tonight but yourself.”

I felt the muscles in Eve’s body relax back against the mattress; all the fight leaching out of her in light of my reassurance. She gave the smallest smile as she passed the Pip-Boy over into my hand and allowed me to switch the light off and set it back atop the bedside table.

“Do you ever worry that maybe you rely on Jet too much to keep you going, John Hancock?” Her scolding voice sounded out from the darkness. “You might be pushing your body to the point of over exhaustion and not even realize it until you crash one day and I’ve got to give you mouth to mouth.”

I chuckled lightly as I teased my fingers through the sweaty bangs of her hair. “If that’s your incentive to try and make me give up, I’m afraid you’re using the wrong sort of carrot.” I gave her a smile, that I’m sure she couldn’t have seen in the dark but one that I couldn’t deny myself all the same. “I balance out my usage with Addictol so it never gets too on top of me. And Jet I use much more sparingly than the other Chems. Except for Psycho of course, that stuff is mad crazy.”

Eve laughed lightly, her hand stroking down the back of my arm. “You _are_ a bad boy.”

I gave a light chuckle. “Ho, you think I’m bad now, you shoulda seen me ten years ago. Thought I was shit on a stick back then. You think you’re invincible when you’re that young, don’t ya?”

“How old were you at the time?”

I lifted my eyes towards the ceiling; genuinely having to nut this one out in my mind. You kind of stop counting birthdays when you’re a Ghoul, it’s true. “Thirty…seven? I think? Kind of old enough to know better but also at my physical peak and everythin’ I took just made things wild. Until that Radiation drug that is.” I added, chuckling self-mockingly.

Eve’s fingernail tapped lightly against my wrist; as though she were idly working out something on a calculator. “So, you’re… forty-seven now?”

I glanced up at the ceiling again; though I’m certain the answer wasn’t about to come beaming out through the long since broken light bulb. “Am I…? Hmm… no forty-six, pretty sure. ‘Til my next birthday, that is.” I grinned down through the darkness at her. “You kinda lose track of these things when you’re a Ghoul, I guess. Your skin is affected by the radiation but the rest of ya, your muscles, your internal organs, your general physicality remains the same as the time your cells succumbed to Ghoulification.” I shrugged. “So I’ve been told, anyway. It was about nine years ago that the process stopped completely for me… I don’t feel like my condition is worsening. Everything’s where it should be. Apart from my nose that is.” I tapped the cavity where my nose used to be. “Kinda a shame; it wasn’t a bad nose. Considering it was broken a few times as well.”

“What colour were your eyes?” Eve asked, sounding genuinely interested. And wider awake than she ought to have been, considering that she was supposed to be resting up from her injuries at all. I knew I should be encouraging her back towards sleep, but there was an even larger part of me that was seduced in by her desire to learn more about me. Hey, it’s not like anyone who had met me as a Ghoul particularly cared for how I looked in the past. And those guys who knew me both as a Smooth Skin and a Ghoul, didn’t often reference my appearance, unless they were teasing me about how much it had gone to shit.

“Blue.” I said, smiling as I held up the end of my sash. She couldn’t see it very well in the dark of course, but I knew she would get the reference. “Dark blue, like the blue in the flag. And I had blond hair… dark blond going kinda mousey, not that nice kinda whitish blonde you got going on.”

She chuckled softly as I gave her messy head of hair another good ruffling. “Yeah, because it’s such a natural colour.”

I clucked her chin. “Hey, I went through my own phase of dying my hair all sorts of different colours. Always went back to blond though, just kinda suited me the most.” I bit my lip, drifting my thoughts back a bit to the brattish little lout I had been all those years ago. “When I was in my teens I was pretty rebellious. Calmed down into my mid to late twenties. I was just go-go-go all the time. Always doing stuff. Partying, drinking, sneaking over to Goodneighbor for Chems and bringing them back for the parties…”

Eve laughed. “I bet you didn’t leave a single woman’s heart unbroken.”

I chortled softly to myself; not exactly ashamed but far from proud that there was much truth to this statement. “Heh, sounds like you got the bead on me already, Munch. Had it pretty good before the turn. Everyone used to say I was easy on the eyes – and unfortunately, I was pretty aware of it too. Folks used to call me ‘Beau’ because I apparently had such a ‘pretty face’.” I gestured towards my now wasted and entirely unhandsome face with both hands, which only roused an annoyed sounding grunt from Eve. She never liked it when people talked down about themselves; even in jest. “Used to use my charm and my looks to get my way a lot of the time. Mum was always fretting after me.” I laughed sadly. “Poor woman didn’t have much sleep in her life, what with the stress I gave her.”

“You raised by your Mum?” Eve asked, crooking herself up on her elbow.

“Oh sure. Before everything went tits up, I had the quintessential childhood.” I numbered off on my fingers. “Mum, Dad, big brother – shack down by the waters’ edge…”

“Where did you grow up?”

I scoffed as I eased myself back up off of the bed and crossed over to where I’d been leaning against the wall before. I’d left my weapon unattended for far too long, having gotten myself caught up in Eve’s curiosity.

“Gee, you’re just hankering to get to know more about me, huh?” I said, slinking down against the wall and pressing the shotgun barrel up along my shoulder again. I fancied a nip of Chark but knew it was only likely to lull me back to sleep. I took out another cigarette instead. “Since when did I become so fascinating?”

“Are you kidding?” Eve said and I caught a glimpse of her surprised expression in the light from my match as I lit my fag up. “You’re like one of the most fascinating people I know! Massive risk taker, charismatic, mysterious past-”

I flashed a wink at her in the dying light of the match. “Don’t forget sexy.”

I heard her chuckle out from the darkness as it reclaimed the room. “Oh, I think that’s a given, don’t you?”

I laughed. “Of course.” I gestured to her. “Before we go on chatting, is there anything ya want me to grab ya now you’re up and alert?”

I saw Eve give a little squiggle from underneath the blanket. “Actually… it’s a bit embarrassing – but I’m pretty sure I’ve bled through the… fresh pair of panties the guys put on me after they dressed my wound.”

“Ah.” I said, taking another few puffs from the cigarette before butting it out and once more hurling my aching body to my feet. “I can grab you a fresh pair if you like but I might just redress that injury for you; given you’ve likely bled through the first plaster the guys popped on you.”

Eve gave a fake exaggerated sigh. “Oh, you just can’t help yourself, can you? Any excuse to get another look at my ass.”

“How do you know I didn’t take a look while you were sleeping?” I said, switching on the Pip-Boy light and holding it under my chin so that my leering expression was even more exaggerated. Eve’s mouth dropped open to form an equally embellished look of shock. “Take it easy, sister. My interest is for the most part purely professional. I’ll take a look at that sting on your shoulder, too.”

Eve sighed as she peeled back the blanket; revealing that the others had dressed her in her long johns. It was an adorable little outfit; just small enough to show her curves nicely but also kind of sweet and endearing. And it ironically worked well for the purposes required.

I got her to peel one shoulder back, so that I could check the wound there first. The plaster here was only a little stained but I still peeled it off and gave the wound a quick clean before applying a fresh plaster. Following this, I got her to lie on her stomach, and I directed the Pip-Boy light down so that I could take stock of the injury to her rear. Sure enough, the flap of her long johns were stained red from where the blood had welled through and I gently unhooked it and peeled it down, so I could take a closer look. The white panties she had underneath were equally as soaked and must have been terribly uncomfortable. I peeled the left side back to reveal a plaster, swollen with blood like a great satisfied leech. I peeled it away, revealing that the wound was healing up but for whatever reason, didn’t appear to be clotting as quickly as the first. Perhaps more poison had remained in her system, given that MacCready had been interrupted in the midst of removing it.

“Looking good.” I said, taking a wet wipe out from the med kit. “I’ll just give it a quick clean and put another plaster on.”

Eve sighed from the crook of her crossed arms. “I guess it’s a good thing that a Stimpak knits the wound enough to eliminate the need for stitches, right?”

“Unless it’s a really large wound, where the skin and muscle is too far separated to come together on its own. Stitches can help then but your injury is fine. By morning, it’ll be a little sore and raw but you should be able to walk on it without too much difficulty.” I wiped the wound off and then reapplied another plaster. “Now, if you would be so kind as to whip off those panties.”

I could see Eve’s eyes rolling as she yanked the blankets back up over her body. “And there’s that charm that must have made you so popular with all the ladies growing up.”

I affected a mock, sleazy tone. “Hey, I never had to ask for a lady to take her panties off around me.”

“Oh yes, I bet they just _fell_ off of them whenever you wooed them with that oily ‘butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth’ façade you got going on.” Eve said sarcastically, wriggling about beneath her assortment of blankets like an impatient caterpillar, ready to complete its metamorphosis into a butterfly. Finally, she must have been able to extract most of herself from the long johns and with a vehement snort, tossed the bloodied ball of her panties through the air towards me. “There, ya big creeper.”

I caught the panties as they sailed towards me, trotting over towards the side of the room to where I had seen a small bin. I thought I might let them soak in some water and try and knead out a bit of the blood during my shift.

“Who knows Munch, play your cards right and one day I might show you what does melt in my mouth.” I said, holding the Pip-Boy up to my face so that she could see me line both my middle and index fingers up to either side of my mouth and slide my tongue between them. Eve’s mouth dropped open a little and then she held her own hand to the side of her face in an obvious sign of embarrassment.

“Oh my God, could you _please_ not make me blush right now? My body’s trying to create more blood to replace what I lost and you’re sending it all into my face and making me dizzy!” She gestured aggressively over towards her bag. “Just… throw me a pair of fresh underpants from my bag please and stop being dirty.”

I snickered as I dropped the bloodied underpants into the bucket and knelt down to unzip her bag. “Why, when I’m so very good at it?” I said, winking again as I reached inside, using the light from the Pip-Boy to navigate my way towards what I hoped was a fresh pair of underpants. I immediately wondered why it was these ones that weren’t her favourite; given that they were black, skimpy and lined with a delicate pattern of lace. They’d certainly be my favourites, _that’s_ for certain.

“Good grief, get a load of these things.” I exclaimed, yanking them out and holding the tiny article aloft with one finger. “Who were you planning on wearing these for?”

I couldn’t see Eve’s face in the darkness but I could only imagine how red it was now going.

“Just toss them here, would you?”

“Where did you even find them?” I queried, ignoring her request entirely and using the time instead to further examine the minute little delicates. “I didn’t think anyone sold anything like this anymore!” I held them up and stretched them out to their not so dramatic limits. “And you think _I’m_ the one who’s dirty, Munch, goddamn.”

Eve was desperately trying not to laugh from the sounds of things and was coordinating this with trying to balance out her obvious mortification.

“Hancock, come on!”

“Hey, do you reckon they’d look good on me?” I made a big show of holding the underpants in front of my trousers and swinging my hips from side to side. “Man, that’d get all the fella’s in Goodneighbour talkin’…”

“Yeah, and then some. I’m sure it’d give Ryan hope though.” She chuckled as a I dropped the underpants as though they were suddenly blistering hot. “Just give them here, would ya?”

“Yeah sure. I’d tell ya not to get your panties in a knot but you ain’t wearing them yet.” I scooped up the knickers, screwed them into a tiny ball and tossed them lightly in her direction. I couldn’t see whether she’d caught them or not but I gathered from the scrabbling sounds and rustling noises that she had since tugged them in under the blankets. “Good thing you weren’t wearing those when you got stung… would have been a tragic waste.”

Eve made a few grunting sounds as she attempted to negotiate the flimsy underpants onto herself. “Well they’re not actually that hard to find. Meaghan sold me these ones.”

I chuckled. “Saucy bitch. Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” I held up the Pip-Boy. “You need some light over there, Munch?”

“No, I bloody well don’t!” Eve said so prudishly that it automatically made me laugh. “I think you’ve seen quite enough of my near naked body for one day, John Hancock. You just – stay over there until I’m done. No peeking.”

“No promises.” I said, smiling as I extricated a bottle of purified water from Eve’s bag and got to work trying to scrub the blood out of her underpants. I added a bit of soap and used my knuckles to rub the material back and forth against itself like I had seen Eve doing in the past. In the background, I could sense all sorts of movement going on beneath the blankets and Eve grunting and growling like she was fighting to extricate herself from a bag of Mole rats. Finally, she emitted a satisfied sounding sigh and something landed on the floor near my feet. I used my boot to pick it up and hold it aloft. It was her bra.

“Huzzah, freedom!” She exclaimed, not seeming to care that at that very moment her undergarment was loomed on the toe of my shoe. “Now, you can put some light around the room if you like.”

“Feel better?” I joked, as I situated the Pip-Boy so that the light could now be shared between the two of us. Eve was perched up against the pillows, buttoned to the chin once more and sighing as she rubbed her hands happily across her chest. I knew that for her the action was one of relaxation but for me it was enough to force my attentions back towards the frothy bucket between my legs. I scooped the bra off of my boot and quickly tossed it back towards her bag.

“Feeling better now?”

Eve sighed as she rubbed her hands up under each arm. “Hell yes… I can’t believe they let me go to sleep with my bra on. My tits are so sore now.” She shuffled back around to face me, lying on her front so as to not aggravate the wound on her backside. She rested her chin on her hands and gave me a meaningful look. “Only one thing missing…”

I returned what I hoped was a Nick like, scolding expression. “Are you quite certain it’s a smart idea to be slurping after all those injections and pain killers, young lady?”

Her brows furrowed down as though I had disappointed her. “Oh, don’t you go starting with that shit now, John. Jesus, I get it enough from everyone else.” She made a flippant sound and put on an accent like some snooty, upper class twat from Diamond City. “And here I was thinking you were one of the ‘cool’ kids.”

“Hey, just trying to pretend like I took a shot at doing the right thing.” I said, abandoning the bucket and trudging over to Eve’s bag again, wiping my wet hands on my jacket as I went. I reached inside again, ruffling about until I felt the cool, smooth surface of a couple of bottles. The first one I tugged out was a bottle of whiskey and the second was naturally a bottle of wine. “Happy… early morning hour?”

“Happy Early Morning Hour.” Eve said, holding out her hand and waiting as I poured some wine into her little aluminium cup and handed it to her. I prepared my own drink; Nuka cola mixed with only the slightest nip of Whiskey. I didn’t wanna go and get wasted when I was supposed to be watching over the kid.

I knelt and tapped the rim of my cup to hers. “Here’s to you getting stung in the ass.”

Eve scoffed sarcastically. “Gee thanks, because _that’s_ something worth toasting to.”

“Well you’re not dead. And that’s definitely worth toasting to.” I stood up and headed back to the bucket, performing a little mock dance step as I added in a sing-song voice. “Plus, I got to see your _aaaaa-sssss.”_

“Bully for you. Hope you enjoyed it because it’s not going to happen again.” Eve grunted, as she took a sip from her drink. This took a bit of the spring out of my step but I reminded myself that this was only likely to raise the bar of the challenge.

“What, you getting stung in the ass or me getting to see it again because I wouldn’t go making any bets if you’re only going to have to eat your hat later.” I said, winking as I plonked myself down beside the bucket. One of Eve’s fingers left the side of the cup to point warningly in my directly.

“You keep on teasing me and you’ll be getting yourself _shot_ in the ass, Hancock. Then I’ll make you eat _your_ hat.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it.” I said, chuckling and then pausing in my efforts with the underpants. I flashed a smile in her direction, thinking it was high time for some honesty. “Does seem like you know how to hold your own. Gotta admit, I had my doubts when we first hit the road.”

Eve looked a little hurt by this. “Oh yeah? What kind of ‘doubts’?”

“You kiddin’ me?” I said, smirking at her naivety. “Looked like you’d fallen out of the Vault that day. I thought I’d see you pickin’ your teeth out of the gutter by sunup.” I quirked my brow at her. “I gotta be missin’ something here, right?”

“What can I say?” Eve said, offering up now a cocky little shrug. “Some people juuuust got it.”

I wasn’t convinced. “Well that might be true but I wouldn’t have expected it from someone whose last memories were of vacuuming the carpet and dusting the credenza in 2077.” I pointed a soapy finger at her. “But I’ve seen you scrap like you were raised by Yaoi Gau and I’ve watched you kill animals and dress ‘em down without batting an eye. There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

Eve smiled a little. “It’s nothing as secretive as you seem to think, Hancock. Remember I told you about how my father’s side of the family were Yanktonai? I learned a lot of this stuff from him. Not to mention he’s the one who got me enrolled in martial arts and all.” She gave a little laugh. “God, it used to worry the shit out of my Mom! Man, you should have seen her. She was a fucking bombshell. Men’s jaws used to hit the floor when she walked down the street. Dad was… okay too but she was in a whole other league of her own. Her skin was so beautiful it looked like it was glowing all the time. Dad used to always have this big dopey smile on his face when he was with her; like he couldn’t believe his luck.” Her laughter petered off and I could see her eyes shining in the dark. Fighting back tears.

“You miss ‘em, huh?” I asked, which seemed a stupid thing to ask but I wasn’t sure what else to say. Poor girl had arrived in our time with only her Butler Bot and the Vault suit they’d strapped to her back. There’d hardly be a damn thing that she missed.

“Of course.” She said, sniffing lightly and then quickly forcing a smile back onto her face. “Mom was already dead before the war but Dad…” She shook her head. “He would’ve been back at the compound, working with the animals or something when the bombs hit. I reckon it would have been quick. And he would have been where he wanted to be. Not trapped in some Fallout shelter.” She chuckled. “Reckon he woulda tamed the Commonwealth pretty quick though if he’d been the one to make it through.”

“So, he’s the one who taught you all your little tricks of the trade.” I established, returning my attention to the pair of underpants in the bucket. I had since taken a scrub brush from out of Eve’s bag and was making strains with this to try and work out most of the blood.

“Most of them. Dad was very big on being self-sufficient. And with the war getting worse all the time, he put a lot of pressure on himself to make sure that Mom and I would be okay if anything happened to him and he was conscripted or what not.” I heard Eve pause as she sipped from her glass. “Mom was very much a girls-girl, she knew how to take care of things around the house but she wasn’t very good at cooking and she struggled with a lot of things. Dad taught me how to hunt, how to dress an animal down, butcher it and prepare the meat.” She seemed to mull on this for a while, drifting back to some far distance in her mind. “There was a time there during the early years of the war when fresh meat was almost impossible to get. We were on food stamps at the time and had a weekly allotment. We did a lot better because Dad and I knew how to hunt. We helped supply the families around us too, so our neighbourhood did quite well. Compared to other places where they struggled a great deal more.”

I smirked. “Your old man sounds like my kind of guy.”

Eve burst out with laughter. “Oh my God, he would have tried to run rings around you, I bet! When it came to other fella’s, he always liked to try and find their weak spot. He was a bastard to all the guys I brought home. Scared off two, which was probably a good thing since there’s no point wasting your time with anyone weak.” She sighed in reminiscence bringing her cup to just beneath her chin, her eyes drifting towards the floor but obviously focused internally on a memory long since passed. “He loved Nate though. Nate wasn’t squeamish about going out to the back shed with him to help gut a rabbit.”

The image of this made me laugh as well. “Your pop actually made your dates gut an animal to test their metal? Man, he’s already my hero and I never even met the guy.”

She waved a hand at me placatingly. “Oh, you would have been fine, you know how to roll with the punches and you give as good as you get. He just couldn’t stand soft bastards.” She sipped from her wine, one finger trailing over the side of the mattress to trace the centre seam. “He started taking me off to martial arts lessons when I was about five years old, so that I could learn how to defend myself. He lived in absolute fear of me being attacked or raped or kidnapped… I didn’t know this until much later but apparently this happened to the daughter of one of his very good friends in the compound. She was fifteen years old at the time. Dad wasn’t prepared to raise me to be helpless, is what he said.” She stretched out both arms in a classic gesture of showing off. “I was still training until I found out I was pregnant with Shaun. Never progressed to master status but I got… modestly good enough. I think so, at least.”

“I’d say so.” I said, giving her a smile through the dim green light the Pip-Boy was throwing off. “Given what I’ve seen you do to some of these suckers out here.”

“Got my Daddy to thank for all that. Wouldn’t have lasted a day out here if he hadn’t been so determined to make me strong.” She shrugged and took another slurp from her wine. “Anyhow, there you have it. The story of how little Evelyn Hallows learnt to kick some butt around the wasteland.” She pointed a finger at me. “Just don’t bother asking me to whittle a bird call or do anything ridiculous like a rain dance, because I wouldn’t know where to start with that shit. And it’s offensive as all fuck.”

“You should be very grateful to your Pop for steering you in the right direction.” I stated, holding up the panties and huffing to see that the stain still remained; clinging hard and fast to the rear. I dropped them into the water again and gave them another good scrub with the brush. “All that stuff he’s taught you, it’s been pretty instrumental in keeping you alive so far.”

“Oh, I hear ya. I know I wouldn’t have gotten very far at all if it hadn’t been for him. Survival instinct is one thing but you need a little bit more of the know how if you’re going to get anywhere.” She sighed thoughtfully. “I’m very lucky… so many women out here… so many people don’t have what I do. I can read, I can feed myself and I can fight my own fights…” She sipped from her drink and then paused to brush her bangs back from her forehead. “I just wanna try and… do what I can, where I can and maybe I dunno… maybe I’ll end up making someone’s life a little easier. Who knows right?”

I looked over at her; feeling more enamoured by this woman each moment I spent in her company. “See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. I don’t think you have any idea just what a difference you’ve actually made, even when you’ve got so much shit of your own to worry about.”

She shrugged. “Well, what am I supposed to do? Tell people to just fuck off because I’ve got my own problems?” She gestured with the cup. “We’ve all got problems. The only way we’re all going to learn to fix them is if we help each other sort them out. And then maybe, who knows? That person might be able to help me out sometime down the track. It all goes hand in hand. You can’t be selfish.”

I smiled as I looked back down at the bucket, seeing something very familiar in what Eve was saying. And no doubt feeling as well.

“You really do believe that, huh?”

“I really do. I came from the time of cheesy after school specials, buddy. I was raised on a diet of unrealistic expectations, sanctimonious fluff and campfire ‘kumbaya’s.’” She chuckled at her joke but I didn’t join in, just continuing to stare down into the bucket as I scrubbed her underthing’s; my thoughts and feelings flying out in all directions. No doubt a screwy combination of the Jet and the Mentats laying siege to my brain but in no small part due to what Eve was saying. Clearly, I looked very distracted because Eve sat up a little; looking worried.

“Hey, is everything okay? You look like you’ve got something on your mind…” She cocked her head. “I didn’t say anything to piss you off or something, did I?”

“Oh, no, no nothing like that.” I said, mulling for a moment as I tapped the brush against the side of the bucket. “Just got some stuff rattling around in my skull, but it’s nothing you need to worry about. Get me talkin about my thoughts and I’ll never stop yapping.”

She frowned at me. “Don’t be like that, it’s good to talk when things are getting to ya. Now, I know that’s a very female concept and you big tough men don’t like to ramble on about your feelings and what not but we’re alone out here. I promise that if you want to unload, I won’t say anything to anyone else.” She made a zipper motion across her lips. “And hey, I was a lawyer, so I know how to be discreet. And how to lie if that helps.”

This roused a laugh from me and Eve finally relaxed, sipping from her wine and waving her hand towards me.

“So, go on. Tell me what’s got that big sexy ghoul brain of yours all worked up.”

I sighed, resting my back against the wall. “I was just thinking… how rare it is these days to find someone who’s not willing to take things the way they’re handed to them. You see it all the time out here. Too many good folks not willing to get their hands dirty and too many assholes taking advantage of it.” As a kind of unintentional metaphor, I foisted Eve’s underpants out from the bucket and examined them. Finding them still stained, I wrung them out and then dropped them back in; subjecting them to another vicious scrubbing. “I mean, look at what happened to Diamond city. Before McDonough took over, it was a half decent place to live. A little stricter than I usually go for but not terrible. I thought… he and I had a pretty happy childhood.” I could feel my eyes narrowing, as the bitter residue from this time came curdling up inside of me like a bad bout of reflex. I scrubbed at the underpants harder. “But then he decides he’s going to try and get elected with his ‘Anti-Ghoul’ crusade – “Mankind for McDonough”. I twisted my lips; as disgusted by the slogan now as I was at the time it was being splayed all over Diamond City, Terrifying the absolute shit out of the then Ghoul population. They’d lived in such terrible fear during that time… “Before ya know it, you got families with kids lining up to drag folks they called ‘neighbour’ out of their homes and throw ‘em to the ruins.”

Eve sat up higher in bed, her mouth dropping open. She looked absolutely appalled and I supposed that she hadn’t actually heard the full, uncensored events of what had happened in Diamond city until now. A fact that surprised me a little but perhaps the others hadn’t clued her; given that she was mainly focused on hunting down her son. Perhaps they hadn’t wanted to upset her with all the other dramas unfolding about the Commonwealth. Perhaps it was unkind of me to have made her aware of it; I’m not sure. I’ve never underestimated this woman’s capacity for strength and perseverance. I can only hope that shows respect and not irreverence.

She went to say something and then paused, glanced off to the side and waved her hand about.

“Wait… wait, hold on just a minute, back up here.” Her brow quirked from over her wine cup. “Putting on hold everything else you just told me, what was that about you and McDonough? Did you guys know each other as kids or something?”

I sighed, feeling more than forlorn about the reality of the matter. Of things I had no control of and was unable to change.

“Oh yeah. Guy’s my brother. Grew up together in that little shack on the waterfront I told ya about.”

Eve’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open even further. “Holy shit… and you didn’t think this was worth mentioning before _now?”_

I shrugged. “It’s not something I go around bragging about exactly, Eve. Would you really want people knowing you had a brother like that?”

She looked to the floor, thoughtfully. “Well… no, not really darl. I can see your point.” She stewed on this for a moment. “Sooo… was he always-”

“A big pompous blowhard?” I asked, chuckling bitterly. “Nah. Not in the beginning. Guy was the standard big brother – entitled, punchy, liked to shove rotten tato’s down my shirt and slap my back.” I tilted my head to the side, still all these years later perplexed by the change in my brothers’ character. “But… I never thought he’d be capable of something like what they did to those Ghouls.”

Eve was quiet for a while, seeming to take on what I had said. When next she spoke, her voice was thick and heavy with emotion.

“How could he… how could any of them do something like that?”

The morality of that city’s behaviour had always been a massive, unanswerable question to me and one I had continued to mull over for many years without a satisfactory conclusion. The actions those… people had taken were far removed from anything that I was able to recognize. It was as fathomless as the idea of… molesting a child, or something equally dreadful. Things I couldn’t even begin to imagine I would ever, or could ever be capable of. Let alone contemplate. But I tried to explain it to Eve the best way I knew how. The way they had seemed to justify it to themselves.

“There’d always been a pretty big gulf between the folks living in the stands and the folks down on the field. McDonough ran on it because he thought enough of those Upper Stands assholes would vote for him. Guess he was right.” I found myself staring out over the top of the bucket and into the dimly lit middle distance, my hands never ceasing their motions in scrubbing that bloodied material. “I remember… storming into his office above the stands after the inauguration speech. He was just… standing there, staring out the window, watching as the city turned on the Ghouls.” I felt my voice drop and my timbre change. References to Diamond City always seemed to do this to me; revert my accent and tone back to that which I had learned whilst living there. Something I tried very hard over the years to conceal. “He didn’t even look at me, just said: “I did it, John. It’s finally mine.”” My eyes creased furiously as I angled them back down towards the bucket; scrubbing harder and harder. Like somehow… fixing this, getting this clean… would make my soul the less bloodied for all my uselessness back then. “Should have just killed him right there, but I don’t think it would have changed anything. Instead I pleaded with him, _begged_ him to call it off. He said he couldn’t. He had nothing against the Ghouls. He was just carrying out the will of the people. And he couldn’t betray the voters.” My voice betrayed how bitterly angry I was. “And then he smiled. That hideous fucking mile long smile. He never smiled like that when we were kids. I didn’t even recognize him.”

Eve leaned further over the side of the bed, wincing a little as her wounded shoulder took some of the pressure from her body. “Wait… what do you mean you didn’t recognize him…? You don’t think-”

I shrugged, staring off to the side. “I don’t know. Just didn’t seem like the guy I grew up with. When I’d first heard the rumours he’d been swapped for a synth, thinking back on that night, I thought it made a lot of sense. But now… I don’t know. I don’t think I buy it.” I turned back to her, cocking my head. “I’ve seen him since then and there’s no way they copied him that perfectly. Even got his tightass walk.”

Eve smiled at this; but it was a compromised gesture. I could tell she still felt disgusted and angry by everything else I had told her. From the downcast angle of her eyes, to the tightness of her fingers around the aluminium cup in her hand. It seemed that out of everything she had heard in her time in the Wasteland, this was the thing that upset her the most. Her lips were pressed tight together and her chin trembled. I felt an ache in my heart; an emotion that had nothing to do with arousal. A stirring of ever deepening affection.

“But at the time, I just needed to get the hell away from him.” I said, concluding at last how I had ended up living in Goodneighbor. “Him and that whole damned city.”

Eve sighed long and slow, her breath trembling and she wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand. Her expression was so… unique. Devastation, coupled with fury.

“I don’t… blame you.” She sobbed and it shocked me to see just how deeply I had upset her with my story. God, she didn’t need this along with all the shit she was going through. “He _murdered_ those poor Ghouls.”

“Him and that whole damned city.” I said, patting around inside of my pocket for the fresh handkerchief I had stowed there. I fished it out and moved back towards the mattress; perching on the side so that she could take it directly from my hand. “Here, it’s clean.”

Eve groaned in a way that made it sound as though she were annoyed with herself as she took the handkerchief. “Sorry.” She said, as she quickly dried her eyes. Some of her black eye makeup had blotted in the creases beneath and were no doubt stained all throughout the material of my handkerchief now. But these weren’t important things. “I just… I think about how I was walking around that city, thinking how nice the people seemed, how well they were doing to pull things together the way that they had.” She growled, flinching her eyes shut and bringing the heel of her hand up to slam to her forehead. “I’m so stupid… I didn’t see a single Ghoul there and I didn’t even stop to wonder _why!”_

“You’re not stupid.” I said, taking her by the wrist and pulling her hand away from her face before she hurt herself any further. “If anything, you had a good excuse. You’re from a time when there weren’t even any Ghouls. And you didn’t really know any until you arrived at Goodneighbor.” I smiled as I took the handkerchief and gently wiped beneath her eyes. “And the fact that you’re crying for them now says a whole lot more about the kind of person you are and the kind of people that they are.”

“It makes me feel sick to think that I bothered to help a single one of them!” She took the handkerchief from my hand, gripping it furiously as her white teeth bared in the green glow of the Pip-Boy. “They all deserve to have their asses kicked!” She mulled on this for a moment, before adding; “Well… except for Piper and Nat… and Nick… and Travis and Vadim and - for fucks sake, why are all those nice people living in that horrible town?!”

“They weren’t to know.” I said, supplying a defence that not even I agreed with readily myself. But one that I still felt applied to each of the individuals she had named. “None of them were involved with anything that happened back then. The reporter and her sis only moved in a couple of years back. Same with the bartender and his brother. Nick’s just doing what he can to help from a useful vantage point and Travis… guy was only a teenager when it all went down and he was just as terrified as the Ghouls. He begged me to stop McDonough too, so at least we know the kids got his head screwed on straight.”

Eve’s brow lifted slightly from over the crinkled ball of the handkerchief. “You knew Travis as well back in the day?”

A genuine smile crossed my face. “Used to change the squirts diapers when he wore them. He and his mom were our closest neighbours. Babysitting him was my first big job.” I tilted my head to the side. “Well… up until his mother stopped trusting me because she caught me huffing up by the stands one day. Which was completely unwarranted mind you… only dropped him a couple of times and that was only because I was completely stoned off my gourd.”

Eve’s mouth dropped open and she battered me with the hand holding the handkerchief.

“Oh Hancock! You know you’re probably to blame for all that poor boys neurosies.”

I laughed as I held up my arm to protect myself from her battering. I still had some sore spots and scratches from where we were wrestling earlier and they stung a little as she lit upon them.

“I was kidding, I never actually dropped him. He was a nice kid. Still is. Shame he’s living in that city of bigots.” I tilted my head thoughtfully and flashed an evil smile in Eve’s direction. “Maybe I’ll try and lure him over to the dark side one of these days… give him a whole buncha caps and get him hooked on Jet.”

“Look, I’m sorry I just took you completely off track then.” Eve said, sipping from her own drink as I crossed the room to retrieve my own. I sat back down on the side of the bed, deciding I would let the underpants soak for a bit. Besides, it was nice to be close when we were talking. “So, you were saying that you felt you had to leave Diamond city?”

I nodded and took a sip from my own beverage. “Uh-huh. I mean… I still wasn’t a Ghoul at this point, so I didn’t have to leave, but I couldn’t bring myself to stay in that cesspool after that. I’d been sneakin’ off to Goodneighbour for years to get decent Chems, so I knew the safe routes.” I gestured with the cup towards nothing. “I managed to track down a couple of the families, lead ‘em there, but most couldn’t get used to the Goodneighbour lifestyle. I brought them food for a couple of weeks…” I felt my voice hitch and my eyes slope downward, as the memory of that time came flooding back. Another time that I had been less than useless. Every week, a few less of them. One less, two less… Sometimes just empty bedrolls, sometimes blood… “But after a while, they just… disappeared.” I cleared my throat as anger took over from that of sadness. “Folks in Diamond City signed their death warrants, and all the good people were willing to just sit by and watch.” I sighed, my shoulders heaving up and then down with the weight of a thousand things I had kept at bay with the thousands of things I had shot, swallowed and snorted into my body over the years. “I felt like I was the only one who saw how screwed up things truly were, who couldn’t just pretend things were fine. Still feel that way… or I did.” I turned and smiled down at her; at her curiously perplexed face, her bid wide eyes, her entirely, substantially moral being. “Until I met you.”

Eve looked entirely gobsmacked by what I had just said and I didn’t want to make her feel too overwhelmed or uncomfortable, so I tried to dial it back a little. In spite of just how much I well and truly meant everything I had been saying. I gave her head another ruffle; the kind you might give a friend or a sibling and smiled self mockingly.

“Hey, I know I run my mouth, but having someone who sees the world for what it is and is willing to do something about it. It’s meant a lot to me.”

She laughed finally, which was a relief but it upset me to see her eyes tearing over again. Though she only looked happy in this instance, it was so difficult for me to know what to make of women’s tears.

“Oh my God you’re going to make me cry again, you bastard.” She whispered and it was my turn now to feel astonished, as she placed her wine cup down on the side of the bed and then lifted herself up to wrap her arms around my neck. Her cheek was against my neck and I could feel the wetness of her tears. I could feel her warmth culminating between the alignment of our bodies. “I’m so, so sorry you had to go through all of that. Those poor Ghouls… they must have been so frightened and devastated. How could they just throw them out to die like that, it’s _disgusting!”_

My hands were still a little wet from where I had them in the bucket, so I set my cup down and gave them a quick wipe on my jacket before gently wrapping my arms around her too. God, she felt so _good._ It reminded me of the first time we had embraced. A moment that had taken me by surprise. The moment I had decided that I wanted her no matter what it took; how big a fool it made me, how far and wide across the Commonwealth I would have to travel. I felt the soft press of her breasts through the front of her long johns, the angles of her back and the muscles shifting as she pulled herself tighter to me. I felt her kindness and her strength and her endless, never ceasing compassion.

“What you did for those Ghouls…” She whispered, her chin resting in the crook of my shoulder. Her hands rubbing my back through the jacket I wished so desperately wasn’t standing between us. “You sound like you tried so hard…”

I shrugged, not buying into it. “Not hard enough obviously, or I would have been able to save them.” Against my earnest desires, I heard my own voice crack again. Jesus, talking about this shit always made me emotional. “I could have… stayed with them, watched out for them.”

Eve eased back from me a little, her hands still resting on my shoulders, my own hands now sliding down to her sides. “People don’t need to be watched over, Hancock, they need to learn to _survive._ And if they weren’t able to do that, that’s not on you. You can't protect everyone.” She reached up and placed her hand against my cheek and my whole body felt weak for that tiny skin to skin contact. So… sweet. “So long as you did your best, that’s all you could have been expected to do. And you did a damn lot more than anyone else did.”

I sighed sadly, giving her a small smile. I wanted to reach up and cup her hand with my own but I didn’t dare push this far. I felt like I was balancing on a delicate precipice right now and the wrong move might very well destroy whatever positive things might have happened next.

“Wish I could believe that, Munch.”

Her hand clenched to my cheek tighter; demanding my attention as fiercely as her eyes did. “You’ve got to. And you deserve to. The way that I hear people talk about Goodneighbour… they haven’t got a fucking clue just what it really stands for. What you work so hard to give back to people.” She smiled as she pressed her remaining hand to my other cheek now, keeping my face firmly focused on hers. Though there would be no issue with evoking this from me in the first place, I guarantee it. “I get it now… everyone is welcome. You’re not like your brother, you won’t exclude anyone, not until they try and hurt other people. You’ve made a home for all those people that are hunted, discriminated against, afraid, persecuted… my God, you should be so proud.”

Now I was the one feeling a little overwhelmed and uncertain of what to say. And kind of embarrassed, given that I didn’t consider Goodneighbor to be some Mesopotamian Utopia, nor that I was in any way deserving of her praise. I shrugged, hoping she understood it represented not modesty so much as admission on my part.

“There’s still a hell of a long way to go. I just hope it’s a start.”

Eve smiled, as she dropped both hands from my face. I felt a little disappointed until I felt one alight on my thigh, which she gave a comforting little shake to. “It’s a good start. A _real_ good start.” She cocked her head at me, as her smile deepened, her lashes coming down to mostly veil her eyes from view now. “You’re a much deeper person than I ever realized, John Hancock. You know, I think there may be a big soft heart in that chest of yours, much as you pretend otherwise.” She rubbed my chest teasingly and I chuckled, looking off to the side and wishing once more that my clothing didn’t stand between her flesh and my own. To feel that palm against my chest… “You’re a good guy. I hope you realize that.”

“I’m not so sure.” I said, honestly. “But when I hear someone like you say it… I think I can almost believe it.” I took the chance, reaching down and taking up Eve’s hand from my thigh. I brushed my thumb over the ridge of her knuckles and she didn’t pull away. She didn’t flinch or tense up. A good sign. A very good sign. “I feel damn lucky to have you as a friend.”

A moment passed between us, where neither she nor I said anything and I wondered if I had made a terrible error in judgment. I was just about to release my hold on Eve’s hand, when I felt her own thumb rub back against my own. I looked down at her and she stared back; her expression far more cool and collected than I’m sure mine was. If anything, she looked… confident.

“And that’s what we are… _friends?”_ She whispered, a knowing smile gracing her already naturally curved lips. Her fingers slid down between my own, linking us together and I stared at her; seeing that for the second time that night, she was granting me an opening. I smiled as I squeezed her hand back, pushing my hat up a little so that it wouldn’t prod her eye out as I moved in.

“Well now that you mention it… I have been having some slightly more... _impure_ thoughts than usual…” I chuckled as I brushed over her chin with my thumb, pleased to see that she was smiling back. Waiting for me to make my move. “Maybe we’ll have a chance to, uh, act on those…”

And of course, just when I was on the very cusp of acting on said urges, the door slid open and Deacon of all people stepped inside. I snapped upright, fury blotting out every ounce of desire I’d been feeling as I saw the knowing smirk playing across his face and heard the tell-tale jangling of caps coming from one of his pockets.

“Hey, here for my shift!” He said, holding up both hands and glancing back and forth between the two of us with that big shit eater grin still marring his features. “Whoa – not interrupting anything, am I?”

I climbed up off of the bed, went to the wall and yanked my shotgun up. I chambered a round, aimed it over Deacon’s shoulder and blasted apart most of the upper part of the doorway.

“YOU’RE TWO HOURS EARLY, YOU INTERFERING PIECE OF _SHIT!!”_ I yelled, ignoring Eve’s demands that I calm down as Deacon shot off through the doorway like a Bloodbug with its ass on fire. Naturally, the gun fire woke everyone up, to say nothing of my pursuing Deacon through most of the building like a vengeful serial killer; quite convinced that I would at the very least make him shit his pants before the night was out. By the time my temper had worn down (and Deacon had evaded me for an embarrassing half hour) I returned to my post to find that it had been permanently taken over by Nick. He gave me a very annoyed look from his perch on the floor; the kind that said he was disappointed in me but that he hadn’t expected much better. But I was cross with him too and I sure as shit let him know it.

“Listen,” I said, speaking softly, for Eve had already drifted back off to sleep. “Ya can’t get in the way of it forever, ya big walking talking short-circuiting embodiment of contraception. If it’s gonna happen, it’s gonna happen. And you had just damn well better get used to it.”

Nick just gave me a very cool like. “I’ll get used to it,” He said firmly. “When you have grown up enough to be worthy of her. Running off and leaving her alone and unprotected? Simply because you were annoyed with being interrupted?” He snorted, which was a sound I actually could never imagine coming from the Synth. “That doesn’t speak of maturity to me, Hancock. She needs and deserves better than that. Show me your capable of it and I’ll shake your hand and give you my approval. But then and only then.”

It was a hell of a dressing down and one that I couldn’t say I at all disagreed with. I immediately felt ashamed, realizing that I had been in some way tested this evening and I had failed spectacularly. I had left Eve alone when she’d needed me. Anything could have happened.

Just as it had happened all those months ago. In that town of mine I was so proud of. That safe place, that good start as Eve had put it.

I had turned my back. And the woman I had grown to love and cherish more than any other person alive, had been violated in the most cruel and atrocious of circumstances.

But I was different now. I knew that. I felt it in my aching, impatient and blazing bones. I knew I was the man that Eve now deserved.

This was our town. And I would give it back to her; make it safe once again for her to live and be well and happy at my side.

Even if it meant burning the whole fucking Hotel Rexford to the ground.

**~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again my darlings! Thankyou again for checking in with me and I once more promise to bring you more of a conclusion next time. And a bit of sex, finally. Good god, it's taking too long to get to that scene. Every other author on this site gets around to it at LEAST by the third chapter, if not the first! I am very repressed apparently! 
> 
> Once more my loves, please take care of yourselves wherever you are in the world and I'm sending you all my hugs and appreciation right now. I thank you as always for your patience and I promise to deliver up the goodies very soon! I just didn't want to leave you hanging too much longer.
> 
> Until next time, with all my love  
> ~MadamMortis~ xxx ooo


	16. The Blame Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’d failed to protect her. Because I had failed to take the running of this town seriously. And in doing so, I had allowed monsters like Marowski to hunt and scavenge from the shadows. And he had dragged her into the darkness and had his violent way with her…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Fallout 4 and its characters are the property of Bethesda studios. A company that I am in no way affiliated with. I am just a happy, obsessive and dedicated fan. With access to a keyboard.
> 
> A/N: Hello my Freaky Darlings! I know I keep apologizing for the delay with these chapters but I truly am sorry they keep getting later and later. If it makes any difference, I’m pretty sure I did break my ring finger last night when I took a tumble on mine and the husbands first date night in like… forever. I can’t really move it and it’s all black and blue and swollen and… ugh. Yucky looking. But I still managed to finish this chapter! I am dedicated as all fuck!
> 
> This chapter ended up being much longer than I… God, I say that just about every time, don’t I? Well, as usual, it got away from me. The date will be next chapter as a result but I promise, I will make it worth everyone’s time!
> 
> And sorry if anyone got notifications regarding the chapter update and then found it wasn't here when you came to look. I was having a lot of editing errors on my home computer. Managed to finally get it properly uploaded in my workplace. Naughty employee. But ah well. I still need to tighten the chapter up heaps but in the least you can have a read of it whilst I'm still toggling :) 
> 
> I hope you guys are all doing well and I can honestly say I have missed my readers during this past month! And thanks for getting me up over three-thousand hits! You guys rock!
> 
> Geez, forgot to add a warning the first time too. As such, please be warned that this chapter contains some confronting descriptive scenes. Mainly entailing nudity and sexual abuse/rape. I will be SO glad when I don't have to post THAT warning for every chapter!
> 
> So, read, hopefully enjoy and I look forward to seeing you all at the finish line!

 

> _“And I think – I think the point is to make us despair; to reject our own humanity, Damien: to see ourselves as ultimately bestial; as ultimately vile and putrescent; without dignity; ugly, unworthy. And there lies the heart of it, perhaps; in unworthiness.” –_ **William Blatty’s character Merrin ~ _The Exorcist~_**
> 
> _“Vickie… You know that forgiving yourself, is the one thing a person cannot do.” – **Morgan Freeman ‘Along Came a Spider’.**_

**_ John Hancock _ **

**_Goodneighbor – Current Day…_ **

And thank God Nick had sense enough where I had clearly lacked it.

Or had he also known? Had _all_ of them been made privy to the circumstances of Eve’s abuse and it was I and I only who was ignorant of it?

Was _that_ why they worked so hard to steer me away? Not out of lack of trust for me but because they were aware of the trauma Eve still continued to suffer and wished to spare her any further pain? Being chased by a man, when one had only just finished brutalizing her…

_Where had Nick been when this had been happening?_

Blinding static seared through my mind and my heart pounded in my chest as though it were striking at the bones of my ribcage with a sledgehammer. A flux of pure, unadulterated rage that I had never before experienced tore through every artery of my being. It made me dizzy and rendered the borders of my world into vague, shapeless blurs with neither context nor meaning. I was puffing and hissing so hard it was a wonder I didn’t suck my tongue into my throat. My guts roiled and boiled; bursting flame and churning acid. What nails I had were piercing the palms of my hand harder than those that pinned the Christ child to his cross.

_Marowski._

That bastard… that motherfucking _cunt_!

He had _raped_ my girl. He had _raped_ her, beaten her to a pulp and had bullied her with threats and repercussions for over a _year._

And I hadn’t known. I’d been blind. So fucking _blind_!

I was mayor of this town and under my watch, the woman I loved and so many others aside had been turned into the playthings of that… that dirty fucking _pig_!!

Jesus, of all the times to have a stupid fucking pink _butterfly_ on my face. Not that any of this mattered. Not the paint on my face, nor the fact that I wasn’t carrying a weapon, none of it.

I would rip the mongrel apart with my _bare hands._ Let him _try_ to put a bullet in me; I’d storm through whatever he sent my way and bring him to the ground like the sack of shit he was.

Jam my thumbs into his eyes until they turned to jelly and sunk into his stinking brain. Rip his tongue out, bash my fists into his teeth until they shattered and cracked like a smashed plate.

Then I’d cut the bastards dick off and _cram it down his fucking throat!!_

“Hancock. … _Hancock would you please STOP!?_ ”

It was Fahrenheit. Her words had been nothing more than background noise but now she was standing in my way and so I was forced to take notice of her. But only long enough to reach out and shove her aside again.

“I don’t want to even _look_ at you right now.” I hissed, feeling a spike in my anger that stemmed not from Marowski but from her.

“Hancock-”

“ _I FUCKING MEAN IT, FAHRENHEIT!!”_ I yelled, turning my back to the Hotel Rexford and allowing my bodyguard to become the full focus of my attention. The rage I felt boiling inside of me was matched only by the blistering sense of betrayal and disappointment. And though I was furious, I strangely felt like crying. “How could you?! How could you _lie_ to me all these years? How could you let him get away with doing this to _all_ those women?!”

Fahrenheit was usually so controlled and so strong that it might have been a shock to see her look so vulnerable and distressed. If I’d cared enough for her feelings at that time. But I was still far too angry at her to really give a shit.

“Hancock… it’s… it’s not that straightforward.” She insisted, her eyes focused at a point just below my chin. I don’t think she felt safe, or perhaps justified in meeting my eyes. “Marowski… he’s been keeping the Triggermen at bay. He has power over them that you don’t. And if he… he was angry enough with you to take his hands off of the reigns…”

I glowered at her, surprised to find that I could indeed feel angrier than I had the second I had stormed out of Meaghan’s shop. Nothing Fahrenheit was saying was helping her cause any, either. It was all just… pretence and excuse. And on some level; arrogance.

“I see. And because I’m such an uncontrollable wild card, you didn’t trust that I could maintain the situation myself? You figured that I needed to be – what?” I gave her a very dangerous look. “ _Handled!?”_

She glanced away from me; her expression a study in shame. Perhaps in support of my own words, I felt my temper continue to spike ever upward.

“You presumptuous _coward._ ” I snarled, reigning in every impulse that urged me to close the distance between us and lay my hand to the side of her face. I had never struck a woman in my life (if you of course didn’t count the odd Raider) but I had never before been so utterly disgusted with one either. “ _You_... getting in Eve’s ear like that; scaring her into silence. Keeping her from coming to me, when I could have done something to help.” My voice cracked and my vision blurred all the more as tears came to my eyes once again. I wanted to keep from this but the situation was just too god damn awful. I couldn’t hold myself together. “You’ve been to that same place as her. We _both_ have! How, after everything that you went through, were just content to stand by and let these girls suffer the same way?!”

“I wasn’t fucking _content._ ” Fahrenheit shot back, turning her eyes towards mine reproachfully. “I was _far_ from content! But what other choice did I have? When I _know_ how you deal with things you don’t like? One wrong move and this town is back to square one!! And then we’re _all_ fucked!!”

“So the trade-off of a few girls dignity is worth keeping me at the helm, is that it?!” I spat, seeing Meyer drift up to stand at my side. The gesture seemed to emphasize firmly his own feelings on the matter and it seemed as though he was far from Fahrenheit’s corner. “Fucking terrific, Fahrenheit. I can only _imagine_ how many women in Goodneighbor resent me now! All of them forced to stay silent just so I can tarry on as mayor. That’s fucking lovely, that is!”

“Oh, would you _stop_ being so melodramatic.” Fahrenheit snapped back, crossing her arms tight across her faded white shirt as her brows axed in towards her eyes. “This is _exactly_ why I didn’t want to tell you because in spite of you _thinking_ you don’t need to be ‘handled’ you go and fly _off_ the fucking handle with the least fucking provocation! And maybe _you_ don’t care a wit about yourself but _I_ do! And what do any of these people matter to me, if the alternative is that we lose _you?!”_

“Don’t you _dare_.” I hissed, pointing a finger firmly and unwaveringly in her direction. This was not a reprimand but a clear and undisguised threat. “Don’t you go trying to justify this by talking up the ‘greater good’ and how much I mean to you and all that bullshit. I asked you to come on as my bodyguard because I _trusted_ you. Because I thought we were a team. Because I thought we were god damned friends, Mel.”

“We are friends.” Fahrenheit insisted but I cut her off with a violent sweep of my hand.

“Fucking _bullshit_! Bullshit!! A friend doesn’t keep this kind of shit from a friend. A friend doesn’t undermine a friend by making them look a damn fucking fool.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “And a friend sure as hell doesn’t try to stop their friend from going to sort out the miserable cunt that messed around with his missus. So you just get one thing clear.” I levelled my finger at her again. “Either you shut up and shift your ass out of the way, or I’ll bury you in the same hole I plan to put Marowski in. Your choice.”

Fahrenheit’s eyes widened as though she couldn’t quite believe what I had said. It was true she had heard me direct such words at people I disliked before but never had I reason to direct them towards her. And what’s more is I think she knew full well, that I meant every one of them. I had done far worse to people I was far less angry with.

“You can’t be serious.” She said and though her voice was calm, I’m certain her heart was anything but. Her crossed arms weren’t pinned as tightly to her chest as they were before, which meant she was likely thinking she may have to use them at some point. “You’re going to risk throwing all of Goodneighbor into Civil war for what? This broad you’ve barely known for a _year_?!”

I closed the space between us and leaned down, putting our faces so close together I’m certain she could make out every pore in my spoiled flesh.

“Fahrenheit… I would go to war with Caesar’s _Legion_ for that _broad_.” I stated, placing one hand against the top of her shirt. I scrunched where the buttons met; pinned a good section of it between my fingers and then used it to twist her off to the side. She stumbled, almost losing her footing but managed to right myself as I released my hold on her. “But I can’t expect that you’d understand what it’s like to love someone like that. All this shit; you’ve just done it to protect yourself. Because so long as it’s not happening to you, it’s okay.” I gave her a long hard look now; thinking to hurt her before I surged ahead to exact worse harm still against Marowski. “You know; I always knew you were a bitch. Never bothered me none. But you really are a bigger cunt then I ever gave you credit for.” I squared my shoulders back towards her; all the things that she had said to Eve earlier in the day sweeping back to the forefront of my mind. “Knowing what Marowski had done, you _still_ said those things to Eve? That she was ‘ _accommodating_ ’? That she wasn’t so ‘ _cherubic behind closed doors’_? That she was ‘ _committed to handling big jobs’_?”

Fahrenheit squared her jaw in a way that simply confirmed my suspicions. That she had indeed been making allusions to what had happened to Eve in Marowski’s office; trying to injure her for whatever reason. Flame licked the corners of my temper once more.

“You nasty girl.” I hissed, squeezing my fists tight as the impulse to batter her up both sides of the head swelled to the surface again. “I don’t know what your issue is with Eve but I tell you now that she’s a braver person than you could _ever_ be. And the fact that she could still be so sweet to you, even knowing that you were trying to wound her?” I held up my hand and extended my pinkie. “That woman has more class in her little finger than _you_ have in your entire body. You should be fucking ashamed of yourself. I know for damn sure _I_ am.”

“Hancock…” She called as I turned to storm away. I held up my hand to warn her off.

“I’ve had enough of you for one day, Mel. Just… make yourself scarce. Before I end up doing something I’ll regret.”

“Better do what he says, Betta.” Meyer said, his voice a little more temperate than my own. But not by much. “I’ll keep an eye out. Check for any traps and all that.”

Fahrenheit may have had a thought to argue with him but I wasn’t about to give either of them a chance to debate the point. I powered myself full steam ahead towards the _Hotel Rexford_ ; moving as quickly as my bung hip and leg would allow me. I didn’t give a shit whether either of them had my back or not. None of it mattered. I was too high on adrenaline and raw fury to think of anything other than Marowski.

_Kill him. Kill the rotten cunt._

_No… make it slow. Drag it out. Make him hurt real bad. Torture him… make him suffer…_

_He made_ her _suffer,_ _nothin' surer_.

But in the back of mind I knew that I was beyond such things. My fury didn’t permit me such patience so as to draw out a long, slow, deserved death on Marowski’s account. Nothing so creative and thoughtful, in the least. I’d hurt him, sure. Hurt him _real_ fucking bad.

But it was gonna be fast. I wasn’t gonna stop until the bastard lay dead and bloody at my feet. I’d rake with my fingernails, jab and punch with my fists, bite and stomp and smash whatever I could find over the fuckers head.

I surged up the front steps and slammed open the doors with both hands. I tumbled in; nothing graceful in my poise whatsoever. There were people gathered in the foyer and I knew that they were looking at me as I charged inside but I couldn’t see their expressions. Not that I was looking at them, nor paying any particular attention to their existence in the first place. My eyes were locked on _that room._

Clair was behind the front desk and she came quickly sweeping around it as she saw me approach. I didn’t give her a chance to speak.

“Is he in there?” I hissed, slamming the palm of my hand to the reception desk as Clair reached out in an effort to either slow me down or assuage me. Her expression flinched into one of unfamiliar fear and wariness as I screamed over her shoulder. “ _ARE YOU IN THERE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT?!”_

“Hancock, what on _earth_ has gotten into you?” Clair hissed, her eyes darting back and forth across the people gathered in the foyer. “ _Come one now_ , we have guests…”

“As if I give a fuck, Clair!” I snarled back, wrenching myself out of her hands and storming behind the desk and into the hall beyond. The double doors to Marowski’s office loomed before me and my hatred swelled to ever more monumental heights at the sight of them. The place where he… where _she’d…_ “Marowski!! You’re a fucking _dead man, you HEAR ME?!”_

I slammed my good foot against the line where the right and left doors met; sending both halves whipping open to reveal the room beyond. Meyer surged from behind me, using his shoulder to sort of steer me off to the side and then turning to the left and right once he had entered. His chin lifted as his eyes took in all corners of the room and he crouched as he circled the desk; looking I suppose for any trip wires or hidden explosives. I could care less because what _I_ had been searching for wasn’t in the room at all.

“Goddammit…” I hissed, turning from the empty swivel chair and running my palm over the back of my neck. Wasn't like Marowski to vacate his office. And to leave it empty... Stan would usually be hanging around in the very least. I jerked as I felt the presence of someone bumbling up on my left hand side and lifted my fist, readying myself to launch it straight into Marowski's paunchy face. But it was Adrian who appeared from around the wall, flinching back reflexively when he saw me standing there with my fist in the air. I sighed, lowering it and flexing my fingers out one by one. 

“Jesus… don’t sneak up on me like that, BC.”

“Sorry, boss.” Adrian replied, setting down what looked like a number of heavy grocery bags by the doorway before straightening up and glancing about the room. His thick jaw was rigged so tight it near pushed what remained of his nose up between his eyebrows. “Evie went done told you what happened then, eh?”

I gave him a cold, patently unimpressed look. “For fucks sake… don’t you go telling me now that _you_ were in on this whole thing from the start?”

Adrian stared back at me in confusion. “From the st- Hey, all I know is that this damn fool went and walked in on the girls in the shower. Only happened less than an hour ago, so it’s not like I knew much more than you ahead of time.”

So, he _wasn’t_ aware of the whole story. Thank God for that. Clearly, Fahrenheit had been keeping this shit close to her chest for a long damn while. And if she hadn’t told Adrian the circumstances, there was little chance she’d bothered to bring anybody else into the fold either. The three of us were the tightest from back in the old days; with Meyer being a close fourth. And he obviously hadn’t been in the know either, given his reaction.

I stinted on whether or not to tell Adrian but reasoned that there was little point in trying to keep the information further concealed. No express details of course but I would need him to be heading shit up with the Neighborhood Watch whilst I figured out what would need doing in regards to Fahrenheit. He would be better prepared if he understood the full, sordid reality of the situation. Much as I… didn’t want to tell _anyone_ what had happened to Eve…

“That… mongrel bastard… messed with her.” I said, trying to keep the edge of emotion out of my voice but failing abysmally. I sniffed, cleared my throat and tried to suck my agony back down into my still boiling gut. “Her and… some other girls in town as well, apparently.”

Adrian’s eyes bulged wide and his lips parted to further express his shock. “Fucking hell, boss… No _fucking way_! How long ago was this?”

I shook my head and pinched my lips together as emotion surged up through me again. “Eve, he… he… raped her… a year ago. Here in this room.” I turned my head to the side, pulled my eyes shut and fought hard to keep myself steady. When I felt I had some semblance of control, I opened them again. “The others… I don’t know. All I know is… it’s been going on a while.”

Adrian made a sound as though he were in physical pain. “No, no, _no._ Oh _not_ Evie.” He turned and slammed his fist to the wall beside the door, flinched his eyes shut for a moment before then straightening up and squaring his shoulders. He turned to me, jaw clenched tight with resolve. “Right. I’ll go on up and check his room.”

“You find him up there, you drag his sorry ass down the stairs.” I stated, jabbing my finger towards Adrian as he slung his tommy gun around into his hands; releasing the holster from about his broad chest. “Anyone kills that son of a bitch, it’s gonna be _me_. We clear on that?”

Adrian’s black eyes appeared all the darker for the intense anger he too must have been feeling. “You got it, boss. Throw ‘im headfirst down them, it comes to that.”

“Just keep an eye out for any traps.” Meyer called over as Adrian turned to jog away. “Lousy _bastardo_ probably suspects we’re onto him by now. He mighta stacked the deck.”

Adrian gave a nod to indicate that he had taken this on board before turning and making his way up the stairs towards the second floor. I set my hands on my hips, took a deep breath and turned to Clair. Any other time, it would have bothered me to see the way that she flinched back; clearly frightened by my anger. But right then and there, all I could think about was Eve. Breaking down on the floor. Sobbing. Crying. Hating herself. _Blaming_ herself.

“When was the last time you saw Marowski, Clair?” I asked, a little surprised to hear how strangely sober my voice had become. Colder but not necessarily calmer. I could feel the tremor bubbling beneath the words; the spider web thin leash I had tentatively tethered to my temper.

Clair held her hands up slowly, palms towards me as though I was approaching her with a gun. It was clearly her means of trying to assist me in maintaining whatever calm I had come into possession of.

“He walked out the front door not less than thirty minutes ago, Hancock.” She said, turning only slightly to gesture towards the still gaping front doors. “He said he was going to the Statehouse. I haven’t seen him since then. I swear.”

So, he hadn’t returned following his uninvited visit to the girls in the shower room. It shouldn’t have surprised me in hindsight. Why would Marowski return to his place of business, having committed such a brazen act in my own home? Of _course_ one of the girls was going to talk. Fahrenheit couldn’t keep _everyone_ quiet. He was hardly going to wait around for me to come and lodge my boot up his ass.

But it occurred to me, could this in fact have been the plan all along? I’d been too angry to consider it earlier but could the intrusion on the privacy of the girls and the blatant disregard towards me have been some sort of challenge? To provoke me into walking into a trap? Meyer and Fahrenheit both seemed to think it was a possibility…

Surely not. Why not be waiting inside his office with a gun if _that_ were the case? I’d burst right on in through the doors with nothing between myself and the hail of bullets he might have directed towards me. Badda-boom, dead Mayor. Assassination complete, return to your homes, nothing more to see here.

I went back into the room and started reefing through the drawers of his desk. Meyer had long since checked beneath it for concealed traps and had since busied himself swiping through the nearby filing cabinet; looking I suppose for some sort of paper trail to indicate what Marowski’s movements might have been. I eased each of the drawers open carefully; mindful that they might have been rigged to blow but it seemed Marowski’s intentions had not been to catch me in some sort of half-assed trap. At least; not yet.

The drawers were even messier than those in my own office; stuffed with paper work that seemed to have no sort of order and littered with wrappers of various snacks he’d no doubt been stuffing into his ugly, fat face. The lower, taller drawers had bottles of liquor stashed away; some half drunk, some completely empty. There were cigarette butts and half smoked stogies simply littered about, both within the drawers and in some cases, jammed into empty bottles. Because an ashtray would have been _far_ too convenient.

I came across one folder that had the messily scrawled word **_‘Profits’_** scratched across the front in black marker. Upon opening it, I discovered a number of loose sheets of paper, on which Marowski had detailed the caps that he had secreted away from conducting Chem deals outside of the Goodneighbor jurisdiction.

Considering how infuriated with the man I already was, you wouldn’t think something like this would make much of an impact. But it would have still made me furious in its own right, had I not known about his other offenses. Chem trade in Goodneighbor was typically conducted and managed by Fred; who was, technically, an employee of the _Hotel Rexford._ But a town couldn’t survive if a certain amount of taxes weren’t regularly paid to reinforce the town coughers and Marowski had an agreement with me, which stipulated that Chem trade was conducted entirely _within_ the town. Unless, he coordinated other arrangements through me first and stipulated a certain percentage from these outside transactions to the town coughers.

So… Marowski had been conducting business on the sly. Making outside arrangements with, not only individuals from Diamond city, but such unscrupulous groups such as the Gunners and the Raiders; according to the records. And been pocketing one hundred percent of the profits.

The paperwork indicated a major decrease in his finances, having occurred approximately thirteen months earlier. This must have aligned with Eve and the others having destroyed his Chem lab. Since then, it appeared as though he had managed to get another one up and running in some location that he hadn’t listed alongside the profit margin but it would have impacted his resources severely in the meanwhile.

So, the bastard had been scamming me. And not just me but the entire town. A town that relied heavily on its funding to support those with disabilities and illness. A town that, from its own rough beginnings and squalled reputation, required a large, able bodied security squad; who all in turn required a wage. A town that was currently in the midst of major upgrades that would improve the lives of most everyone residing there; running up the costs of the hired help, the materials required and the greedy fucking cunt couldn’t even put a hand in his pocket to improve the conditions of his own fucking hotel!

“Hey boss, check this out.” Meyer called and he appeared at my side with another folder in hand. He placed it down beside the profit folder on the desk and indicated to a passage on the foremost page. I leaned closer so that I was able to read the messy scrawl that was so distinctive of Marowski.

**_October, 23_ **

_“That scary lookin’ fucker turned up fifteen minutes earlier than the messenger said. Institute bastards just like to keep us on our toes, I guess. Gave him the information as promised; all the stuff concerning the town funding and why upgrades and expansions were occurring. He really hit me up for info about that little blonde cunt; what her movements were, who was travelling with her. Just about anything really. Guess it makes sense given that they’ve got her ‘kid’ and whatnot but if she’s that big of a problem, why not just waste her fat ass and be done with it? Hell, I’ll do it they give the go ahead. Bitch sure is taking her sweet time gettin’ those caps to me. Usin’ the mayors’ hard-on for her to try and get me to back off._

_Doesn’t change nothin’ though. Ain’t nothin’ that changes the past._

“Bastard’s an informant for the Institute.” Meyer hissed and the part of me that wasn’t buzzing with rage wondered whether steam was visibly whistling out from my ears. I showed him in turn the information I had found about his embezzlement scheme. As if it wasn’t enough that the bastard was a thief and a rapist, he was a mother fucking Judas to boot.

“Bastard.” Meyer hissed, picking up the folder from the desk to take a closer look at some of the figures. As he did, the wood surface of the desk was freed from its shadow and I noticed for the first time, the strange markings marring its surface. Leaning closer, I squinted my eyes; studying the long, thin indentations before then running my fingertips across them. Eve’s words from earlier came thundering back to the forefront of my mind.

_“He touched me… stuck his tongue in my mouth, slapped me and threw me face first onto his desk-”_

Scratch marks.

They were goddamn… scratch marks.

It was this desk. _This_ desk that he…

Normally, I would have asked before simply taking but in this instance my temper wouldn’t allow it. Meyer’s eyes widened as I reached up and snatched the axe out of his loosened grip, all the while hearing and feeling nothing but the overwhelming, boiling rage that had consumed my mind and body. Later, I would feel that discomfort and pain I had further inflicted upon my damaged leg and hip as I brought the axe down; over and over again into the wooden surface of the desk but then and there, nothing existed but the fury.

The first strike carved a notch in it and I was forced to wrench it back out before doubling the effort with my second stroke. I wasn’t an experienced hand with the weapon such as Meyer was but you hardly needed experience when you were operating under the fuel of manic ire. I struck again and again; eventually severing the table into halves and then going after each half separately. Papers burst from the drawers and littered the floor; crushed beneath my boots as I reduced each segment of the desk into the smallest pieces I could manage. Some of the ringing in my ears had started to dim and I was able now to hear the noises I was producing; angry, animalistic screams whose only context was the blinding rage pounding beneath it. As the strength in my arms withered and my body caved under the pressure to keep up with the tempo of my fury, those screaming roars wasted also and dissolved into desperate, aching sobs and I collapsed onto the floor, amidst the devastation I had caused and leaned my head into the handle of the axe. My shoulders heaving as the anger left me, allowing the tide of grief that had been patiently waiting in its shadow, to rush in and consume me.

Because Marowski was _right._ _Nothing_ could change the past. And my hacking his desk into tiny pieces would never remedy the fact that he’d _had_ her. For my long year of wanting her, of patiently waiting for the moment that she consented to becoming my lover, Marowski had simply grabbed a hold of her, pinned her down and _fucked her._

He clearly possessed not a wit of reverence for this wonderful woman and the intangible worth of her intimacy. He had taken something of which I considered to be of incomparable value – something of which he had no right – and treated it as though it were less than nothing.

He’d stuck his –

_Stop it._

But I couldn’t _stop_ seeing it. Couldn’t stop _thinking_ it. I could _see_ him looming over her; pinning her naked, quivering body down onto his desk. Finding that sweet, beautiful cleft between her legs and shoving his disgusting, filthy cock _inside of her._

Inside of my Eve. My darling… my sweet, darling _Eve_ …

God, I’d worked so hard to protect her from being hurt this way. But I came to the party too late. And the worst part was; it was _my_ fault.

I’d _failed_ to protect her. Because I had failed to take the running of this town seriously. And in doing so, I had allowed monsters like Marowski to hunt and scavenge from the shadows. And he had dragged her into the darkness and had his violent way with her…

And ever worse still is that I had _been_ with her that night. He had raped her not _minutes_ after I had left the _Hotel Rexford. Minutes!_

“It’s my _fault._ ” I sobbed, pressing my forehead tighter to the handle of the axe as Meyer’s fingers stole tight to my shoulder in turn. “I should have just walked her upstairs… Why the _fuck-”_ I slammed the base of the axe hard into the twisted, jagged embers of what had once been Marowski’s desk. “- didn’t I just walk her upstairs? _Why?!_ She would have been safe – she would have been _safe –_ Oh my God, I _let_ this happen to her – I let that _cunt_ rape my baby – Oh _God…_ ”

“Hey. Ease up there.” Meyer said, his fingers tightening against me. “Only one to blame for this is Marowski. Not you, not Eve, not even Fahrenheit. You all keep putting the blame on yourselves, you’re only lettin’ the cocksucker win.” He gave my shoulder a firm shake. “You weren’t to know what Marowski was gonna do, _Capo._ And iffin’ you did, I know ya wouldn’t only have walked that gal of yours to her room but ya would’ve come straight back here and put a bullet between that prick’s eyes.”

“Bastard ain’t good enough for a quick death like _that._ ” I hissed, reaching down into my pants pocket and extracting my handkerchief. I turned my face away from Meyer and quickly wiped at my eyes. “I’m sorry, brother. Don’t mean to embarrass you.”

He gave my shoulder a firm shake. “I’m not embarrassed. Cry all ya like, son. Ain’t no one gonna blame ya for it.”

The shameful thing is, I wanted to do a damn lot more of it too. I wanted to cry _a lot._ Because I knew what it was like to be raped. I understood the fear and the self-loathing and the disgust that inevitably followed. And Eve had walked around; nursing those feelings and injuries even when _I’d_ been travelling with her. And she hadn’t said a word. She’d even continued to pay the filthy cunt off because she held herself responsible for stealing from him in the first place.

Money, that _he_ had in turn stolen from Goodneighbor. _That_ was the dreadful irony of it.

I cleaned myself up; knowing that there was much to be done and knowing that crying was doing little to resolve any of it in this moment. Later, perhaps. When I was alone and it wouldn’t hurt anyone else to see it. Eve would need my strength; not my indulgent toddler like tantrums.

I passed Meyer’s axe back to him and apologized for having snatched it from his hands in the first place. He waved my words away; his eyes only conveying the sense of pain that he in turn felt for both myself and no doubt for Eve, who he had grown fond of in the time he’d known her.

“Gather up what paperwork I _haven’t_ managed to make a mess of.” I requested, reaching down and plucking up one of the folders even as I said it. I started shoving papers into it. “I’ll need you to get on the horn to a few of the boys and get ‘em over here. I want all this stuff transported over to the Statehouse. Need to go through it all. Find out how much damage this bastards actually done.”

“Got it.” Meyer said, reaching down and unhooking the walkie-talkie from his belt loop. He depressed the side button, set the speaker to just beside his lips and started to speak. “Pattie, Ryan, Carmine. Need you boys to shift your _culo’s_ over to the-”

He stopped at the very same moment I held my hand up for him to do so. We’d both heard it; the echo of Meyer’s voice casting out from some other unseen point in the room. We looked about, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from and eventually homed in on the ham radio which rested on Marowski’s credenza. Meyer immediately took his finger off of the transmit button and cursed as he fiddled with the dial.

“ _Cazzo! This_ must be what the boys were yacking about before. I got it on the open broadcast.” He snapped, looking especially annoyed with himself as he twisted the dial setting. I glanced over at what he was doing and pointed out to the setting which was intended to transmit directly to the talkies that were in possession of the Guards and mine and Fahrenheit’s own devices.

“101.3. That one right there.”

Now Meyer looked even more annoyed. “Well, _that’s_ the one I had it switched to after that stuff up at the gate.” He grumbled, twisting the dial around to the correct setting and thumbing the transmit button. He started speaking into it again. “Just running a test, fella’s. Standby.”

As expected, his voice once more transmitted out of the Ham radio. I went over and bent close to examine the device; noting that not only had the device been enhanced in some way (some thick square wrapped in tape had been adhered to the side) but that it was tuned in to the security setting. Meyer hadn’t made a mistake at all. Marowski had been monitoring us.

“Explains how he knew what time to make his way over to the Statehouse.” I muttered, reaching around the back of the device to shut it off. I would have much preferred to smash it against the ground but I would need to keep it intact to figure out just what Marowski had done to it. And _who_ if not him, had made the alterations. “Bastard’s tapped into our system. Wouldn’t matter if you were on open bandwidth or not.”

It was a hell of a feat. A ham radio could typically connect only to a device similar in nature. In short, another ham radio. The fact that he was able to pick up our own signals from the Walkie Talkies was, to me at least, bizarre. I would need someone with a better eye for machines to take a look at it and try and figure out how Marowski had done it. I would ordinarily say Rufus but given that he resided in the Hotel Rexford, I couldn’t be certain that he was to be trusted. Not until I’d combed him over at least.

“Hey, uh… what the hell is goin’ on, mate? Ya needin’ me or not? Over.” Came Pattie’s impatient voice from the talkie in Meyer’s hand. He depressed the button again and held it up to his mouth.

“Ah _sí._ Needin’ you, Ryan and Carmine ta be shifting your asses over to the _Hotel Rexford._ And for fucks sake, try and be discreet. Over.”

The talkie hissed static for a moment and then I heard Ryan’s deep voice filter back an ironic sounding chuckle.

“Discreet? Hey, I’m not the one talkin’ in bad Italian and swingin’ around an axe, brother. En route now. Over.”

There was another crackle and then Carmine’s voice chimed in. “Give me five. Just gotta get off the can first. Over.”

Meyer groaned and held the talkie back up to his mouth again. “Well for god’s sake, wipe and be done with it. We need some movement with this. Over.”

I could hear Pattie’s laughter as Meyer took his thumb off of the button. “On me way now. See ya in a few. Over.”

I sighed as I continued sifting through the paperwork littering the floor; compiling as much as I could into what folders I was able to scratch up. In my anger, I hadn’t thought ahead and could have severely compromised all of the information. Some of the papers were so badly squashed and shredded that it would be a wonder if we were able to discern _anything_ from them.

Not that there was a trial system in place in Goodneighbor or anything of the sort. But I _needed_ what information I could gleam, so that I could attempt, in some way, to repair the damage that Marowski had done. Not only in regards to the girls that he had brutalized but the town finances itself and the information he had fed back to the Institute. I cursed to myself; realizing that I had been treating a very dangerous individual as but a mere nuisance for years and would now be forced to pay the price for it. God, just _give_ me the chance to get my hands around that bastards thick neck and I’d snap it like an uncooked Diamond City noodle.

“Hey, what the Hell’s going on in here?” Came a deep voice from the doorway and I glanced up to see none other than Stan Slavin striding in. He was armed, balancing his tommy gun between both hands but he hadn’t yet made a move to level it at us.

Not that Meyer gave him the chance. I saw the sadistic smile peak on his lips, not seconds before he turned and swung his axe in an upward glance. He used the side, rather than the back or front, catching Stan hard beneath his chin before the man had time to realize what the hell was going on.

The force of the blow was so strong that he was temporarily lifted off of his feet; his head snapping back and jaw cracking as it broke through. Blood burst from between his lips and splattered the arch of the doorway as he stumbled back; striking the dividing wall that partitioned off the front desk from the hall beyond. He collapsed onto his back, his legs windmilling wildly at the air as though he were riding an invisible bicycle. He looked like a Bloatfly that had been blown out of the air by shotgun shrapnel.

Meyer moved in quickly, knocking the abandoned firearm out of the way before pressing the head of the axe against Stan’s throat; pinning him in place. The gasping, groaning man was in too much pain to put up anything remotely resembling a struggle but I knew Meyer well enough to understand that exerting this control was a safety measure. Not to mention something he got great enjoyment out of. That sadism was what made him such an effective enforcer.

“Well, well. If it ain’t Marowski’s loyal hound.” Meyer whispered, grinning as he pressed the head of the axe down hard enough to make Stan retch. “Hate ta tell ya this; but you picked a _bad_ time to come slobbering in here, mutt. Boss has got a mean temper on him, right now.”

Stan spluttered; his jaw near hanging limp and just about rendering him incapable of speech. He was now using his hands in an attempt to alleviate the pressure the blade was putting on his throat.

“I don’t… what are you- _talking_ about?!”

“Oh, I have a good idea you know full well what we’re talking about.” I said, more calmly than I felt as I picked up the tommy gun from where Meyer had kicked it. I trailed the barrel lightly along the floor as I approached Stan. I knelt at his side, turning the gun about on its muzzle; which I perched no less than an inch from the man’s ear. “So, let’s cut right to the chase. Where’s Marowski?”

I couldn’t quite tell if it was confusion in Stan’s eyes or fear. Either way, he knew he was in serious trouble. Staving in someone’s jaw is a sure fire way to let them know that you mean business.

“I… I don’t _know_ where the boss is at!” He croaked, his eyes straying over to where I had now stopped rotating the guns barrel. I gave a little smile, purely for theatrical value as I turned and glanced up at Meyer.

“Well, at the very best that makes you a shitty bodyguard.” I stated, twisting the firearm about so that the stock now faced towards the floor. “At worst; a goddamned liar. Hold out your arm.”

“Like… hell!” Stan spat, prompting Meyer to lean what looked like most of his weight into the axe handle. Red veins started appearing in the whites of Stan’s eyes.

“STICK OUT YOUR GODDAMN ARM, OR _I’LL CUT YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF_!!” Meyer yelled and Stan, face turning a violent shade of red, complied and allowed his shaking left arm to flop palsy like to the floor. I used my foot to pin it at the wrist, forcing his fingers to splay themselves like a spiders legs and lowered myself once more into a crouching position. I moved my mouth as close to Stan's ear as I was capable of.

“One more time.” I said, managing against all pretences at keeping my voice calm and level. “Since I don’t think you understood the seriousness of the situation when I first asked. Where. Is. Marowski?”

Meyer alleviated some of the pressure against Stan’s throat to allow him to answer; which was a good idea, given that the man looked close to passing out. He took a few labored breaths, eyes prickling with tears and twitching his broken, bloodied jaw from side to side.

“Like I said,” He slurred, staring up at me with such an earnest expression, I almost believed the guy. “I don’t _know_ where Marowski is.”

Stan’s scream pierced the air as I slammed the stock of the gun down onto his pinkie finger, shattering the delicate bones within. His gasps turned to sobs and pleading as I leaned back in close; pushing the firearms muzzle up beneath his chin. Forcing his eyes to lock onto my own.

“Lie to me again,” I said. “And I’m gonna break another one. Keep on lying and I’m gonna start cutting them off.” I used my finger to indicate down the length of his arm. “All the way down ‘til ya got yourself a nice _big_ bloody socket where ya used to have an arm.”

“Please… please _don’t._ ” Stan whimpered and I felt the coolness leach out of my voice as white hot anger took precedence instead.

“ _Please, please don’t._ Wonder how many times you heard _those_ words coming from outta this office and turned a blind eye?” I leaned closer, hoping that even in spite of my condition, he could see the fury that I knew full well was resonating in my own eyes. “You _knew_ what he was doing to those girls, didn’t ya?”

From the expression on Stan’s face, I could tell right away that I was on the mark. I hissed as I brought the gun down again, shattering his ring finger. I had to wait for him to stop screaming before I spoke again.

“You _knew_ and you _turned_ your fucking back!!” I yelled, climbing to my feet and pacing the hall, aware that Pattie and Ryan had both since arrived and had entered the hallway on the left hand side. They didn’t say anything; both aware that they weren’t to interfere when I was conducting ‘business.’ “Or… or could it be that you _didn’t_ turn your back?”

I moved to his side, snatched his arm from where he had since cradled it to his chest and grabbed his mangled hand in my own. I squeezed and further crushed the broken digits; working another scream out of him in the process.

“Maybe you were in on it, eh?” I tilted my head from side to side. “Getting off on it just like Marowski was. Bit of extra pussy on the side, huh?”

Stan gasped up furiously into my face. “I never… _touched_ any of the girls!” He turned and spat blood off to the side. A bloodied molar quickly followed suit. “And that shit… most of that shit was consensual! They worked out _deals_ with him – it wasn’t like he _forced_ them or-”

His head struck the wall, pitching his hat off to the side as I punched him square in the face. His nose broke beneath the blow, sending more blood streaming down over his mouth. I didn’t give a chance to recover, laying punch after punch until both eyes were swollen and his face rendered into something that might have been lovingly loomed in the _Pickman Gallery._ I lost track of how many times I had struck him; much as I had done when busting up Marowski's desk earlier. Blind fury doesn't exactly have a 'less is more' mentality.

“FUCKING _BULLSHIT_!!” I roared, climbing to my feet and stamping one of my boots down onto his chest. Blood pitched up from between his lips as the force knocked it out of his mouth. “I’m bettin’ _none_ of those girls woulda gone ta the sheets with him if he hadn’t pinned ‘em into a corner, somehow! Just like he did with _Eve!_ ”

Stan’s engorged eyes widened, realizing I think just _why_ exactly I was so angry. And this most of all must have been the most frightening thing to comprehend; because the nature of my offense was now extremely personal. And I wasn’t known for my gentle touch, even when the situation was strictly ‘business’.

“Your boss has _stolen_ from me. He’s _stolen_ from Goodneighbor. He’s leaked information to the Institute and coerced and taken advantage of my citizens. That’s more than enough for me to want his ass dead. But for what he did to my girl?” I glared down at him; forming my words slowly and carefully through the rattling hiss of my voice. Leaving nothing to interpretation. “It’ll make what I’ve done to you look _pretty_. _Long_ before I show him the sweet mercy of death.”

I straightened up, snapping my fingers towards Ryan and Pattie.

“Bring his ass out to the street.”

Ryan looked the slightest bit apprehensive as he glanced between both myself and the groaning, bloodied mess of Stan Slovic.

“Hey boss, I know you’re good and mad and all. And ya got every right ta be. But-” He held up his own mangled hand to counter me as I made to round on him. “- you’re not planning on lynching this guy out in broad daylight, are ya?”

“Might put a bit of a dampner on the whole ‘Christmas fete’ thing, to be sure.” Pattie concurred, though the twisted look he shot in Stan’s direction suggested he would very much have been in favour of doing it otherwise. “’Sides, there are _kids_ out there, boss. Ya know; wee young, highly impressionable, nightmare inclined _children._ ”

This, of all things, was just enough to still my temper and force me to take a step back. I had wanted to take Stan out to the street, put his teeth to the curb and stomp the back of his head in but imagining what this image would do to the children currently gathered in the town, quickly pushed it from my mind.

We were trying to rebuild Goodneighbor. Establish a new reputation as a place where people could come to be _safe._ To be accepted and to feel at ease in approaching the man running the joint. The last thing I wanted was to send off the impression that a bloodthirsty tyrant was in charge of Goodneighbor. And I especially didn’t want to go traumatizing _children_ if I could help it.

No. If things were going to improve in Goodneighbor, then we were going to have to start doing things differently than how they were dealt with in the past. Besides, making an example of Stan was all well and good but it wasn’t going to help if he went to the grave with information pertaining to Marowski’s comings and goings. It would have assuaged my desire for revenge for perhaps a minute or two and then, I’d be left facing the same conundrum. Not to mention I could potentially drive a wedge between myself and the citizens of the town.

I sighed, pinching at what remained of my nose. This of course was why Fahrenheit felt I needed handling. Perhaps once upon a time, before I fell in love, I’d be more reasonable and less likely to lash out. I was far more dangerous now of destroying both myself and those around me; all for the very reason that I was so very in love with Eve and so desperate to both protect and avenge her.

I was just… _sick_ to death of this damn world hurting her at every turn. I hated all the trauma that she had experienced; all the shit that had been stacked against her since day one. She didn’t deserve it. Especially when her main indiscretion in life was kissing another man when she was still married. Hell, I knew of folks who’d done a lot worse and never got so much as a slap on the wrist. Eve had perhaps gone through some of the very worst things imaginable. Things that _no_ human being should have to deal with.

And in spite of all this, I knew that the kindness of her spirit would disapprove of me taking out my anger on Stan. She would _definitely_ abhor the very idea of allowing children to witness violence. Regardless of what had happened to her, these were not things that she would have wanted from me. To ruin the tentatively reforming impression of the town before it had even really gotten off of the ground. And to further sully and damage my own soul in the process. I had _promised_ to be the man that she deserved; not some opportunistic, impulsive thug.

I took a step back and tried to gather my thoughts. I reminded myself of the important things. It was _Marowski_ that I wanted. _Marowski_ that I would execute. _Marowski_ that I would _hurt. And c_ learly, Marowski had no intention of popping his head back in for a while, so I in turn needed as much information as possible.

In control, for the moment at least, I turned my attention back to Ryan and Pattie.

“Much as I hate to admit it; you’re both right.” I said, using my spare hand to press lightly to Meyer’s shoulder. He took his weight off of the axe handle; his expression more than a little disappointed. Stan remained where he had fallen; moaning and rocking from side to side, cradling his various injuries. “Pattie, Ryan. Get him over to the doc’s for me, would ya? Patch him up best ya can. Then throw his ass in the Statehouse lock up.”

“Right you are, guv’na.” Pattie stated, giving a light hearted, two-fingered salute as he and Ryan crossed over to where the rest of us were gathered. They weren’t gentle in their approach and hoisted Stan roughly to his feet; not sparing the least thought to his injuries. “Ay, no groanin’ now, Stan. Gettin’ off mighty easy, I be thinking.”

Between the pair of them, they managed to sort of levitate him out of the hallway and into the foyer. From the gasps and scattered whispering, I gathered that Clair’s guests were more than a little shocked at having witnessed his sad and sorry appearance. Probably hadn’t done much good for improving the towns’ reputation. Especially when Ryan snapped at them to mind their own business.

But what did I care? The least I could do was spare the kids a gruesome spectacle. And who knows; Stan might have been in possession of some information that could lead me to Marowski. No, it was best to keep him alive for now; though at that moment I would have enjoyed nothing more than snapping each of the little weasels fingers off and molerat stomping his face into the curb.

As Meyer returned to the office with a disappointed sigh; I took out my handkerchief and sopped up the blood from the floor and wall as best I could. I didn’t feel it right that Clair, or her hired help, should be the one to clean up after me. They might have been in Marowski’s employ but they weren’t close to him in the way that Stan was. I had no desire to take out any of my grievances on them directly. Bad enough I had likely traumatized the poor woman and all her guests with my behaviour.

Clair gave me still careful, reproachful look as I stepped out from behind the dividing wall. I sighed, taking my cigarettes from my pocket and plucking one out with a set of lips that hadn’t stopped feeling tense for the past ten minutes.

“I was angry.” I said, as way of explanation, and with the complete intention of continuing my defence in a similar vein. Clair however, beat me to it.

“Well, no shit.” She said tersely, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at me. Much like a parent reprimanding their child. “You’ve only just gone and scared the hell out of me. Not to mention all the out of towners…”

It was my turn now to narrow my eyes. “Well, forgive me if I might have been just the slightest bit cranky, having found out some of your bosses extra-curricular activities, Clair.”

She groaned, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling in a practiced expression of weariness coupled with annoyance.

“Oh, what has the big idiot gone and done _now?_ ”

The flippant manner in which she spoke, was proof enough to me that Clair was completely in the dark about what Marowski had been up to. Not that I had ever imagined she could possibly be involved in the first instance. She might have been in his employ, but she was hardly what you would call a fan; having been retained originally by his parents and remaining in service, namely because it offered her security, I suppose. She was hardly first cab off of the rank to champion Marowski’s name and she was further a strong and stable advocate for the women of the town. She would _never_ permit something like this to happen; not if she’d the knowledge and the means to put an end to it.

I lit the cigarette and took a puff; unsurprised that it did little to calm my nerves. My adrenaline was spiking at a rate unprecedented; comparable only to when I had taken Psycho in the past. My mood just about matched the agitation that the Chem also provided.

“Marowski's been… _exploiting_ women-” I began and then, because I hated myself for trying to downplay what this vulgar fucker had been doing; reworded. “He’s been _raping_ women, Clair.”

Clair’s eyes near popped from her skull; no doubt a near study in my own expression when Eve had told me what Marowski had done. Her hand jumped to her mouth; the fingers shaking slightly as she pressed them to her upper lip.

“Oh _no._ … Oh God.” She looked around, horrified. “Not _here?_ ”

I shrugged. “Here, yeah. Who knows where else. In the very least, he’s been exploiting these women. Forcing them into sex through blackmail or as part of some sick repayment scheme when they’re unable to pay him back loans.”

I’m not sure I could have wounded Clair more if I had driven a knife through her chest. But through that pain, her eyes held onto their clarity and she gave me a look that said quite plainly, she knew the score.

“But you’re not here for _those_ women. Are you, John?” She said softly and I had to twist my head and bite my lip in order to fight back the agony that welled up in me again. I puffed my cigarette, turned away so that I could put my fist to the wall. Attempt to regain some semblance of control.

Because how could I _not_ suffer for this? After all, I knew Marowski’s foul nature; perhaps better than anyone. I had used it to try and keep him in his place for all these years. After catching him with that underage girl. Had _she_ been in the same situation as all these other women who had apparently suffered at his hands? Or had my own extortion attempt simply exacerbated feelings that had been fermenting in Marowski’s mind all these long years? Was it I, in fact, who had pushed him over the edge and turned him into this insidious predator who preyed on those who were vulnerable and in need? Set this whole thing in motion?

I should _never_ have kept quiet about what I had discovered. What a dirty fucking hypocrite I was; screaming Fahrenheit down for her silence, when I had in fact been far worse in my act of discretion. Because I had been concerned about keeping Marowski’s money in the town; and maintaining some control over the Triggermen at the same time. I thought I could use this knowledge to keep control of him. But Marowski had proven that he was not a man who could live pressed beneath the thumb of another. He had lashed out in in a means to regain power and dignity that had been stripped from him. And regained that, at least in his own muddled mind, through his monstrous proclivities.

I should have thrown the bastard out the day I’d found him with that girl. Better yet, I should have killed the prick. If I had, then Eve wouldn’t have… _none_ of them would have…

I turned back to Clair and judging from the paleness that flooded her cheeks, I understood that mine was an expression to be feared.

“I’m here for Marowski.” I said, jabbing my cigarette laden hand in her direction. “And when I find him… I’m gonna put that mother fucker in the ground. What’s left of him anyway. That’s all you need to read into it.”

Clair wouldn’t meet my eyes, but she pressed her lips together and planted her slender hands on her hips. She offered a small, imperceptible nod.

“What do you need me to do?”

I pointed back the way I’d come; back towards Marowski’s office.

“I need… all that paperwork boxed up… and taken to my office. The radio too.” Because she looked somewhat confused, I further explained. “He’s been swindling profits from the town ta boot, Clair. _And_ feeding info to the Institute. _Everything_ that bastard is up to is no good. And I need to get to the bottom of it.” I pointed once more behind the wall. “Not expectin’ you to be haulin’ them boxes. Staff here, people you trust. Few of my boys’ll be back to lend a hand.” I gestured then towards the wall mounted terminal. “And a print-out of everything that’s on there. Sorry, but privacy be damned.”

I couldn’t fail to notice the quirk of Clair’s brow as she went straight to the terminal and started keying in information. “That’s sure as hell a show of the changing tides. You, steppin’ all over other people’s rights to privacy.”

I shrugged again, not giving a shit. “If people choose to live their lives shooting kites out of the sky, they can damn well do it someplace other than Goodneighbor.”

Naturally, Clair looked confused by my statement, but she didn’t pursue my meaning further; turning her attention instead to the computer screen and working to print out the clientele lists. Whilst she did this, I returned to Marowski’s office and assisted Meyer with boxing up as much paperwork as we were able.

The thing that I was most concerned with and yet most in desperate need of finding was not there, however. Second to Marowski, of course but unless Adrian was currently dragging him down the stairs by his throat, he wasn’t likely to be showing his ugly mug any time soon.

It was the photographs. Eve said that Marowski had taken pictures of her. I wanted to find them before anyone else did; to spare her further embarrassment. But after pretty much pulling apart the filing cabinet, scraping through his credenza and bundling up every piece of paper from the floor, I concluded that they weren’t being kept in the office.

But it occurred to me, that if _I_ was a scumbag like Marowski, I would either keep the photographs on my person or in the bedroom. Because if I myself had in my possession, a naked, yet consensually acquired photograph of Eve, I wouldn’t want to risk it being seen by anyone coming and going through my office space. Not to mention, as a predator, it would have gifted Marowski with further feelings of control. Being able to look over them whenever he wanted; secret them away to where only _his_ beady eyes could take in the pain and humiliation he caused. Dirty bastard likely jacked off to them as well; much as the thought horrified and disgusted me.

Whilst Meyer and a few of Clair’s employees carried off the paperwork to the Statehouse, I clambered up the stairs to see what was keeping Adrian. My leg and hip were throbbing like hell; little surprise, given the stress I had put my body under. Dr Amari was gonna give me a right proper telling of next time she saw me. I was supposed to be taking it easy whilst the injury was still heali-

_Dr Amari._

Fahrenheit said she had taken Eve to see the doc following Marowski’s assault. That she had treated her. Which suggested that Amari knew as well. Jesus. How many people had been keeping his shit quiet? I reminded myself to speak with Amari later; see just how much knowledge she had about the whole thing. Likely, she’d treated most of the girls; granted that Marowski had been as brutal with them as he had been with Eve.

Based on the mess cluttering up the hallway, I think it was safe to say that Adrian was not in a good mood either. Every door stood ajar, likely having been opened with the hotel keys, so as to ensure some privacy to Clair’s guests. Still, Adrian liked to be thorough and he wouldn’t want to have risked glossing over Marowski camping out in one of the other bedrooms.

A number of items had been ejected from the room I knew to be Marowski’s and were littered about the hallway as though a spurned spouse had just come across their partners cheating ways. Adrian had hurled out what had to be damn near all the man’s clothing. When I stepped up to the doorway, I saw that he had shoved furniture aside and emptied out most of the drawers in what furniture was in possession of them. He had spared no thought as to Marowski’s privacy; a factor I had absolutely no concerns with.

I picked through a number of his belongings as I approached Adrian; looking over some random paperwork that seemed unrelated to much of anything, really. Adrian crossed over behind me and carefully eased open the bedside drawer. He slid one of his massive fingers into the gap he had created; checking for a trigger string by trailing along the inside of the drawer itself. Finding nothing, he dispensed with apprehension and yanked the drawer out in its entirety; emptying the contents onto the floor.

More paperwork. A set of handcuffs. A twisted tube of lubricant. Box of tissues. Empty and full Jet canisters alike. A silver flask; whose contents sloshed within its steel confines as it bounced across the floorboards. A dirty magazine (in all senses of the word).

I swooped in as quickly as my bung hip would allow; holding out a hand to keep Adrian at bay for the moment. I sifted through the paperwork, finding nothing of particular interest. Notes he had made to himself; thoughts he seemed to think were worth preserving. Some not so flattering observations concerning yours truly. No photographs though. Surprising, given the amount of masturbatory aids he’d had squirreled away in the drawer itself. That lubricant certainly wasn’t used to help squeeze himself into his pyjama’s every night.

“Sorry, boss. Couldn’t pin the fucker down.” Adrian observed, pursing his lips together as he glanced about the wrecked room. I shook apart the pages of the dirty magazine but nothing dropped out onto the floor. “And ain’t no clues sayin’ where he mighta been headin’. Not so far as I’ve seen, anyhow. Ain’t thinkin’ he’ll be back anytime soon.”

I hissed furiously to myself; teeth clenched and eyes no doubt googly and horrifying as I scrunched the magazine between my fist. Years, I’d had to deal with Marowski. Absolute fucking _years._ Now, I couldn’t even point a finger to the man, after he had done what was quite easily the very worst thing he could have done to have wounded me. Short of killing Eve before my eyes and with him on the run, God knows what he had planned. How could I make her feel safe with _him_ out there; sneaking around? How would I ever begin to repair Goodneighbor for her, if I couldn’t bring the man who had tortured and raped her, to justice?

How could she ever trust, or feel safe with me, if I couldn’t even remedy this one thing for her?

I’d been arrogant and foolish. I had strutted about with all the confidence and swagger of someone who truly believed he had the entire world by the short and curlies. I thought _no one_ could get anything past me in my town. That I was always one step ahead; much smarter, more popular, garnering greater degrees of loyalty than any other person who drew the foul, dense air of this place.

I’d been so narrow minded; more concerned with opposing McDonough in the permitting of the liberties that he in turn saw fit to try and quash. Nothing mattered so much as proving _his_ way of doing things wrong. _Embracing chaos,_ what a load of shit. No wonder Nick felt he couldn’t trust me with anything; let alone the love and protection of a woman so tender and vulnerable as Eve.

“That’s why he did what he did today.” I said, scooping the papers up and all but tossing them back onto the bedside table. “He wasn’t planning on sticking around. He was just proving a point to me before going to ground. God knows where he is right now. _Or_ what he’s planning.” I groaned, pressing my hand to my forehead and squeezing my eyes shut. I felt like driving my dense head through the wall until my skull snapped apart. “Fuck, I’m a stupid, fucking idiot!!”

“Oi, you don’t like it when I say that shit about myself. Don’t you be goin’ and layin’ it on yourself now.” Adrian said and it worked just the smallest smile out of me as I paced the room; unsure of my next action. “Look, if no one came and spoke to ya; how in the hell were you suppose to be knowin’ what was goin’ on, brother? And we both know Mel’s a little trooper when it comes ta keepin’ secrets. She’d just be shittin’ bricks, thinkin’ the town was gonna jump back the way it was before.”

“Yeah, we’ve already had that little discussion.” I said, still angry with Fahrenheit regardless of her good or rather, selfish, intentions. I busied myself by picking up what loose papers I could find on the ground; placing them with the others on the nightstand. Could have been some indication amongst all this mess as to what Marowski’s next move might have been. I couldn’t find a trace of the photographs anywhere and I was starting to fear that he had taken them with him. One last act of spite; which would be not unlike the brattish oaf at all.

It was then I noticed that Adrian hadn’t touched Marowski’s bed. It stood square in the center of the room; sheets rumpled and the mattress filthy from having been slept on without a cover. I approached it, kneeling down and examining what I thought to be an unnatural looking buckle that was located in the lower most seam of the mattress; up near where Marowski’s head would have been resting during the night.

“Hey, BC. Help me flip this mattress up, would ya?” I asked, stepping up to the base of the bed. I didn’t much fancy touching any of Marowski’s filthy, no doubt skeet stained sheets but I had one last hunch I needed to play before pulling the plug on the search entirely.

Adrian took the top half of the mattress and together we hefted it up off of the bedframe and onto the floor, leaning it over until it could rest upright against the wall. My suspicions turned out to be right on the money; for there, wedged in tight against the steel frame, was a book. A big, fat scrapbook; probably about two to three inches thick. The sort of book that I _really_ didn’t care to put my bare hand to; given its close proximity to the bedside table and its various, assortment of self-interfering applications. But fuck it; that’s what soap’s for, I guess.

“What ya got there, boss?” Adrian asked, as I all but dove on the book; my sick feeling worsening by the moment. Because there ain’t no way a book that thick and that aged, contained nothing but pictures of Eve…

“One of Marowski’s fucked up little arts and crafts projects.” I hissed, parting the pages just enough to confirm that yes, the book did indeed contain photographs. Polaroids, specifically. I slammed the pages shut; clenching my teeth as fury welled up in me again.

“Come on. Let’s get what we can back to the Statehouse.” I said, turning and snatching the paperwork up off of the bedside table as I went. Adrian followed, scooping up a few odd pieces here and there. I was in such a state, that I almost left without the printout and Clair had to chase me into the street in order to deliver it to me. I thanked her and advised that she get in contact with the Watch right away if Marowski were to show up. She said that she would and actually remained long enough to give my arm the smallest, conciliatory rub before turning and heading back to the Hotel Rexford.

By the time Adrian and I had stepped inside of the Statehouse, I was a trembling mess. Shaking from a mixture of both anger and terror.

I did _not_ want to open that book. I did _not_ want to see Eve in the sort of state she must have been in when those photo’s had been taken. Hurt, scared, humiliated… Bloodied and beaten and… oh God…

_He fucked me up the ass for good measure-_

I knew I didn’t have a choice. The very fact that this book existed was in no small part due to my negligence. I owed it to Eve and all the other survivors to man up and deal with it. To protect them from further exploitation. Then I would take Eve’s photos and burn them right off the face of the earth.

Wouldn’t change what happened; no. But at least Marowski wouldn’t have that over her no more. Couldn’t use them to get off on, extort her, whatever.

Before heading upstairs, I asked Adrian to gather as many of the Neighborhood Watch as possible and have them wait for me in the foyer. Given what Meyer and I had discovered in Marowski’s office, I didn’t want to risk using the shortwave, just in case it was to be intercepted. Following this, I asked him to meet me in my office, where I headed with the book and the small amount of paperwork I held quashed in my sweaty palm.

I was tempted to pour myself a Scotch from the bottle Eve had bequeathed to me as a gift but stopped myself at the last moment. I didn’t want to associate this sweet gesture of hers with the pain that asshole was now causing us both. So instead, I took myself off to the communal fridge and got out a bottle of Bourbon; pouring a straight shot into a pair of near matching glasses. I set the scrapbook down on the coffee table; circling it like a mongrel dog eying off a wounded Brahmin. I sipped my Bourbon; all traces of the drink I’d imbibed earlier pretty much evaporated to steam within my boiling, curdling blood.

Where was I supposed to start with this shit? _How_ was I supposed to start? Based on the size of the book, it suggested that Eve was far from Marowski’s only victim. There were so many pages; far more than I had been expecting. The expectation of the dreaded chore I had ahead of me was staggering. Enough for me to finish my drink and pour another, not nearly numb enough to deal with what I knew I would soon after be witnessing.

 _What_ could I do about this? Establish some sort of… compensation scheme for the victims? And what sort of statute of limitations could I reasonably expect to enforce? Where did my accountability for Marowski’s crimes start? But then, why should victim’s in Vic’s time be excluded? Because they’d clearly received nothing in the way of compensation. I should know, I was one of them. Not of Marowski of course; he was just one of a number of predators that plied their trade in those dark times. His crimes may in fact have been _worse_ back then.

As Adrian entered the room, I passed him his drink and took a notepad and pen from the top drawer of my desk.

Right. Time to stop stalling. I would need to go through the book, page by page and make a list of all the individuals in there. And then, find the ones that I was able and get into contact with them. Whether they lived in Goodneighbor, or not. Speak with them. Do what I could. Give them options regarding finances, the reclamation of their photographs. Help them regain _some_ control.

“Boys are gatherin’ downstairs, boss.” Adrian said, placing his collection of shopping bags on the floor before examining the contents of his glass. He gestured towards the book with it. “Guessin’ whatever’s in there’s whack enough to warrant a stiff drink?”

“And then some.” I muttered, taking another gulp from my glass as I continued pacing the room. Procrastinating. “Cunt’s been taking photos of the girls. At least, some of them.”

I looked away, felt my throat clench and my eyes tear over. I was loathe to get emotional in front of one of the boys again, but if it had to be anyone, I was glad it was Adrian.

Naturally, he noticed my collapse of composure the second it began to tremble and moved to my side; clapping his huge hand to my shoulder and squeezing.

“Evie’s… in there. Isn’t she?”

My lack of response must have been answer enough. Adrian’s hand squeezed my shoulder again.

“Boss, you don’t gotta put yourself through this. I can… I mean, you can trust me ta be discreet about anythin’ I see-”

I ducked out from under his hand. “No. Just… need someone here, brother.” I reached out to clap a hand to his own shoulder; keeping my face turned away so that I could wipe at my eyes again. “I don’t…” I fought back a sob. “I don’t want anyone else ta see her like that… And I don’t think I can… wear it alone.”

Adrian nodded and returned a parting squeeze to my upper arm before swigging from his drink.

“A’right. Well, you just be tellin’ me whatever it is you be needin’ me ta do, boss. I’m here.”

I nodded, steeling myself as much as possible before sinking down into the sofa; the book resting on the table in front of me. Adrian perched himself opposite, leaning his elbows down on his knees and fanning the collar of his shirt against his chest; feeling the heat of the room, no doubt. Or else, he was as nervous as I was regarding what we might see in this innocuous looking book.

I decided to start from the back; where I figured I would find the most recent victims and work my way towards the front. I’d be more likely to recognize the recent survivors and I couldn’t simply rely on Marowski to have detailed all their information for me. Would have made life _too_ fucking easy.

I flipped to the page that had been most recently adorned and slugged from my drink again as I tried with all my might to focus on the face of the girl presented in the photo. I didn’t recognize her at all. Might have been a caravan hand, a guard, or some drifter simply visiting the town. She looked of ‘legal’ age, thank God. Though her age was about the only thing I could be thankful for; given the state that she was in.

She had been handcuffed to the bed in Marowski’s room in one photograph and appeared to be wearing nothing more than a blanket that he had draped over her in such a way that one breast was completely exposed and her groin was only barely covered. Out of the four photo’s that had been taken, _this_ was the most decent. The level of depravity only escalated the further along I got and it reached the point that I felt physically sickened by it.

As a young man, like most, I had come across pornography in my time. Mostly the old timey magazines, but occasionally you’ll get some distributor out from across the greater wider states of Once-America that sell more modern up to date stuff. Mainly from New Vegas; being the saucy sort of place that it is.

And like most men, I took pleasure from the images I saw. The women in them were nearly always nude, nearly always smiling and so far as appearances went; everything they were doing was consensual. Even the more extreme of poses didn’t seem to cause them any level of distress.

Now the girl in Marowski’s pictures didn’t appear especially pleased regarding her situation but she didn’t look frightened or angry either. Just sort of… bored, really. Quietly resigned. Perhaps this wasn’t the first time she had done this sort of thing. She didn’t look injured either; just posed in a variety of ways that clearly leaned towards Marowski’s favouring of bondage in regards to sex.

I lit up a cigarette and offered one to Adrian; hoping that he was aware that I was not smoking out of pleasure but more as a means to keep myself calm. Though I’m not certain the cigarette was the best idea; it sent my already churning stomach to further uncomfortable curdles but I was really more concerned with stabilizing my mind at that point in time.

Marowski had left notes as well and given the girl a score. Seven out of ten. There was also a name. Just one. Amanda. I jotted it down, along with the date that Marowski had recorded and noted a few distinguishing features that might help identify the girl faster. Such as her hair and eye color and the jagged light brown birthmark she possessed on her upper left thigh. This done, I flicked the page over; not wanting my eyes to inadvertently drift back to those more obscene photographs at the base of the page. I was feeling sicker by the moment.

And it only got worse from there.

It was Eve on the next page.

Marowski, had in fact, devoted _two_ whole pages to her. Though he had only taken three photographs from what I could see; he had written a whole hell of a lot. Making a sort of… series of diary entries, judging by the dates. Recording whenever she came to town; what she was doing, what she and _I_ were doing and how we were behaving towards one another. From the way he wrote, it sounded almost as though he was… jealous. Jealous and obsessed. Which seemed more than bizarre, given that he didn’t always write about her in a complimentary fashion. On more than a few occasions, I saw that he had referred to her as; _“the fat bitch”._ Ironic, given that he had scored her as ten out of ten.

I turned my eyes to the first paragraph. It read:

 _“Talk about a fucking_ score. _Turns out the big bitch that ambushed Trish and the rest of the crew, was_ this _hot piece. If that ain’t enough, words out that mayors get his eye on her. Well, I hope his fucking majesty enjoys chowing down on my sloppy seconds. Can’t even say what gets me off more; nailing the sorry slut or knowin’ I beat the smug son of a bitch to it. Made good and sure to get it up both ends of her. Thinkin’ if she can’t pay back the caps she owes me, might train the whore to start usin’ her mouth instead. I know a guy who could take most of her teeth out. Tried to bite me a few times, the fucking slag._

_Still, man what a rush. Never had to fight a girl hard as I did her. Might have gone a little far but fuck it. Doc’ll fix her up._

_Wish I’d thought to have a suck on those tits of hers. Ah well, plenty of time ta get round to that. With four thousand caps ta work off, I’m thinkin-_

I stopped reading. _Couldn’t_ read anymore. My whole body was trembling with fury and I turned away, sculling the last of my drink before turning with mounting trepidation, back to the book.

The pictures. _Oh_ the _pictures…_

Where the previous girl ‘Amanda’ had simply looked bored and resigned, Eve was clearly a whole other story. I tugged the photos off of the scrapbooks pages; a small struggle, given they were held in place with some sort of adhesive.

The first one was Eve; face black and blue, eyes radiating fury and fear as she lay on her back on the floor in Marowski’s office. She was wearing the shirt and winter jacket I had seen her in that very night but they had been tugged open to reveal her naked body; all the way down to her booted feet. She had been handcuffed to the leg of his desk. Her legs had been cranked open to reveal her vagina; her pubic hair matted with so much blood it was nearly unidentifiable. Her thighs were slathered in it. Her breasts were bruised with finger marks and her nipples looked swollen; as though he had either tugged or bitten them. No, he said he hadn’t had a chance to put his mouth to them. Must have just been groping her hard; making her hurt.

I glanced away, taking another drag from my cigarette and trying to remember if I had been gentle when I’d been handling Eve’s breasts earlier that afternoon. If I had inadvertently hurt her, would it have sped her mind back to that moment when Marowski had been pawing her all over? _Had_ she thought of Marowski when I’d started touching her?

No. She had been the one to initiate things, after all. She had always been the one who had tried to initiate things between us.

Could it have been… that she was trying to _forget?_ To quintessentially tape over her body with the touch and love of another man? Erase from her flesh the mark that Marowski had left behind?

She’d said as much; following our confrontation with the Ghouls at Wanderer’s Respite. _‘I just… wanted to feel the touch of someone who cares about me…’_

For all their want to try to protect her from what they might have gathered was further exploitation, Eve was smarter and perhaps more insightful regarding her situation than all our friends combined. Though vulnerable, she wasn’t innocent. And though kind, she wasn’t unselfish.

Perhaps it was she, that sought to use _me_ rather than the other way around? For I was quite certain that I had loved her long before she had fallen in love with me. No doubt she felt warm and safe and cared for with me. And this was more than enough to facilitate an emotional connection that would help obliterate the past memories of the evil man who had used and abused her. But I had seen myself with her, perched upon this very sofa with children curled around our ankles. Matching rings on our fingers and the one bed in which the two of us would spend our entire lives together. Watching over Goodneighbor. Making love to no one but each other.

My need was for her and her alone. Her need was tied intrinsically with her capacity to survive; both mentally and physically. At least, it had once been. I had no doubts now about her love. I could see it in her very eyes; her smile, from the second she had walked back into the town. But once, she had seen in me my desire for her and sought to use it as a means to relegate Marowski’s abuses to the past. She had been reminded of it; every time a predator had encroached upon us. The half mad Ghouls of Wanderer’s Respite. And the Wrangler’s of the _Rolling Ranch. That_ was when her passions flared and she would attempt, once more, to go to bed with me. And in each instance, I had sensed something… not quite right with the situation. And had refuted her.

Thank God for that. I must have been smarter at my base level than I truly realized. To recognize her vulnerability. Her desperation. And relegated to myself the role of supportive friend, rather than take advantage and storm the walls that had been buckling inside of her. For it was a true, steadfast love that she had required through all of this shit. Not a fast and easy fuck.

I gave my head a shake, wary of my thoughts drifting to far distant places with the support of the alcohol and tobacco and returned them to the page in front of me. The second picture was not so terrible as the first. It was a close up shot of Eve’s breast’s; something that I had seen myself less than two hours beforehand. These breasts however were bruised, swollen and looked as though they were leaking.

I took another puff from my cigarette. Of course. Her baby – Shaun – wasn’t even a year old to her when he was taken. She had complained during our journey of still producing milk – and had experienced lactating accidents up to a month after I had joined her on her journey. If Marowski had… well, of course they would have leaked.

I put my fist up to my forehead, fighting back the sobs that worked their way up through my throat once more. My darling… my poor darling. She must have been terrified. Embarrassed and humiliated. And so very aware of her son and the state of her body. He’d no right to have put his hands on her; not when she was suffering the way she was! She’d been so _miserable_ that night! So scared and so… helpless.

“Eve…” I whimpered, pressing the photograph to my forehead, pinching my eyes shut and trying to remember her for all her moments of strength in our time together. Her laughter, the brightness of her eyes, her determination to keep cooking and feeding us night after night after fucking _night._ She _never_ gave up; even with the weight of this awful heavy thing pressing down on her. She hadn’t fallen into a pit of Chems and helped herself to everything that crossed her path. She hadn’t rolled into the gutter and let the Radroach’s devour her. She’d simply placed one foot down before the other and continued walking on towards the distance; towards her son. And in the midst of all that; she had found the time and the strength, to have fallen in love with someone as flawed as me.

In all my life, I had never felt so proud and so aggrieved for any one person. Even Fahrenheit, who had spent a great deal of her life raped and abused could not inspire such admiration in me. For she had been darkened by her experiences. Made colder, less empathetic, less humorous. Eve, for all her suffering, could still smile. Still trudge on, still hold and love and cuddle the world to her. Mad as a hatter though the girl undoubtedly was, she was _my_ kind of madness. The beautiful, soft and sweet side of insanity.

How I loved her. How I _adored_ her. How her plight tore me apart from every slight angle that existed in the world. And how might I ever be worthy of someone who could swallow poison the way that she had been able to and grow more resilient on account of it?

I pulled the picture away from my forehead, tilted my eyes back and took another drag from my cigarette. I butted it out, sipped from my glass and with a shaky breath, flipped the photo’s over so that I might see the final and likely most horrendous of the shots Marowski had taken.

Not two seconds later, I flew up off of the sofa and barely made it to the bin before I was vomiting violently into it. The third photo… Oh god. Oh God in Heaven, _why?!_ How could anyone… _anyone… do_ this sort of thing to another human being? How?! Especially _her?_

He had taken a close up between her _legs._ Showing off the damage he had done to her; the blood and the semen leaking from her vagina and anus. Places I hadn’t yet seen in all the time I had travelled with her and an image I knew now I would never be able to unsee. Opened wide as a result of his cranking her legs apart; revealing the bruised, bleeding crevices. Hair slick and coagulated with the mixtures of fluids from both his body and hers. It looked so fucking painful… bringing back memories of my own assault in the same breath. But worse for her, because he had hurt her and degraded her in _both_ places. It looked as though he had taken a knife to her; the blood and damage was so severe. How she had been able to stand up the following day, I don’t know. I had seen it, because I had spoken to her. Flirted and queried as to why she was limping; why her face was bruised up and whatnot. And she had been so coy compared to the previous evening. Avoiding my gaze, rugged up to the nines and passing glances all about her as though frightened she might have been snuck up on…

I sobbed wretchedly, waiting until my stomach had finished turning over on itself before piling up the three photos in my hands. I started to tear at them; finding the process didn’t go as smoothly as I would have liked, given the plastic quality of the paper. I had to give a few good hard wrenches to get the things to tear down the middle and then, I wasn’t able to tear them a second time over. I had to do each individually. Adrian was beside me, clutching my shoulder; his own voice tearful as he watched me sob and fight with the horrible, evil mementos.

“I need… I need another… bin.” I urged him, wiping at my mouth as Adrian marched about the room; glancing about to see if he was able to fulfil my request. He eventually happened upon the can I kept by the door and he returned it to my side. I quickly yanked off the lid, dropped the remnants of the photographs inside and bundled paper about them. I added the pages from Marowski’s book; his observations about Eve and the terrible, perverse things he had written about her. I didn’t stop to think about what might have been on the previous page. Adrian had to grab it up and jot down a name and some information before I scrunched and returned it to the bin. And then I lit a match and set it to the kindling I’d created.

I’m not sure it was a smart thing to do. But it’s what _needed_ to be done. I didn’t need any proof to know that when I caught Marowski, I would kill him for what he had done. Because burning the photographs would not change the fact that what they had once captured would now and forever be burned into my mind.

“Ya stop here boss. Yeah?” Adrian urged, his large hand heavy on my shoulder as I watched the photos and papers burn away into ashes before my eyes. I moved the bin beneath one of the windows and opened it up so that the fumes could pass up and through into the sky beyond. I didn’t even want the stink of them lingering within the rooms. “I can go through the rest. You’d best be goin’ and findin’ that girl of yours. Thinkin’ that she be needin’ you right about now.” I felt the press of his fingers as he squeezed tight through my shirt, evoking my attention. “And you be needing her too. Nothing surer.”

It would have been so easy to have slipped away and left the remainder of this thankless task to Adrian. I yearned for Eve; so much so that my chest ached for it. I knew she would be worried for me, frightened of my feelings on the matter and waiting to see what had happened in regards to Marowski. I wanted to hold her, rock her in my arms and put to rest all the fear and loathing she was feeling inside. And a stranger feeling than that; the urgent need to place my hand between her legs and somehow… ease the pain from where she had been so grievously injured. It made no sense, given that the rape had occurred a year ago but the need to try to soothe and caress those damaged places was overwhelming. I wanted to gently rub, stroke and kiss her breasts; where those awful bruises and fingerprints had been pressed deep into her flesh. Cup my palm between her legs; cover her up and just… fix it.

A compulsion which lacked desire entirely. Not to suggest that the pictures had in any way diminished my passion for her. But _these_ were feelings of love, not lust.

This whole thing was fucked. Eve and I had been apart for a month after one whole year of travelling together and quintessentially living in one another’s pockets. We had fallen in love, professed that love and almost _made_ love that very afternoon. We were supposed to be having our first date in less than two hours’ time. This should have been times of laughter and happiness and with his vile act, Marowski had gone and shit all over it.

And worse still, I was _letting_ him. I had let my anger take control of my senses and consume what little of the day there was remaining to us. I had cared more for chasing after Marowski than I had for remaining by Eve’s side.

Little different to chasing after Deacon through the nursing home, the night he had walked in on the two of us about to kiss.

 _This is_ different. _I didn’t leave her alone; she had the girls with her. She was_ safe.

_Safe, maybe. But it’s not their arms that she needs around her right now. It’s yours. You ran off and left her a sobbing mess on the floor…_

I climbed to my feet, wiping at my eyes and then the side of my mouth. I went to the fridge and took out a bottle of purified water. I took a drink and swished it about the inside of my mouth; working out as much of the tacky, slimy feel the vomit had left behind as I could. I spat into the sink, watching as the smoke from the bin continued to slide out through the gap in the window. Sucked into the warm air of beyond. The fire certainly hadn’t helped the heat in the room any and both Adrian and myself had damn near sweated through our shirts. I waited until nothing of the photographs could be distinguished and then used some water from the bottle to put the small fire out.

“We’ll do a few pages each.” I stated, waving away the fumes of smoke that filtered out from the bin with my hand. “Take turns, swap it around when it gets too much for either of us.” I sighed and took another gulp from the water before setting it down and retrieving my Bourbon. “Let’s get this done as quick as possible. I need to go find Eve, make sure she’s doin’ all right.”

Adrian gave a slow, deep nod as he returned to the coffee table, stepping about it and sinking down into the spot I’d only just vacated. He tilted his head back, pressing the heel of each hand to his knees and took a long breath. Then he picked up the pen and focused his eyes on the newly revealed left hand page.

For the following fifteen minutes, Adrian and I took turns at reading from the dreadful book; noting down what names and dates we could find. There were only a few in-towners that I could see, so I assumed that Marowski preyed on visitors for the most part. There were more than a few familiar faces to be found, however and any number of perversions you could imagine. Some of the photo’s showed Marowski actually engaging in sex acts with the girls in the photo’s; aimed downward to show the connection between their bodies. It was repulsive, nothing surer but I took some small comfort in the fact that the majority of the girls had not been beaten to a bloody pulp such as Eve had been. Some possessed bruises on parts of their body; suggestive of Marowski’s rough nature during sex but hers had been by far the most confronting.

By 4:45pm, there were three pages remaining and Adrian volunteered to strike these off while I sank into the opposite sofa, fanning my face with my hat. I had been fighting the temptation to shoot up on Med-X and huff back on the Jet; get high enough so that all of this shit could get burned right outta my brain. It’s what I might have done in the past, but I didn’t want to puss out when it was obvious that all these girls hadn’t the option but to endure the horror that I was finding it so very difficult to look at. And I wanted to be clear headed for when I found Eve. Able in mind and body to be of support to her. I contented myself with the drink in my hand and a small rollie of Chark; breaking my own rule about smoking inside as I lay draped across the sofa; pulling back on the blunt and exhaling the fumes towards the ceiling. The ache in my chest had dulled somewhat and my mind didn’t seem to be buzzing quite so madly.

Adrian jotted down a name and date; the 10th of July 2279. The year following the coup. Marowski clearly hadn’t wasted any time in fear of being caught out. Ironically enough, we had even found pictures of the underage girl that I myself had caught him with all those years ago. I was surprised that he was bold enough to hang onto these.

But with only three pages to go, it suggested that Marowski had been engaging in this behaviour for the past ten years. The entirety of my reign as Mayor. Some feeble means of possessing power he didn’t have, maybe? Or had the guy always just been sick in the head and only gotten worse as he’d gotten older?

I was broken out of my thoughts by Adrian; who, having turned the next page, froze suddenly and drew in a short, sharp breath. He held the page suspended along the centre seam; his dark eyes awning wide and mouth gaping open slightly. I pulled myself back up into a sitting position; fear striking a mark through the comforting fog that had since draped itself over my brain.

“What is it?”

With a groan, Adrian released the page and then sank back into the sofa; bringing his hand up to rub beneath the bridge of his fedora.

“It’s… Meg, boss.”

I felt my own eyes dart apart at his words. Meg? As in _Meaghan Scalice?_ I stabbed out the rollie and reached across the table, swivelling the book about so that I could take a look inside.

Three pictures. Dated the month before the coup had occurred. Meaghan would have been roughly twenty-five at the time these pictures had been taken; the age she had been when her father had been killed. In one, she was completely naked and standing in what I supposed to be Marowski’s room with her hands above her head and tied at the wrists. A rope connected her to the ceiling and her body possessed a spattering of stripes; as though he had taken a belt to her.

Her expression suggested the discomfort from the pain she must have been feeling but much like the other girls, she didn’t appear particularly afraid. She looked… angry if anything. No… more like… annoyed. Hating the fact that she was resigned to this situation for whatever reason she had entered into it. Consensually, with any hope. She wasn’t crying in any of the photos, thank goodness. But in a way, it was just as terrible as it had been with Eve. Marowski had taken a photograph of himself inside of her. Meg had her face turned away and clearly wasn’t the least enjoying what was happening to her. I too, felt only a sense of horror coupled with deep embarrassment.

I turned away from the book, not wanting to see any more. This was my friend’s _wife,_ after all. Jesus, if Meyer had seen those pictures of Eve, I would have been mortified beyond belief. I needed to show him the same respect.

“Fuck…” I moaned, running both hands up over my head, my eyes and then eventually permitting them to rest beneath my chin, where they trembled like the earth as a Behemoth approached. _Meaghan… Jesus, I’d had no idea…_

“Ya think Fireman knows?” Adrian asked, his forehead pressed tight to the condensation soaked glass of Bourbon he held clutched in his large fingers. I couldn’t prevent the scoff that shot out from between my lips.

“Knowing Meyer like I do… ya reckon Marowski would still be runnin’ around in one piece?” I answered rhetorically, taking up my own glass and shooting back the few remaining droplets in the base. I wanted to top myself up again, but I didn’t dare. Not if I wanted to preserve some control in whatever circumstances were to follow. “He woulda fucking killed the bastard during the coup if he’d been in the know. Or done away with him since. Meyer ain’t exactly the type to concern himself with politics.”

_Something I envied._

Adrian groaned softly, leaning forward and setting his glass back down upon the table before sinking his forehead against the heels of his hands. His entire strong body looked set to collapse upon itself with the exhaustion wrought only through the witnessing of so much trauma.

“What are we gonna do, boss?” He queried, staring up at me with earnest eyes as I rose to my feet and paced the room with as much deliberation as my aching, creaking hip allowed. I found myself poised at one of the open windows; staring out over the town I thought I had known so well.

How many more secrets were out there being kept? How many more broken hearts, silent tears and curled figures, slumped hidden away behind closed doors; both mental and physical alike?

Meaghan was one of the strongest women I had ever known. She’d have to have been; to have tamed the heart of a man who had once, by his own admission, been perched upon the very doorstep of sociopathy; fist raised to knock.

Meyer had been one scary mother fucker when I’d first met him; that dangerous, suspicious guy that folks warned you to stay away from, lest he gut you just for looking at him the wrong way. Almost always to be found in the centre of whatever fight was occurring; responsible for starting the majority of them and for silencing the beating hearts of those unfortunate enough to have not dragged themselves away in time.

Sombre, but not opportunistic. He never stole from anyone, but was content enough it seemed to kill for money whenever he required it. Although, content would be the entirely wrong word to describe how Meyer had presented himself during those troubling times over a decade ago. He was… tired. Tired and over it all. It’s like he saw the world in empty shapes; void of soul and stripped of reason. He lived, I think, only because the part of him that was still Catholic couldn’t abide the notion of suicide. Ironic, considering that he was not above murder when it suited him.

But Meaghan had put a stop to all of that. In loving her, he had acquired that rationalization and reasoning that for him, seemed to justify his continued existence. All those empty shapes suddenly exploded with vibrancy and became full and ripe with beating hearts, pulsing veins and keening voices. With as much a right to mercy as he had been shown whence Meaghan had pulled her tight to him and pressed her kisses to his face and her heart into his hands.

He'd started taking the meds the doctor had prescribed; the tablets that helped to calm and abate the anger and anti-social impulses that pulsated through him. His sombreness became in turn a stillness and his cruelty gave way to a genuine feeling of contentment. None of us drifters could have ever fathomed that this once strange, isolated man would join us in the coup. That he would became something of a wise, father figure. Would wane and wax much as the moon and grow fat on delicious home cooked meals; prepared by one of Goodneighbor’s great beauties. A woman who had seen past the supposed thug we had all taken him for and passed into his possession, her very own hand in marriage.

I’d never seen him so happy as that day. This was a man truly in disbelief of his luck and forever questioning it at every turn. It had over a decade since he’d had a psychotic turn. He and Meaghan had been talking about adopting…

_He’d be happier not knowing._

It had done me no favours in seeing Eve’s photos. But then I asked myself; what right did I have to make that decision for Meyer? As Eve’s boyfriend, I felt I had a right to know that someone had used and abused her so dreadfully. Had taken such awful photographs of her for his own gratification. I was furious with Fahrenheit; for having kept such information secret, knowing what it was I felt for Eve. And I was cross with Eve as well; not for what Marowski had done to her but for her feeling the need to covet the act and suffer in silence. That she had continued to hurt _herself_ , when there had been no need to have done so.

A woman’s right to keep her own secrets closeted away… that’s something we take for granted. But what to say of the rights of the man who loves her? Especially if someone out there is using that secret to victimize our cherished ones? It offered up a strange feeling of entitlement; one that I felt very strongly applied to Meyer if anyone. He had been Meaghan’s loyal husband and protector for over a decade. His _Tesoro mio._

With this in mind, I slipped my hat back atop my head and turned to look over my shoulder at Adrian’s slumped, despondent figure.

“Go grab Meyer and bring him up here.”

Adrian stared at me in disbelief; stuttering a little as he dropped his glass back onto the table. It clanked loudly, rocked from side to side before tipping over and rolling towards the overhang. He managed to catch it just in the nick of time.

“Boss… he can’t… _you_ can’t be askin’ a man ta look at his _wife_ in a state like _that._ ”

“So it was all right for me to see Eve in such a state? Because I ain’t married to her?” I stated coolly, which seemed to halt Adrian’s protests square in their tracks. I waited a moment for him to deflate, for his shoulders to slouch down and his lips to press together before continuing. “You and I got no right to keep this shit from him. That’s his _wife_ , BC. That’s the woman he loves. Not up to us to make any judgments on his behalf or to decide what’s best for him.”

I whipped my hand towards the door; with as much enthusiasm as an old, tired cat swatting at a fly on a warm summers deck. Wondering all the while whether my words, though they sounded convincing, were in fact right at all. Was I about to seriously put my foot in it and nurse another shuddering regret for many years to come?

“So… bring him up here, eh?”

Adrian sighed, eyes flinching shut for a moment before, with a resigned nod, he clambered reluctantly up from the sofa. He paused; cracking his neck from side to side, stalling.

“Man’s gonna lose his goddamned mind again…” He muttered, brushing off his broad backside before making his tepid way towards the office door. I smiled humorlessly in his wake.

“If it half resembles the tantrum I threw in Marowski’s office? Then yeah. We’re in for a hell of a ride.” As an afterthought, I added: “Maybe, uh… take his axe off of him before he sits down.”

Adrian nodded again, all the grimmer as he opened the right hand side door and stepped out into the stairwell; tinted orange by the retiring sun. Jack and Robbie’s voices piped up; clearly curious as to what was going on but I heard Adrian shush them with a short, yet gentle reprimand.

I used the time wisely; storing away anything I thought might be turned into a dangerous projectile or bludgeoning implement. I poured another glass of Bourbon; of the mind that Meyer would be needing it once his first initial reaction tempered down into a sadder, more reposed state and placed it in the top drawer of my desk. Out of immediate reach for the time being.

Whilst I had the fridge propped open; I packed away Adrian’s bags of groceries, shoving them between shelves where I was able to find space. My stomach growled as the scent of meat wafted up from one of the bags; most likely whatever Adrian was planning on throwing onto his BBQ tonight. I couldn’t remember when last I had eaten something. Had I eaten breakfast that morning? Anything for lunch? I couldn’t recall… Only cigarettes, Chems and alcohol. Jesus, no wonder I’d gotten as drunk as I had with Eve earlier. I’d had nothing in my guts to soak up the beer.

I wondered if she would be feeling well enough to throw those burgers together? I should take over; prepare some food so that she didn’t have to worry. I wasn’t as good a cook as she was. Well… to call myself a cook in the first place was overly generous but maybe Adrian would lend me a hand if I asked nicely enough. Although, Eve was always one for burying herself in chores whenever she was feeling down-

My thoughts were interrupted by the door swinging open again and Adrian entered the room with Meyer following shortly behind. His axe was perched over his shoulder as usual and when Adrian attempted to, in a rather discreet manner, relieve him of it, Meyer twitched away from his hand and flashed him a reproachful look. Although he had been cool with me having snatched it off of him before, Meyer was protective over the improvised weapon and didn’t like other folks taking it out of his hand. Even someone he trusted as much as Adrian.

“I can handle my own shit, BC. _Grazzi._ ” He said, bringing both hands up to drape over the axe handle casually as he made his way towards the sitting area. He seemed as relaxed as always, so I gathered that Adrian hadn’t told him of the reason we had asked him up. “What’s the word, _Capo?_ ”

I’m sure my expression was one of great solemnity, as I stepped about the sofa; using my body to veil his direct line of sight to the book. I held out my hand towards him; palm up.

“Meyer, why don’t you just… hand me the axe now, brother?”

Now, Meyer might have acted the part of a two-bit thug at times but he was certainly far from stupid. His seemingly sleepy nature belied a sharp mind; kept mostly in reserves for those moments he meant to be of support to those he was close with. The sort of mind that would have been strides ahead of all the other kids when they’d been scrawling in chalk on the pavement and dribbling their liquid lunches all over their chins. And in all these long years of traversing the earth, he’d only grown the wiser for it. And this second, sad attempt on my part to strip him of his weapon, didn’t arouse his suspicions so much as spell the story out to him in its entirety. His blue eyes widened to the point that the wending branches of red veins were visible about his pupil and his jaw gaped for a moment before then, to my pure astonishment, his face crunched into a rictus of misery.

“No…” He whispered, his jaw trembling as he shook his head in disbelief. I’d never found it so hard to meet another person’s eyes but I didn’t dare look away. “No _Capo,_ please… don’t-don’t tell me…”

“Meyer…” I said, stalling as I reached out to him once more. My voice sounded a hell of a lot calmer and much more in control than I actually felt. “Just… hand me the axe and sit down.”

Meyer didn’t hand me the axe and I could hardly say I blamed him for it. Instead, he ducked away from my hand, striding purposefully about to the far side of the table. He near collapsed onto it, one hand pressed to the recently wiped surface. He spun the book about and stared down at the pictures; his lips twisting miserably, fingers bunching and flexing on the axe’s handle and skittering atop the tabletop. His expression I knew, must have been a matching pair for my own no less than a half hour earlier in Marowski’s office.

“ _Tesoro mio…_ ” He moaned, his trembling fingers tracing their errant path across the terrible photographs. His eyes, unblinking, took on a translucent sheen as tears fought their way to the surface. “No… no…”

His head sank back, eyes slammed shut as his unseeing vision was directed towards the ceiling. A sound came out of him; like a poisoned animal suffering the throes of its final, torturous moments. Not dissimilar to the sounds I myself must have been making earlier. A pain which came not from any physical application but from seeing the person you loved in such a horrendous state.

“No, no, _no_ – I thought I came back in _time._ ” He moaned, his hand slapping down over his eyes, which were streaming from beneath the crumpled brim of his hat. “I thought I came back in time – I thought I’d _saved_ her…”

Of course. When the nine of us had all been training out in the Wasteland readying for the rebellion, Meyer had received word that Meaghan’s father had been killed by a gaggling of Vic’s thugs. Knowing that she was a likely target, given her great beauty and the relative safety that she had enjoyed until that stage in her life, he had immediately left and returned to Goodneighbor. Not a _second_ had been wasted but Meaghan was either in a desperate place for money or protection, or both. And the trade-off had been her body and her dignity.

I knew full well what was going through Meyer’s mind. The god-awful visualizations you couldn’t _help_ but see. The _thought_ of Marowski touching his wife. Sucking on her, kissing her. _Fucking_ her.

Hurting her.

A mad oil versus water mixture of fury and grief was welling inside of him; vying for pride of place in the forefront of his mind, wrestling for control of his body and whatever actions might follow. A combination that never entirely blended through but roiled and wended around each other; competing in that confusing maelstrom.

Anger was of course what won out; which was more than to be expected, considering. Though I was relieved that it was Meyer’s fist that he brought to the table rather than the blade of his axe. He struck the hardwood surface, over and over and over again; causing everything resting atop it to jump in place with each assault. He was roaring now. Screaming that wordless, fathomless rage which ironically contained far the more for the words that it lacked.

He snatched at the pictures, huffing desperately as he pulled at them so hard he very nearly tore the pages clean out of the book itself. He dropped the axe onto the sofa in favour of tearing at the photographs with both hands; with an intensity even greater than that which had possessed me. Shreds of plastic sheathed paper rained down upon the floor like twisted snowflakes; carpeting his feet as well in the process. Amidst the screams he sobbed wretchedly, whimpering Meaghan’s name and words that I couldn’t understood for they were spoken in Italian. I felt as useless as tits on a bull; standing, casting only the occasional glance but for the most part, staring off in the other direction. Now I knew how he had felt when it had been _me_ railing off at the Hotel Rexford. Because what can ya possibly say to someone going through this sort of shit? _Nothing_ was going to make it better and it was trite to pretend otherwise.

Adrian used the opportunity to swoop down and attempt to snatch up Meyer’s axe whilst the other man was distracted. I say attempt, because he only got so close before Meyer’s furious eyes turned on him; seeming to almost throb and glow from within their sockets. The blue of his pupils had acquired a milky cast across the surface; a sure fire indication that the rotted portion of his mind was firing feralized impulses to the forefront. A bad sign. A _very_ bad fucking sign.

“Back the Hell _OFF,_ BC!” He yelled, turning and slamming his foot hard into Adrian’s midsection. Adrian grunted as he was shoved backward, air gusting out from the force of the strike. It was likely all the muscle had prevented him from taking the full impact of the kick, because I could see from Meyer’s posture that he had intended to put some venom into it. Little surprise, given that the side of him that was usually repressed by the meds was currently in control. That tiny portion of his brain that had rotted away; destroying facets of his self-control in the process.

Those few wending neural pathways that were in fact, feral.

“Knock it off, Meyer! Adrian ain’t the one you’re angry at!” I shouted, though for all the notice that was taken I might as well have saved my breath. Meyer was beyond the point of reasoning with and it wasn’t Adrian and Mayor Hancock that he was seeing at this moment; but bodies he could make scream and bleed if they continued to get in his way.

He snatched the axe up off of the sofa, holding it in his left hand as he jumped over the headrest; his gaze focused resolutely on the door.

“I’ll kill him…” He muttered, his voice taking on that horrible hint of madness I had been so concerned would surface. This was a trigger; one of those psychological things that Meaghan was always warning about. Something that circumvented the effects of the medication and allowed the feral to take hold. “I’ll _kill_ the fucker… I’ll cut him into _goddamned pieces!!_ ”

Adrian, recovering quickly for someone who had taken a full footed strike to the belly, moved to block his path. Which would be a frightening visage, given that you were anyone but Meyer. Adrian was three times larger than the other Ghoul and every last inch of him was hard muscle. He loomed like a Supermutant; his massive figure casting a shadow across the room, swallowing up most of Meyer beneath its awning.

His expression however, was one of compassion. As it nearly always was. In a fight, Meyer could be a hell of lot more vicious than Adrian and almost as strong, given the circumstances and or his state of mental health at the time. I wouldn’t have liked to put caps to who might have come out alive from a physical confrontation but a part of me suspected, horribly enough, that it wouldn’t be Adrian.

“Brother, I know you’re hurtin’ real bad right now and you ain’t thinkin’ straight… but I need ya to calm down.” Adrian urged, taking a few steps backward as Meyer continued to stomp towards him; eyes blazing from behind their cataract like film. If Adrian had thought this comment might calm the other man, he was sadly mistaken.

“What?! _WHAT_ do you think you _know_?!” Meyer roared, taking the axe handle now between both hands and ramming it up and hard towards Adrian. Not meaning to strike him, I think, but to put the fright on. Make him move out of the way. Adrian called the bluff and caught the middle of the weapon in his own hands; pushing it back and away from his body with an audible grunt. “How the hell would you know anything about it?! You ain’t married!! You ain’t got no girl this bastard coulda hurt! You’re talkin’ out your ass!! Now _GET OUTTA THE GODDAMN WAY!!_ ”

“So you can do what, exactly?!” Adrian shot back, twisting his arms in an attempt to push Meyer off of his feet and send him tumbling over the back of the couch. Meyer countered by twisting in the other direction; resulting in them playing some furious game of tug and war with the axe. They spun about the room with the implement like a couple of toddlers fighting over a doll. “We got no idea where Marowski _is,_ brother! Who you plannin’ on putting the hurt on if we can’t even find the asshole, eh?”

A nasty smile formed on Meyer’s tear streaked face. “Easy-peasy, _goomba._ Work over that patsy of his, Stan, ‘til the little bitch gives up the goods. Start cuttin’ off a bit at a time.” He gave a low, horrible laugh; one I hadn’t heard in so many years and thought had been lost to time. “You can be damned sure the boy’ll give up his boss quick smart once he loses a limb or two. Loyalty can’t bring back the flesh, can it? Now, get your big ass outta the way BC, or I’m gonna forget we’re buddies.”

And here, he pushed back so hard and fast against Adrian that neither he nor I could be capable of intervening in time. The axe handle jumped up, slammed into Adrian’s chin and rocked the big Ghoul’s head back. He cried out, blood leaping out from his lip from the force of the blow and then twisting his face off to the side as a secondary blow followed it; cracking cruelly against his right cheekbone. Meyer’s furious strength was starting to overcome his own and he was causing Adrian some major damage now.

If you’re wondering why it had taken me so long to react, it’s because the pair of them had been bouncing from one end of the office to the other as they had fought for control over the axe. And with my hip as bung as it was, I wasn’t having an easy time of trying to keep up with the two of them. (And I was perhaps a little tipsy from the Bourbon as well, which _really_ wasn’t helping things much). I’d spent the last five minutes circling back and forth around the sofas, trying to get around them in time to grab a hold of Meyer, only for the pair of them to go spinning out of reach again. And climbing over the top of the furniture was just too difficult; what with my hip the way it was, I couldn’t even stretch that far, let alone balance on one leg. A part of me was tempted to just throw the table at Meyer and be done with it.

But as the pair collided with the wall beside the computer desk, I managed to finally catch up; stepping about the table for likely the umpteenth time and dashing to their sides as they rotated about into the centre of the room again.

“Meyer! I know it’s fucking bullshit, but I need ya to calm _down_!” I stated, tightening my muscles before throwing both arms about Meyer’s shoulders and attempting to tug him backwards; away from Adrian’s bloodied, dripping face. Meyer grunted with annoyance and yelled, “Stay _OUT_ of it, _Capo!!”_ before lifting his right leg and shooting backwards towards me with the heel of his shoe. It struck me hard in my injured knee and I stumbled, screaming with pain as a loud ‘CRACK’ resounded throughout the room. The force of his strike toppled me over the arm of the sofa, which I rolled off of like a drunken old man before collapsing face first onto the coffee table; scattering its various contents all over the place. I lay there, preserved in a state of shock; making not but a peep but feeling a whole hell of a lot. Pain reverberated through my body; my leg screaming agony up and down the entire length of it. Slamming my hip before traversing back down to speed blistering splinters through each of my toes.

My mind went blank as the pain overwhelmed me; my hand hovering over my knee like a bird drifting idly along a wind tunnel. I remember thinking that Meyer must have knocked the cap loose, or, failing that, snapped some of the pins that Amari had placed in my shin.

Somewhere, beyond the pounding crescendo of agony, I could hear Meyer and Adrian continue to struggle and the repeated blows of the axe handle to flesh. I thought to myself, _‘Oh God, what if in his rage, he kills Adrian? All it would take is for Adrian to fall the wrong way… and the guy has a bad heart, coupled with his size it might be too much of a strain…’_

I had to get up; had to get between the two of them before irreparable damage was done. I tried pushing myself to my feet, but my right leg couldn’t take the weight of my body and rewarded me by thrusting knife blades of anguish into my knee. I clumsily fumbled my hand along it, feeling with my fingers to find that, yes, the cap felt loose all right. It seemed to be pushed off to the far left. A new injury to exacerbate my already pre-existing pain in the ass debilitation. Yay.

I didn’t allow myself time to think about it, but marshalled my courage and with a firm wrench, attempted to crack the cap back into place. Which was a stupid, _stupid_ idea because of course it didn’t fucking work and all I did was cause myself further injury. The pain was searing and I screamed out a duet to its cacophonous wailing; huffing air from between my teeth, eyes pinched shut as I waited long enough for the worst of it to pass.

In the midst of all this, I’d heard the doors banging open and Robbie’s voice join the fray. Being positioned right outside, he was first responder naturally and it was mere seconds later, Jack’s gravelly tone was filling the air as he made it around the stairwell and shovelled his way inside. I couldn’t hear what any of them were saying clearly; there was a shit load of combined yelling, squalling and scuffing of feet across the floor. The general consensus seemed to be that Meyer ‘calm down’, ‘stop it’ and ‘pull himself together’. None of which he seemed to be taking on board, given that the altercation was escalating quickly.

I looked up from the table as a flash of green light filled the room; not dissimilar to that set off by Eve’s Pip-Boy of a night time. Saw Jack, his gun still hanging from around his shoulders and one hand cupped firmly over Meyer’s eyes; pushing his hat back so as to have access to this portion of his face. Meyer had frozen and was no longer screaming; though his mouth continued to gape in a silent howl and his arms twitched and flexed against the handle of the axe.

The green glow which constituted Jack’s highly irradiated being was directed along the line of his arm and glaring out through channels in his skin so it appeared as though the sun itself was shining from within. His hairless brows were furrowed low over his blazing eyes; a study in concentration.

“I can fix it.” He said, his voice taking on that bizarre echo it resonated whenever he made use of his interred radiation. “Or I can burn your brain outta ya skull, brother. The more ya push back, the more rads I gotta drive into ya. Your choice.”

Of course. Jack was attempting to use his conduit of rads to fix Meyer’s unstable neural pathways. Radiation in moderate amounts was a warm, healing element to those of us who had become Ghoulified and that which was expunged from a Glowing One, possessed the additional bonus of actually healing us.

Too much concentrated energy however and it could quickly accelerate both the poised necrotic factor and the delicate membranes of the mind itself; fast tracking erosion and Brain Rot. The higher the brain rot, the closer a Ghoul came to becoming feral.

Meyer must have been resisting Jack’s attempts in some manner; pushing back so that Jack was in turn required in turn to amp it up and drive higher doses of radiation into Meyer’s head. Being a dab hand at controlling the radiation interred within his body, I imagined that Jack was directing this through Meyer’s tear ducts or nasal cavity, or some such thing. He’d found a way into Meyer’s brain however; such as he did whenever we suspected someone had been replaced in the town. Like a tiny hidden camera that he could snake inside and feather around until he came across the unnatural, pulsating component that was the trademark of all Synths.

“Let… _go of me… Jack…_ ” Meyer managed to hiss out, his voice becoming more guttural as the portion of his brain given over to the rot deteriorated further.

This was bad. Meyer either didn’t _want_ to calm down or he was in no reasonable state to even attempt to curb his adrenaline. We needed to bring it down fast so that Jack could get a foothold into his mind and start piling on those healing rads.

Biting back the agonising pain from my leg, I clambered up from the table as quickly as I could afford to; hopping my way towards the refrigerator. Inside, I kept a couple of syringes of Calm-X and I grabbed one of these out now; whipping the plastic cap off before preparing the needle. Having done so, I pinched the syringe between my teeth before turning back to check on the boys.

They had near destroyed the room in their struggle over the axe; having collided and knocked over most everything I thought would have been safe to have left alone in this situation. At least the computer had been spared destruction, though the same couldn’t be said for my poor, still recovering lower limb. And a rather nasty looking vase depicting a lurid scene of jungle bird life that I think had been bequeathed to me by an ex-girlfriend. Ah, probably a good thing, that one.

It was a terrible thing to behold. Meyer, though smaller than Adrian, was crazy strong; especially when he was in a rage such as this. I knew I would be no match for him whilst he remained in this heightened state. Short of shooting him that is and though I was angry for the shot to my leg, I knew enough of the man to understand that this was not who he usually was. All he was seeing right now, was the obstacles that stood between him and the person who had disrespected his wife.

Fortunately, this was not the first time I had been forced to chemically subdue someone. It had been a while sure and a process I would have been happy not to have repeated but I remembered the drill well enough. Much as I hated the idea of doing it, I knew that when he was in a state such as this, Meyer was a danger to both himself and to others.

“Get him to the wall, boys.” I instructed, using the countertop to support myself as I hopped towards them on my good leg. Adrian and Robbie managed to marshal their strength and with one determined thrust, drove Meyer up against the wall beside the sink; pressing the handle of the axe against his throat to pin him in place. Meyer screamed his frustration and lashed about like a trapped dog; trying to bite out at the people yanking on his collar. Jack struggled to keep his hand over his eyes, ceasing the flow of radiation until Meyer had calmed enough for it to be effective.

“PUT ME DOWN!!” He roared, his eyes glaring out at me furiously from between Jack’s fingers as I hopped closer. “You don’t get it! _None of you!! YOU DON’T FUCKING GET IT!!”_

“Got me something of an idea.” I replied humorlessly, using one hand to pin back the one that Meyer now lashed out towards me. With the other, I plucked the needle out from between my teeth and jabbed it into his neck; that sloping flesh of skin from where the neck became his shoulder. Meyer hissed furiously, head slammed back against the wall as I depressed the plunger; flooding his system with the strong sedative.

“Stop it, _Capo!_ No, _NO!!”_ He yelled, his angry screams dissolving into sobs as, with the piercing of the needle, he acknowledged that the fight had been lost. Jack pushed a burst of radiation out into Meyer’s brain; the intensity of the light beneath his palm increasing until, with a flash, the deed was done and he stepped back; wiping his tear stained hand on the leg of his pants. Meyer’s knees buckled as he sank forward against the axe handle and then Adrian was holding him steady with one arm; as the fellow Ghoul collapsed into an incomprehensible bellowing of tears.

“I want to kill him…” He moaned, his shoes dragging twin trails across the floor as Adrian pulled him over to perch upon the couch. He slumped back into it, the tranquilizer taking most of the strength out of his muscles. We moved the axe away and propped it up against the counter; content that Meyer wouldn’t attempt to retrieve it for the moment. Whilst there, I ran a cloth under some cold water, balled it up and tossed it to Adrian.

“Your lip.” I said, gesturing to my own as Adrian cottoned on and applied the mediocre salve to his face. He grunted and flinched from the resultant sting. “Doin’ okay, brother?”

He waved my concern away. “S’all good, boss. Know he didn’t mean none of it personal. Anger just ran away on him, is all.”

“Well, I can vouch for how that feels.” I concurred, glancing over at Meyer who reclined in the sofa like a person whose wrists and ankles might have been tied. He took long, deep breaths. Slower. His face had lost some of its tension. His eyes still screamed their suffering, however.

“Meg…” He whispered, his chest rising and falling so dramatically I had a passing concern as to whether he might have a heart attack. Guy was hardly a spring chicken, after all… “Marowski that… bastard he… he _fucked_ my wife, _Capo._ He _fucked_ her.”

“I know.” I said, wincing as pain raced back up through my leg. I took a moment to work my way past it, before limping my sad and sorry behind over to where I’d hidden the third glass of Bourbon. I took it out of the drawer and carried it to the sofa, easing myself down beside Meyer and helping him to sit up. I guided his fingers around the glass and watched him bring it, unsteadily, to his lips. He took two deep swallows; almost draining the thing in one go. “And when we catch him; we’ll kill the cocksucker. Nothin’ surer. Make him suffer good and hard for what he’s done to the girls.”

“And long.” Meyer said softly, catching my confused look and adding: “Like you said before, _Capo._ Make him suffer good and hard and _long._ Ain’t _no one_ gets away with doing that to my missus.” He gave me a meaningful look. “Or our Muncher _._ ”

I nodded, grateful for his understanding on the matter; now that he had calmed down. It was not a competition as to time spent with the woman that you loved. Meyer would win that one, hands down. He acknowledged my hurt, just as much as he acknowledged his own. And Eve’s and Meaghan’s. _All_ the girls and those who came to love them and learn of them and the horrible things they had experienced.

“We can’t let Marowski spurn us into fighting with one another.” I further established, taking out my little bag of Chark and dribbling some of the tobacco mixture into a rollie paper. I added a filter before licking the edges and twining the blunt together. I helped press it between Meyer’s lips before lighting the end of it; watching as he took a long, deep drag and then slowly exhaled. “Bastard just wins a little more we go down that path. There. You get that down ya and rest a moment. I’m just gonna check in with the boys.”

Meyer groaned softly, annoyed as he sank back further into the sofa’s cushions; pushing his hat down so that it covered his eyes. A classic gesture of shame on his part.

“BC… man, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean ta take out any a that shit on you.”

Adrian was, as always, merciful. “Don’t sweat it, brother.” He smirked and tapped a knuckle to his chin. “My jaw ain’t made of glass.”

I smirked as I hopped my way back over to where the rest of the group was lingering about the sink. Robbie cast a concerned glance in Meyer’s direction before leaning close to me and lowering his voice.

“What the hell set him off, boss?”

I looked over at Meyer, my lip curving sympathetically. “Let’s just say he’s got a score to settle with Marowski and leave it at that. You can ask him yourself later if ya like.”

Jack winced as he shook at his hand; easing some of the tingling and pins and needles like sensations that he reportedly experienced when ejecting radiation.

“Yuh. No thanks. Ain’t seen Fireman that outta control since the coup. I ain’t gonna go poking the Yaoi Gua, if ya know what I’m saying.”

“Heh. Probably wise. Now.” I held out my injured leg and gestured towards my knee. “Anyone know how ta pop a kneecap back in?”

Robbie gave a low, disturbed sounding chuckle as he backed away; raising both hands in a show of surrender.

“Sorry, boss. I was never much good at any of that first aid stuff.” He wrinkled his nose. “Especially that _gross_ First Aid stuff.”

“Although, this is more like your second, _third_ aid really.” Jack chuckled as he knelt to examine my leg; using his fingers to check where the kneecap was currently situated. He sighed and glanced up at me. “I can soak ya with some rads once the caps back in place. Add a Stimpak and that should fix any muscle damage. Reckon BC’ll need to help ya with the hard part though.”

Adrian moaned as he tossed the wash cloth back into the sink. “Oh gee, save the best for me, eh?” He flicked his finger towards me and then gestured to the benchtop; situated alongside the sink. “Fuckin’ hell. Right just… perch that tiny ass of yours up here on the counter, boss.”

I rolled my eyes, suspecting that not a one of them knew just what a chore that would have been for me even when I _hadn’t_ taken a direct hit to my bad leg. Since breaking my hip that month or so earlier, the once simplest of tasks had become a slog through Hell with a Super Mutant strapped to my back and Molerat’s biting at my ankles the whole way. I could barely muster up a trot at the sound of a gunshot and even sleeping was fraught with discomfort and constant aching throbs.

“Sure, I’ll get onto that.” I grumbled, pressing both hands down upon the bench top and then struggling about like a man dangling from a rapidly descending Vertibird as I attempted to haul myself into a seated position. Adrian groaned, appearing to register my sarcasm and with an unamused ‘For fucks sake – here you go’ grabbed me and hoisted me onto the countertop. I smiled in what I hoped was my closest approximation to angelic as he then knelt by my injured leg. He was so tall that even being seated on the counter, his face was level with my groin. Naturally, this struck a cord with Robbie and he chuckled from nearby.

“You know,” He said, not the least concerned with veiling his amusement. “I’ve suspected that the two of you would end up in this position at some point. Just didn’t think I’d be around to see it happen.”

I tilted my head back so I could see Robbie from the corner of my eyes and flashed a wink in his direction.

“And I suspect you’re projecting, Robbie but hey. No judgment.”

Adrian ignored the comments, more focused on dealing with my injury than joining in the banter. He took a firm hold of my boot and then gently eased my leg out as straight as he could before meeting resistance. Namely my hissing and banging a fist on the counter top. He relaxed the leg back to its bent position and shook his head.

“What I _should_ be doing, is going and fetching the doc.” He mused, biting at his lip as he stared at my leg with obvious concern. “Me bein’ as strong as I am, I’m probably gonna end up breaking your runty little leg clean off.”

“Cool.” I said, smiling as a means to try and assuage his own concerns regarding the matter. BC was probably the most serious out of the Watchmen and made it a point to always try and do things by the book where possible. Sometimes, such as in cases like this, it didn’t always serve him well. “Then I can get that sexy peg-leg look I always wanted. Be a matching set with Char.”

“Hey, how _is_ little Charlotte doing?” Robbie asked, smirking at me in a way I knew was purposefully meant to annoy me and shifting his eyebrows about provocatively. “She comin’ to town for X-mas?”

“Yeah. And if you go within half a mile of her, I’ll slit your throat while you’re sleeping.” I pointed to both Jack and Adrian as well; just to ensure they got the hint. “That goes for all ya’ll in the Watch.”

Jack tittered softly to himself as he leaned up against the sink and straightened his hat; which had been sitting slightly crooked from the earlier scruff. “Yeah, ya might wanna get that message to Pattie-boy, boss. Now the Muncher’s off the shelf, he’ll be looking for fresh prey.”

“Char can take care of herself. Had many years of practice fending that brat off. And I’ll be in for the telling off of my life if I go and keep her from getting _any_ cock when she’s in town.” I shrugged, knowing full well the sort of talk that would be levelled at me if I went around fending off every dick that came without half a mile of Charlotte. “Only reason she comes to visit.”

“Oh, apart from visiting with you, of course.” Adrian said kindly, having taken a hold of my boot and slowly attempting to extend my leg again. “Now Boss, ya gotta flex ya hip and get that thigh tight.” He gave the top of my thigh a slap; to show that the muscles were currently sitting loose. I made a soft, throaty ‘ooh’ at the back of my throat and hunched my shoulders in coyly.

“And what _else_ are you going to do to me, big boy?”

Adrian flashed me another unamused look; impatient with my jesting. “Throw you out the fucking window if you don’t start helping the cause! Right, I’m gonna try and straighten the leg now. Might take a few goes so just bite ya lip and tough it out.”

“Please.” I snorted, relaxing back as Adrian slowly started to raise my leg upward in an attempt to straighten it. “Ain’t like havin’ someone goin’ in dry on ya. And compared to the shit I’ve done in the past, this ain’t no- _Yaaah!!”_ My words broke apart into a scream of pain as agony shot through my body from my damaged knee and I raised my fist instinctively towards Adrian who, in spite of his massive size, ducked away from it. I hissed from between my teeth, fighting back the lashes of pain as though I were in the midst of giving birth. “Christ _almighty_!”

“Well, I fuckin’ told ya!” Adrian grumbled, sliding back in once he saw that I had returned my fist to the counter top. He took a hold of my boot again. “Ya want I be grabbin’ ya some Med-X, help deal with the pain?”

I shook my head firmly, a little impressed that a ‘hell yes’ wasn’t my immediate, learned response to being offered Chems.

“Nah. Already had a few drinks and… I don’t… I want to try and keep sharp. For when I see Eve next.” I ignored the equally shocked and empathetic expressions the boys directed towards me and gestured once more to my leg. “Shit. I’ll be lucky to _keep_ the damn leg after the beating it’s taken this year. Just… keep workin’ on it, yeah?”

“So… what was it you was wanting to talk about boss?” Robbie asked as Adrian continued to leverage my leg up and down and I took my hat off and used the back of my hand to wipe bullet sized drops of sweat from my forehead. I groaned as I shut my eyes tight; more focused on dealing with the pain than with answering questions.

“In a minute. Wanna talk to all you guys in a group.” I gasped and loosed a muffled yell as Adrian eventually angled the leg just right and jerked upward, cracking the kneecap back into place. I took a moment to adjust to the feeling; exhaling slowly as I might have done when my lungs were swollen with Chark fumes. When I was certain the worst had passed, I added: “You can… head back downstairs ya want. Let the rest of ‘em know… I’ll be along in a minute.”

Robbie nodded and tipped the edge of his fedora lightly. “Right you are then.” He stated, bringing his gun up to rest against his shoulder before strolling out of the room with his remaining hand buried deep into the confines of his pocket. Adrian heaved himself back onto his feet, clearing the path for Jack to kneel down and concentrate some of his radiation into my knee. I couldn’t help thinking to myself that if Jack had been around when I’d broken my hip, then I’d still be out there with Eve right now. Not some near useless invalid who’d be lucky to even be able to thrust given the sorry condition of his body at the moment. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she loved me and valued our both friendship _and_ relationship, I’d be useless to her.

I sighed as the warmth of the Rads coursed through my leg; gently easing and softening the aches where they came across them. Like a hand rubbing the air bubbles from beneath a wall decal. Jack had been helping out with my recovery since I’d returned to town with the original injury. We were lucky to have someone like him; a certifiable weapon in Ghoul form and in the same breath, a healer for those of us who were also like him. Without him around, I’d never have come so far with my recovery. I’d be laid up most days; pumping Stimpak’s through my system to aid in the restoration of my torn muscles, tendons and broken bones. And if I’d be human; it would have been so much worse. Smooth skins don’t exactly respond well to radiation on any level. Being a Ghoul, ironically, is what permitted me to partake of this treatment. And get me up and moving again at an accelerated rate. A fact, I suppose, that I shouldn’t be taking for granted. I was lucky, really.

Adrian returned to my side and handed me a Stimpak that he had taken from the First Aid kit we now had nailed into the wall near the communal refrigerator. I took it from him and sighed, easing myself gently down off of the counter top and setting my feet to the floor.

“Thanks fella’s.” I said, giving my knee a little flex to see how tolerant it was. There was some pain but definitely not as bad as I’d been expecting. Stimpak would see to that, but I’d need to be injecting it into the knee and that would involve whipping my pants down. Something I’m sure the boys had seen before but probably weren’t keen to see again. “Might take myself into the bedroom to whack this bad boy in. Give me a couple of minutes, eh?”

Jack gave his usual friendly yet crooked smile and offered a short salute from the brim of his hat. “Gotcha boss. See you downstairs.” He said, picking up his own gun from nearby and tracing Robbie’s original path back out of the room. Before following along and heading towards the bedroom, I returned to the sofa, intending to check on Meyer. His eyes were a little glazed and he looked exhausted and… melancholy. But he was still slowly and methodically dragging on the Chark and sipping from his drink, so at least his god given motor functions were still intact.

“How ya doin’ brother?” I asked, a query which resulted in Meyer turning slowly, painfully to look up at me. The white cast had gone from his eyes, thank Christ but he looked about as zonked as he might have done if a Behemoth had just side swiped him out in the Wastes. One of his brows lifted humourlessly as he took another laborious drag from the blunt.

“‘Bout as well as you are, I reckon.” He murmured drowsily, his head lolling so that the back of his hat pushed the foremost brim down over his eyes as it came into contact with the sofa. I pushed it up and out of the way, using my hand to clasp to his shoulder and give it a supportive squeeze.

“Hey.” I said, waiting for him to make eye contact before continuing. “We’re gonna get him.”

It seemed like time was moving a little slower for Meyer at the moment because it was a few good seconds later that he nodded and offered up the delayed response of, “Damn straight.” I continued to smile, giving his arm a pat before then leaning in closer and lowering my voice.

“One question.”

His head bobbed into a position where he was able to take me into account. I wondered how much of me he was actually seeing clearly. If any. “ _Ci?”_

I gave him a long, no doubt admonishing sort of look. As though he were a child, having been caught out in some unsavoury activity but who still believed they had gotten away with it.

“You mean to hit me in my bad leg?”

When Meyer’s brain caught up to what I had asked, his expression morphed immediately to one of shame. Which was confirmation enough really but he gave me the respect of nodding his head and meeting my eyes. Acknowledging that, yes, regardless of his anger, it had been a cheap shot. I returned the nod, contemplating for little more than a second, before leaning back and whipping my elbow hard across Meyer’s jaw. It rocked pain down through my funny bone but there was no doubt it had hurt Meyer a hell of a lot more than it had me. He grunted in pain, teeth clenched and eyes pinched shut. He wore it like a man though; gingerly clutching his jaw and shifting it from side to side to ensure that it was still in place. The strike had split his lip on one side and he was red and raw on the cheek where my elbow had collected him.

Being in charge meant that sometimes you had to do things you didn’t always want to do. This was one of them. Much as I trusted Meyer, as good a friend as he was to me, he was still in my employ and that meant that he required the occasional conditioning. Lashing out at your boss was not in an employee’s best interests if he meant to retain said employment. Meyer knew as well as I did that I didn’t make exceptions and that he in turn served as an example to the other Watchmen and any individual in fact, who tried to have a go at me. If I was this willing to physically re-educate my own staff, well then, who’s to say _what_ I would do to the rest of the world?

“Take your medicine.” I said as I eased myself back up, rubbing at my throbbing elbow. Despite the pain he was in, I saw the smallest smile flash across Meyer’s swelling lips. His eyes looked a little sharper as well. Guess the blow had sobered him up some.

“Seems a small dose, given I coulda ruined _both_ your dates tonight.” He said, gesturing with his head towards Adrian as further clarification.

Adrian groaned, placing the cool cloth against his own swelling mouth. “Might have been a date. Don’t reckon a thick lip has helped my chances none, Fireman.”

“And I’ll be lucky if there’s any ‘hooray’ to go with these bung hips of mine.” I said, indicating what the ‘hooray’ would be by distributing a small pelvic thrust into the air. It did little for my confidence when I felt how stiff and sore the once age old gesture made me feel. “Thanks to _you_ , Munch’ll be lumped with all the hard work tonight. I’ll just have to lie there on the ground like a dead animal.”

“Doesn’t sound half-bad to me.” Adrian said, to which I responded with a small scoff.

“To each their own.” I added, clearly less than enthused by the prospect. I didn’t mind a woman being on top during sex but it had been a long time since that had been the case. And for my first time with Eve I knew I’d be so pent up I’d just wanna throw her down, slide between her legs and rail her against whatever the hell we’d find ourselves on. All that passion required an outlet and I wanted to move against her; thrust hard and deep and hold her hips and lift her legs and, for lack of a better word, dominate the fuck out of her. I wouldn’t have minded the idea of Eve being on top in any other circumstance. But for the first time… _God_ I just wanted to cut _loose_. It was difficult when the woman was on top; hard to time your thrusts with the movement of her own body. And it put the girl in charge and they often couldn’t move as fast as it took for me to reach climax.

I drifted away from my thoughts, reminding myself not to be so negative. I was lucky that _any_ woman wanted to sit on my dick, let along the one I was crazy about. Besides, it wasn’t like I was a fucking invalid. I still had all my arms and legs. I would look to it as an opportunity; to test my… creativity.

Meyer _did_ genuinely look remorseful for the harm he had done however and uttered a heart felt ‘Sorry’ as he dragged from his rollie again. I waved the apology away with as much ease as I did the smoke he exhumed from between his inflamed lips.

“I don’t blame ya for bein’ angry. But you try a cheap shot like that again, you’ll need Doc Amari to come and extract my boot from your ass.” I gave him one last serious look. “Ya feel me?”

He nodded, giving me a slight, understanding smile. “I feel ya, _Capo._ ”

“Cool.” I gestured towards Adrian with my head. “BC? Help Meyer downstairs when he’s ready. Just gonna whack this in me leg.” As I started for the door I remembered one last thing and turned, snapping my fingers in the other Ghoul’s direction. “Oh and your uh, groceries are in the fridge.”

Adrian nodded. “Ah, I’ll have to break ‘em up. Some are Evie’s for the dinner she’s makin’ you tonight.”

“Oh, bless her. Right, see you downstairs.” I said, stepping out through the office doors and dragging my bung leg around the stairwell bannister until I made it back into the bedroom. I stepped inside, swinging the doors shut behind me and then working to untie my sash from around my hips.

My eyes naturally strayed over towards the bed. I was surprised to see that Eve hadn’t made it before leaving. An irregularity in her usual OCD like fashion of dealing with things. Maybe she herself had been just as distracted as I had been upon leaving the room after our little… session.

I started at the rumpled doona; at the decorative blanket still lying on the floor where I had earlier tossed it. Thought back to that glorious… hour we had spent together? Or had it only been half an hour? God knows. Hadn’t been long enough, far as I was concerned. Our skin all slippery and shiny with sweat, hands roaming everywhere, touching and caressing, kissing and biting and sucking… _God in Heaven…_

I remembered her mouth on me. Her tongue and lips and spit. So hot. So tight and so _wet._ A soft moan came out of me as I loosed my sash and let it drop to the floor around my feet. I undid the buttons and the zip in my pants and pulled them down until the top of my boots inhibited their progress.

Little surprise to find I had the beginnings of an erection. Just goes to show. Not even Marowski’s perverse pictures could ruin the desire I had for Eve. Which was a welcome relief because a part of me was concerned that the memories of the photos would become intrusive. That they would leap to the forefront of my mind when Eve and were being intimate with one another.

There was no better proof than this. Nothing could ruin what I felt for this woman. Though I hated and despaired at what had been done to her, it proved no distraction in my ever present desire to make love to her. Even knowing what Marowski had done to her. That he had been inside of her, had _come_ inside of her. All it did, was make me want to tape over it; to inscribe within her my own testament of love and desire. Place my own mark on the walls within her body; overlap and diminish and drown whatever Marowski thought he might have left behind.

A little voice piped up momentarily in my mind; suggesting that I use the opportunity to touch myself. The memory of what Eve and I had done was so fucking hot, it was hard to resist the temptation but I managed. There was shit to get done; I didn’t have the time or luxury to stand there, jerking off over some rumpled sheets and a selection of still fresh memories. Eve and I would have all night to make new memories. And it would sure as hell feel a lot better than treating myself to some sad, solo performance.

And so I ignored all those unhelpful impulses, steered away from my budding erection and carefully injected the Stimpak into my damaged knee. The effect was fast, as was the norm and the feeling of relief incredible. In less than a minute, most of the original yet impacted function had been restored and I was able to bend it and walk now without dragging it behind me like a dead tree branch. I pulled my pants back up, retied my sash and took a moment to quickly pull the bed back together; wanting it at least a little presentable for when Eve and I returned later that night.

I muddled over in my head what my next move was. I often went on the fly when it came to talking the boys up, but I wasn’t so sure that playing it by ear was going to work especially well in these circumstances. Perhaps I should write a few thoughts down, see how they sounded when spelt out on paper? I glanced about, lighting on the note I had left for Eve after our nap together and went to pick it up; intending to use the back of it. But then I noticed that Eve had already done so.

I read her return letter to me; feeling a warm glow burgeon in my chest at her words. What a darling. And how charitable in her forgiveness; especially after I had made those jokes about taking pictures of her tits.

I groaned, pressing my hand over my eyes. It had only been a joke of course. Just a joke; one of the many silly yet sexual ones we might have made even as friends. I’d had no idea of course that Marowski had done this self-same thing to her over a year ago. If I had of _course_ I wouldn’t be so tactless as to have written it down on paper.

Eve must have thought I was the biggest schmuck for that. At the very least, it must have reminded her of the rape and upset her.

I hadn’t of known. It was Marowski. He had tainted _so_ many things with his vile behavior. Taken so much away from _all_ of us. Almost cost Meyer his mind. Damn near destroyed Eve; mentally and physically. Humiliated Meaghan and many more women aside.

I put the paper down; knowing now that I didn’t need to practice anything. Didn’t need to write a word down to know what I would say. What _needed_ saying. I left the room; stoic and reserved and I descended the stairwell to where the milling throng of displaced Neighborhood Watch were waiting. Jack and Robbie remained on the upper floor, arms braced against the railing as they peered down; watching as I situated myself on the second step.

The Watchmen all stared at me; quietly expectant and curious. Like kids on a somewhat interesting field trip. I paused a moment; whetting my lips and using the time to gather my thoughts. I let the images of the poor tortured women in Marowski’s scrap book run through my mind; let the anger grow and undulate and further hike my feelings of righteousness and desire for vengeance. As one last point, I thought briefly on Eve’s pictures and the words fell together so succinctly upon my tongue that I couldn’t have done it better had I taken days in advance to prepare myself.

“Marowski…” I said. “Is an informant for the Institute.”

Various mumblings rose from the group of men in front of me; each face flashing either a look of shock or immediate outrage at my words. God bless them for their loyalty these boys, for not a one of them discredited me with an expression of uncertainty. They respected and trusted in me enough that they knew I was feeding them the truth. I gave them a moment to settle once more before continuing, using the railing to keep my hand occupied. I clenched it between the fist that I had formed of my right hand.

“What’s more; it’s come to my attention that this lying piece of shit has been dealing Chems to person’s outside of Goodneighbor and pocketing the proceeds for himself. Contributing nothing to the town coughers and the people living here.” I paused again, giving them a chance to absorb this new information before adding the final layer in this very unappetizing sandwich. “And if that’s not enough, I have evidence now, which proves behind doubt that Marowski has been exploiting… and _raping_ women. That evidence, comes from both victim statements and in photographs that Marowski himself took.”

The Watch naturally reacted with disgust at my words; faces puckering and flinching in, voices angrily awning and hissing and yelling their discontent.

“ _Which_ women?!” Ryan yelled and it warmed me for some reason to hear him so concerned. Being a gay man, it wasn’t as though any of the women involved would have been loved by him in a romantic sense. But he was great friends with most everyone in the town and was especially soft and nurturing towards the women folk; perhaps because he too knew what it was like to be a victim of men. And from one look at his face and his comprehension of my own expression, I think it became all to clear, not only to him, that at least one of the women was the one who I myself loved most of all. The look of fury that exploded across his face was evidence enough. Pattie read it for what it was first hand and turned towards me, shaking his head miserably.

“Jesus, boss.” He said, reaching up to grip his fingers to the lines of his hair. “He attacked Munch, didn’t he? He _fucking attacked Munch!”_

I must have underestimated just how fond of Eve the Watch had grown in the time we had all known her. I suppose they saw that she made me happy and this might have been enough to win their approval on its own. But she had always been kind to them in turn and was a friendly, available ear to which they could turn when they felt they were unable to speak to one another. Being a predominately all-male crew, it wasn’t easy to have soft conversations and risk getting laughed at or thought lesser of. Eve had always made a point of speaking with the Watch when she came to town and I’d seen her on more than one occasion, listening intently to the likes of Ryan, Jack and even Pattie as they exposited on about any number of woes or feelings they were having.

Like me, this must have endeared her to them. And now, as my girlfriend, she wasn’t just a good hearted dame but a certified part of this town. One of us. And if Goodneighbor did one thing well, it was that we protected our own. _That_ was why their response was so personal. Quite unbeknownst to me, the boys had taken her in and made her a pillar of the town. Someone they would fight tooth and nail to protect. Someone to whom they would bare and gnash their teeth and chamber their rounds. It was enough to want to bring tears to my eyes, to see how truly they had accepted her but I fought the impulse back. Cry later. Much, much later. Stay focused.

“I’ll say this much,” I choked out, which again only affirmed what the boys suspected and I could almost feel the air throbbing with their anger. “ _Some_ are citizens of Goodneighbor, some are outsiders.” I thought of Meaghan and Eve. “Too many, are people that we know. All of whom are victims. _All_ of whom are just as important as the next.” I drummed my fingers on the bannister; casting a glance behind me to where Adrian and Meyer sat perched in the center of the stairwell. Meyer’s head hung low, his hands draping from the peak of each knee like tendrils suspended upon the branches of a swamp tree. Adrian was rubbing his broad hand in circles on his back, another indication who one of these women might have been. Ryan had already slipped around to the side of the stairwell and reached through the rails to take the hand of his fellow enforcer; an act that only he was able to get away with. Not simply because he was homosexual but because he had been Meyer’s partner for so many years and they both shared an unrivalled and deeply personal respect for each other. They spent the most time in one another’s company and so it was Ryan, most of all, who knew the most about him. No doubt knew Meaghan the most as well and would have been hurting for the two of them as much as he was no doubt hurting for me.

“I’m here, brother.” He said and this of all things must have proved too much for Meyer, because he dissolved into sobs again; gripping Ryan’s hand so tight I had little doubt he would impact the circulation. I had to wipe my own eyes before turning back to the other Watchmen; my own heart wracked with pain. I wanted to cry and scream for Meyer. For myself. For Meaghan and for Eve and for everyone who had ever known what it was to be stripped of control, humiliated and fucked. There was nothing I had ever experienced in my life such as this. This… awful, incomparable _pain._ This _anguish._

“Marowski’s on the run.” I finally managed, pausing just long enough to clear my throat. It was croakier than usual. “From this point on, he’s a wanted man. Public Enemy Number One. I know this makes life difficult fella’s, considering the security measures we need to keep in place for the fete but make no mistake, this asshole’s capture is priority. So long as it doesn’t interfere directly with the fete itself, or disturb or harm the visitors to the town.” I felt my anger spike and I brought my fist down hard against the bannister, rocking the entire thing so hard in its foundations that it must have reverberated all the way up to the second floor landing. “I want this bastard _FOUND!!_ By _any_ means possible!! Whatever hole he crawls into, you pull the pin and throw a fucking grenade down there! Drag him out in _pieces_ , kicking and screaming if you have to!!”

“He’s probably headed outta town, boss.” Pattie stated grudgingly as he pulled his fedora back over his head. I knew he didn’t like what he was saying, given the wall of tears passing over his eyes but it was a conversation he knew we needed to have. “Guy could be halfway to Covenant by now, hauling his fuckin’ caps along for the ride.”

I nodded, acknowledging his point. Knowing that I was asking a lot, especially around the Christmas season when we all ought to have been enjoying ourselves and our loved ones. Wasn’t no one who wanted to be sent outta town on a wild goose chase. And they likely wouldn’t be; not if the second part of my plan rolled out smoothly.

“It ain’t gonna be easy; I don’t doubt it.” I gave the gathered assembly a firm, pointed expression. “That’s why, we need to be smart about this. Smart and fast and _discreet._ This town is _rife_ with Triggermen; all of 'em most likely loyal to the Marowski family. We go about this wrong and we risk inciting another Civil War. Now I don’t want that any day of the week, let alone when the town is overflowin’ with workmen, guests and every lollygagger from here to New Vegas.” I held up a cautionary finger. “So, what I’m askin’ from each of you boys is this: Take the Triggermen _out_ of the equation.”

Carmine turned his head and raised a brow at me sceptically; dragging back on his lip with one of his sharp, silver teeth. “You… want us to… _discretely_ take a whole bunch of Triggermen out, boss?”

I felt my eyes roll of their own volition and quickly stopped them in their tracks. No point putting the boys off by treating them like they were stupid. “I’m not talkin’ about _shootin’_ the goddamn cocksuckers dead in the street, brother. I want the bastards placed under arrest and their shifty asses transported down to the holdin’ cell in the basement. Jack?” I tilted my head back so I could see Jack’s glowing face staring down at me from the floor above. “I want you to question every one of ‘em. Use your tricks where you gotta.” I gestured now to Robbie, who mirrored his pose on the other side of the stairwell. “Rob? You and whoever else is following on from your shifts on the second floor are officially reassigned to street detail. We’ll keep the ground floor rotation the same but I don’t need anyone upstairs. There ain’t no access. One of you guys on the ground floor can just do a walk around during the night, work that out amongst yourselves.” I lowered my gaze and twisted so I could take in the few of the boys situated behind me. “BC, Ryan? I want you boys heading the round up. Until you clock off tonight, bring in as many of those bastards as you can. Whoever’s on street sweep after you, same job.”

“What about me, boss?” Pattie asked, trying to sound nonchalant as he spun both handguns around on his index fingers by the trigger nook. The little manoeuvre was of course purely to demonstrate that he was as equally skilled as the others. Was he really so insecure still, after all these years of proving otherwise? “I mean, I’m not just a pretty face, ya know.”

I gave him a smile, hoping to assuage whatever doubts he might have been experiencing. “Too right brother. You got somethin’ that a lotta fella’s here don’t and that’s the ability to pull a crowd. That’s why I want that pretty face on distraction duty.” I offered him a quick, supportive wink. “You’re a little fucking show pony, so you’ll be able to keep folks engaged when all this other shit’s goin’ down. The Triggermen put up a fight; it’s gonna get loud and scare a lot of folks. We don’t want that. So do what you do best and strut your stuff. Keep ‘em engaged, distracted from what’s goin’ on.”

I knew that Pattie had liked hearing this because he offered up a grin before spinning both handguns back in the opposite direction and smoothly sheathing them in his matching hip holsters.

“Gotcha. I’ll keep the kiddies entertained.”

“Just a suggestion,” Ryan called from somewhere over my shoulder. “But you can always just come out Irish dancin’ ya wanna turn some folks heads. You know. ‘Lord of the Crabs’ has a nice ring to it.”

This naturally evoked a laugh from the rest of the Watchmen and set Pattie to sighing and rolling his eyes. Poor guy. Ten years had passed and he _still_ got more shit than the rest of us combined. Lucky for him that he had learned to roll with it at some point. Though it might have explained why he was still so insecure about some matters.

“Ha. Yeah, that’s funny.” Pattie said, twining his arms about before then rolling his body in a wave like motion; as though he were emulating the sea on a choppy day. “Just so you know that my mad Irish dance skills shake _all_ the crabs loose. Ain’t no venereal diseases holdin’ this brother down.”

Amidst the laughter that this statement wrought, I felt someone tap the back of my arm and turned to see Meyer staring, still hazy eyed up at me from the stairwell. His eyes held such intensity, I could just about feel his gaze pierce through me. Thous his face remained almost entirely shadowed by the brim of his hat.

“ _Capo,_ ya gotta let me run detail at some point.”

I set my hands on my hips, giving a small shake of my head. Not disagreeing right out but not at all convinced that there was merit to allowing such a thing.

“Given… recent circumstances, I’m not certain that’s a good ide-”

“That’s _exactly_ why I gotta be involved!” Meyer yelled, eyes tearing over as he yanked his hand out of Ryan’s and struggled ungainly to his feet. I had to reach out and steady him, so that he didn’t end up flipping himself headfirst down the stairwell. “I can’t just sit back while the bastard who… who did this…” He took a deep breath to calm himself; perhaps afraid of admitting the reality out loud so that others could be convinced for certain. “I gotta be doing something, ya know? He has to _pay._ ”

I paused for a moment, understanding where he was coming from but more concerned that his mental health might not be up for such a thing. Meyer was capable of great acts of cruelty when he was angry. As were we all, I suppose. The difference between someone like myself and Meyer however, is that I would run around the random person who might have been idly standing in the way of the asshole I wanted to get my hands on. Meyer would simply cleave through the poor unfortunate; given what state his mind was in at the time. He was a fucking juggernaut and key to maintaining order within the town itself; someone without whom I probably would not have won the coup. The very reason he was an enforcer was because he had the capacity for extreme ruthlessness. And could I really afford to let someone like this off of the choke chain; given how dangerous he was ordinarily and how intensely personal this situation was in comparison?

It was one of the reason’s _I_ was taking a step back tonight. I wanted to deal with Marowski, nothing surer. But I sure as shit didn’t trust myself to keep a level head when the news of Eve’s assault was still fresh in my mind. I had to put that into perspective. How could I possibly be reasonable and make smart decisions when my emotions were as tumultuous as they were? Eve was more entitled to my time than Marowski was. She needed me at her side. And surely, the same could be said of Meaghan, right?

I rested my hand on Meyer’s shoulder, leaning closer and lowering my voice so that the rest of the fella’s weren’t in on the conversation.

“You sure it ain’t gonna be too much, brother? You gonna keep it together as best ya can?”

Meyer clenched his jaw tight; his blue eyes blazing like burning coals in his skull. “I’m not gonna lie and pretend I ain’t angry. Pretend like I ain’t gonna hurt some of the cunts. But I’ll keep ‘em alive. And you know that next to Jack; _I_ can get us the information we need.” His lips slid slowly into a knowing, suggestive smile. “Nothin’ surer.”

Well, there was no arguing with that. He was perhaps the only person in all of Goodneighbor who could extract information from a body just as well as Jack and myself. With slightly more insidious methods. And to be honest, it was kind of hard to concern myself with the lousy Triggermen he was most likely going to put the hurt on. We needed to find Marowski before he did more damage. On an even larger scale than he already had. And Meyer was most likely to extract the information we required.

With this in mind, I hefted a sigh and gave him a firm look. “Fine. You can put yourself to work both on the street and in conjunction with Jack at the cells.” I held up a cautionary finger. “But, starting _tomorrow_!” I clapped my hand to his back again. “For tonight; just be with your wife.”

Having said my piece to him, I turned back to the rest of the Neighbourhood Watch. I could only hope they understood where I was coming from regarding what I was about to say next and didn’t take it to mean I was turning tail and leaving them the dirty work.

“Which brings me to another point;” I said, making good and certain to look each of the men in the eyes, so that they were well aware that I was being honest and upfront with them. “Much as I wanna be out there kicking ass with all you degenerates, I’ll be clocking off for the rest of the night. Sorry if it seems like I’m punking out on you, but-”

“You don’t gotta explain, boss.” Adrian said, smiling and nodding amidst a sea of equally concurring and encouraging words. “I know.”

 _“We_ know.” Ryan corrected, reaching through the railing and squeezing a hold of my inside elbow. He flashed me an encouraging smile as I glanced over my shoulder at him. “We got this in hand, chief. You just take care of that girl of yours. Leave the skull bustin’ to the pro’s.”

I heard Robbie heft an uncertain laugh from up above. “Skull bustin’? Geez, been a long time since we’ve all gone to ground for anything like this, boys. I’m not even sure I remember how it goes anymore…”

“Yeah. We’ve all become old men since the coup.” Carmine stated, puffing out his stomach as further proof and curling the palm of his hand over the bulge. “I’ve gotten fat and lazy and set in my ways. I’ll probably pull a muscle if I try to puff my chest out.”

Pattie scoffed his offense. “Speak for yourselves, fella’s.” He grumbled, performing a quick running man dance move on the spot. “I ain’t some dribbling, blender fed geriatric like all a you.”

I held up a hand to cut them all off before an argument, however light hearted, could begin. “Hey, hey, _cool_ it. Now, I know it’s been a while since we all got our hackles up. I get it. Things have been nice and cool and lazy for too long.” I brought my hand back to perch atop my hip, my tone serious as I looked around at each of the faces assembled both below, behind and above me. “But don’t forget _who_ we are and _where_ we came from. _No one_ expected nothin’ of us back in the day. We were gutter scum; scrubbers. We had fucking _nothing;_ not even the comfort of knowin’ if we were gonna wake up the next day. Vic’s goons used and abused and extorted us at every turn. Beat us down. Stole our confidence, claimed stake to our bodies…” I paused for a moment, considered my next words carefully and then continued. “I’m sure most of you figured it out already but I think by saying it, it’ll make all the difference for what happens next.”

I took a deep breath, almost unconsciously. I had never spoken about what had happened with any of them. The last person I had divulged the information to had been Eve. Keeping it secreted away fed that lie I kept telling myself at some level; that it had never actually happened. But of course it had. And I needed to stop being ashamed of that. By fronting up with it, I might in turn encourage other survivors to come forward. I was asking a great deal of them to step on up and admit to what they had been forced to endure. They needed to understand that there was no ignorance or hypocrisy in my stance. That, like them, I was also a survivor.

I let the long breath go, looked towards the ceiling and watched as it blurred into several thousand pieces. Don’t cry. Not yet.

“Ten years ago… those two Wranglers Vic hired…” Looked down. Swallowed. Steadied my nerves. I was safe. I was in my home and I was _safe._ So, just _say it._ “They were called in to deal with _me._ ”

The boys just looked at me quietly. Perhaps not appreciating fully what ‘dealt with’ actually referred to. Or perhaps they understood all too well and were remaining silent as a means of granting me their full, undivided attention. Understanding that this was hard. That for someone like me, who had ruled this town based on an impression of being cool, unaffected and unswayed by it all, to confess to trauma’s of my past and the disquieting nightmares still wreathed about my mind and soul; was terrifying.

“Two bastards raped me.” I said, bringing my eyes up, sniffing and blinking my eyes to fight back the tears. The boys waited for me to continue. “Repeatedly. Beat the shit out of me to boot and shoved caps in my mouth. Rob knows, he’s the one found me afterward. Who done pulled the tape off of my mouth.”

“Ain’t never told no one a thing, boss.” Robbie called from the floor above and I held up a hand towards him; smiling as proof that I wasn’t having a go, nor had I ever suspected such a thing.

“I know, brother. Wouldn’t have bothered me, you did. I was the maker of my own misery.” I sighed, perching both hands on my hips and nodding to myself. Doing my best to just try and _deal_ with this shit. “Because I _was_ a whore. I didn’t care shit about anything; let alone myself. All I cared about was my next hit. But having that control taken away from me; having my _body_ used as a commodity from which I derived _nothing_ , _that’s_ what changed me. And I know I ain’t the only one who’s gone through this shit.” I waved my finger through the air; chastising unseen forces. “Those women Marowski abused… he took _pictures_ of them. He’s extorted some of them for years and years and _years._ Taken that control away, made us all look like fools.” I paused to let this sink in and added: “I _know_ what it’s like to have control taken away. … I _know._ And I refuse to stand by and let anyone under my watch feel that way again. It is _not_ going to happen.” I looked about at each of the boys in turn; saw nothing more than their empathy and respect. Their bristling, eager energy waiting to be unleashed. “We all came from the lowest of the low; little better than fuckin’ gum someone scraped off the bottom of someone’s shoe.” I held my arms out as a gesture to not only the walls around us but to the town that stood firm and strong beyond them. “But look how far we’ve all come! Eleven years ago, some badass mother fuckers jumped down from those rooftops and took _back_ this town from all those opportunistic, predatory sons of bitches and I _know_ those bad asses ain’t dead just yet. A little fatter round the middle maybe; a bit older and more interested in reading the _Publick Occurrences,_ but we ain’t done fucking shit up yet, boys.” My lips curled up into that familiar feeling smile of mine; that comfortable, dangerous smirk. “Once upon a time; the bad guys were afraid of _us_. Let’s remind ‘em _why._ ”

I liked to think I’d been suitably inspiring with that little speech but I still wasn’t prepared for how well it was received. The boys cheered, pumped their weapons and yelled out, ‘Of the people, _for_ the people!’ Pattie bounded forward and threw his arms around me; pounding my back so hard with his fists that it almost worked a burp out of me. It certainly didn’t help when Carmine joined in and I was forced to pry the pair off of me before they did some permanent damage to my spine. To say nothing of the fact that they were blubbering and dribbling snot all down my back.

Before the boys broke off to go on to their newly assigned duties, I held out my arm and called out for them to wait just a moment longer.

“Also; I want to know right away if any of you manage to get a hold of Trish.” I made what I gather was the sign of the telephone beside my ear. “I’ll have my walkie with me all night so buzz it in if you grab her. Got some personal beef with that one. Now, get on outta here and make a nuisance of yourselves. Go on.” As they started to disperse, I gestured to Adrian and added in a softer tone: “Just keep ‘em in line until knock off, brother. You got yourself a date to get to.”

“Ain’t no date.” Adrian said, smiling modestly. “Just folks over for grub is all.”

“Well, whatever it is; don’t let Marowski’s ruin it, yeah?” I clapped the back of my hand to his chest and groaned to see a familiar figure now step out from behind his massive form. Fahrenheit approached me; arms crossed in a fashion I found most unusual of her. Cautious. Doubtful.

I crossed my own arms; though my posture was anything but insecure. I could feel my eyelids feathering down to form a severe expression.

“I thought I told you to keep out of my sight?”

Fahrenheit offered a shrug; one which unfortunately made her look like some petulant teenager. Not at all helped by the puffy red bags about her eyes; evidence that she might have been crying at some point. Jesus… it had been over eleven years since I had last seen Fahrenheit cry. I’d forgotten entirely how it had looked. How it made her appear younger. More like the abused, traumatized girl I had once known fondly as ‘Melanie’.

“No pun intended but don’t cut off your nose to spite your face, Hancock.” She said, her voice and tone largely unchanged. She didn’t meet my eyes however and I think she was largely afraid to do so. “I know you’re still furious with me, but that doesn’t mean I still can’t be useful to you.”

I twisted my lips at her; unconvinced but willing to concede that she had a point. She was, after all, my bodyguard for a reason. But I wasn’t prepared to have her back on board just like that. Trust is a very hard thing to win back once it’s broken. Which is precisely why I placed so much importance on it.

“That depends.” I said, quirking my brow at her suspiciously. “On whether you have any vested interest in continuing to conceal things from me. Do you?”

Fahrenheit shrugged again; a feature that was starting to quickly irritate me. “All out in the open now, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is. And you should have had faith that I could have handled it appropriately.”

She flinched her eyes shut; looking so suddenly agonized that it sent a pang of regret straight to my heart. Too much time spent in Eve’s company; witnessing a woman’s tears and sadness time and time again. I’d gotten conditioned to it and further conditioned to a more loving and sympathetic response.

“I’m sorry.” She said, her eyes tearing over as she looked at me with earnest desperation. “You have no idea _how_ sorry.”

I was determined to remain firm on the point. “Not sorry enough. Not by far.”

Fahrenheit slapped the palm of her hand to her chest; beseeching. “Let me be of some use. You have all that paperwork from Marowski upstairs, right? I’ll go through it. Get you the info that you need.”

I considered this. Fahrenheit was unrivalled as a strategist and clearly knew what it was about when it came to putting two and two together. Just as Meyer was ever so proficient in extracting that information from an unwilling body, she was equally as adept at putting it together. She was quite right that I would be cutting off my ‘theoretical nose’ if I refused to acknowledge these points but it still bothered me to have to submit to it.

“Fine.” I said at last, unwinding my arms from across my chest and quirking up a finger from one of my now freed hands. “Compile whatever you think might be of use and have it ready for me to look at tomorrow. Also; I have two pages left in that horrible book of Marowski’s to go through. Take down the names of those girls. Add any information you know about any of them. Specifically, whether they are still alive and whether I am able to contact them.”

She nodded, looking a little relieved in spite of the fact her task was going to be a difficult one. “Will do.”

I felt I needed to make a point of confirming my stance.

“I’m not even close to forgiving you.”

I was surprised to see her smile at this; though there wasn’t the least shred of humor to be found in it. “You don’t need to forgive me. Loyalty and forgiveness don’t go hand in hand. I can be of use. Let my actions determine your future judgment. I don’t expect you to warm to me again anytime soon.”

The wisdom of her words and the acknowledgement of her loyalty stunned me a little. That she cared only to be of use and it didn’t come from some insecure need to be back in my good graces.

“It’s not that I don’t see where your intentions were coming from.” I conceded, scratching the back of my neck a little awkwardly. I’m not sure why her maturity in the matter made me feel somewhat ashamed. I had every right to be angry. Every right to hold her to account for her very poor decision making. “I just find it very difficult to believe that they weren’t influenced by your own fear and trauma. Things you ought to have communicated to me.”

She sighed as though I were being very short sighted. “It’s not that straight forward when you’re a woman, Hancock. Especially in a town like this. But I’m not going to make excuses for poor judgment.” She rolled her shoulder in an obvious gesture for me to go towards the door. “Go and… find her. And… tell her… tell her I’m sorry.”

“I’ll let her know you’re _remorseful._ Truth be told, I think the only person she blames is herself. Which is why I’m finding it so very hard to forgive you right now.” I turned and knelt down to take Meyer by the arm; helping heft him to his feet. “Come on, brother. Let’s go find the girls.”

“ _Ci._ ” He murmured drowsily, giving Fahrenheit a supportive pet to the shoulder as we stepped past her towards the street side door. “Talk to ya later, Betta.”

It was a long trek back to Meaghan’s shop; hindered all the more by my leg, the weight Meyer was putting on me and the fact that he was almost falling asleep every two seconds. It was no small feat but I managed to finally drag his somnolent ass there without attracting too much attention. The doors were shut, though the sign was still situated outside, so I assumed Meg hadn’t locked up for the day.

Sure enough, I was able to ease the right hand door open with my shoulder and practically heave myself and Meyer over the threshold. Meaghan’s assistant had perched herself behind the counter and she sat up with a beaming smile that slid quickly from her face when she realized that we weren’t potential customers. She gestured to the rear door of the shop with one deftly filed fingernail.

“They’re out back, Mayor Hancock.”

I nodded my thanks as I wrestled Meyer gradually over towards the rear of the shop, managing to loose one hand and swing open the door. The outdoor sitting area was little more than a small nook, nestled between the surrounding buildings. Meaghan had set up a picnic table that Rufus had repaired and painted for her and used this as a space to smoke and take her breaks from inside the store itself. Currently, Cait and Piper were perched upon various surfaces of the picnic table; each smoking a cigarette. Meaghan was pacing, flicking irately at what remained of her own smoke. She stopped when Meyer and I stepped out through the doorway; her eyes locking with her husbands for all of five seconds before she softly moaned and turned her gaze back towards the concrete floor.

“You saw them… didn’t you?”

Meyer eased himself out of my hold and stood up straight; teeth gnawing at the swollen edge of his lip. He seemed to be having an equally difficult time meeting Meg’s eyes as she had been with him.

“Yeah.”

She fought back tears; fingers poised tightly about the nub of cigarette. There was barely more than just the filter but she still refused to dispense with it. As though to forfeit the distraction would leave too great of a risk. Would leave her without some means of defence against the terrible tide of feelings washing back and forth between herself and Meyer.

“Do you hate me now?” She asked, tearfully. Cautiously. The look of disbelief in Meyer’s face was beyond compare.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He said, eyebrows cinching inward to form that age old expression so self-explanatory yet beyond definition. Of sadness, love and anger all rolled into one. “You’re my _wife._ Already hated ya as much as I possibly could. Ain’t nothing gonna make it much worse.”

Meaghan scoffed out a laugh, though she still made every effort not to meet Meyer’s eyes. Such a terrible legacy to be remanded to a person; this debilitating, crippling and entirely undeserved feeling of shame.

“I know I should have told you.” She said, pressing her lips together and looking down towards the ground. Fighting with the tears that had only just started to spill over her lower lashes. “I just… I knew you’d be disappointed in me. Going to that asshole for money. Lettin’ him do those… messed up things to me…”

Though it must have been an effort to so much as string two words together, let alone stand up straight, Meyer marshalled some distant reservoir of strength and made his way over to where his wife stood; shaking and sniffing. His palms pressed gently to each of her shoulders, turning her enough so that her face was angled towards him. Her eyes remained downcast, in spite of his best efforts to bring them into alignment with his own.

“Babe… don’t go down that path.” He said, lifting one hand to brush against the curve of her cheek. To smooth back the errant tangles of curly hair as they stretched across his path like the tendrils of vines. “I’m not disappointed. I don’t hate you.” He pulled her to him, wrapping her up in those self-same arms that possessed such intensity of strength they could cleave a man’s head from his neck. Pressed her in to the broad expanse of his chest; beyond which the beat of his heart must have continued to leap a thousand miles a minute.”How could I possibly hate you? You’d just lost your old man. For all you knew, I was dead or run outta town. Ya did what ya needed to do to survive. That ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of. Only person should be feelin’ any shame is the stinkin’ bastard takin’ advantage.”

Meaghan sighed softly; an exhale of enormous relief as she leaned into his embrace. Tears rolling from tightly clenched eyes as her fingers at last released their hold on the long since extinguished cigarette and kneaded instead the folds of her husband’s white shirt. The one that she always carefully and lovingly ironed every morning. As she had done the past ten years of their marriage.

“I’m sorry I never told you.” She said, weeping openly now. “I didn’t want you seeing him around town and knowing…”

“If I knew, he wouldn’t be walkin’ ‘round town, honey.” Meyer murmured, pressing his chin through the wild floof of her hair whilst tenderly caressing the back of her head. “He’d be in fifteen small pieces, scattered across the Commonwealth.”

“That’s the _other_ thing that worried me.” Meaghan said, groaning with worry as she leaned back in order to wipe at her eyes. Her makeup was running, reminding me so much of Eve whenever she succumbed to a teary. Dammit, where _was_ she? “Wasn’t even sure if it was something I could go through with. It was… awful. Hearing Evie talking about it, just brought it all back. I’d almost forgotten about the photographs…”

Meyer grunted as his palm dropped down to rub soothing circles in the space between Meaghan’s shoulder blades. “Wish that _I_ could.”

“Can’t believe he still had hold of the fucking things.” She wiped her eyes again and turned now to look at me. “Did anyone else see them?”

“Only myself and BC.” I gestured to Meyer with my thumb. “Meyer… got rid of them.”

She exhaled deeply with relief, pressing her side back into Meyer’s chest as he lent his lips to the worrisome lines of her forehead.

“Good. Glad the fucker can’t look at them ever again.”

“Speaking _of_ the fucker,” Cait segued as she swung her legs about and climbed up from the table. I did my utmost as a gentleman and a now committed, monogamous boyfriend to ignore the fact that she _clearly_ wasn’t wearing a bra as she sashayed her way towards me. “What’d he have to say for himself?”

I pinched my lip between my teeth; a physical gesture that barely replicated the feelings of rage roiling through me. “Haven’t pinned him down yet. Bastard’s gone to ground. We got Stan in custody and I got the boys roundin’ up the Triggerman. Just in case Marowski had something planned. Anniversary of the coup comin’ up and all.” I tilted slightly to the side, peering around Cait and then lifting up onto my tiptoes in case I was being especially blind in this circumstance. When it became clear that there was no one else hiding out in the sitting area, I turned my attention back to the girls. I could feel the worry stealing across my face, as I asked: “Where’s Eve?”

Piper took another deep draw from her cigarette; her own expression steeped in concern. “Took off a little while back.” She thrust out a hand towards me; seeing that I was starting to flare up. “Hold on before you go nuclear; she took off with _Nick_ in tow. He came knocking a while ago; figured something was going on when he saw most of the Neighbourhood Watch heading for the Statehouse.”

“And none of you thought to try and stop her?” I snapped, knowing all the while that I needed to keep my panic and my temper in check but possessing only the vaguest memory of what that level of control felt like. It was easier to indulge it; much easier than it had even been in the past. I suppose I must have stopped giving a shit at some point. Likely that exact point in time when I gave my heart over to Eve; relegating all other responsibilities and concerns to the back burner.

In response to my statement, Cait loosed a sarcastic sounding snort.

“Yeah because _that_ works with someone built like _Eve._ ” She said, rolling her eyes. _“_ You know how she gets.”

“Like a Brahmin with a sore head.” Piper added, rubbing her fingers across her forehead. Her brows were pinched in tight around her eyes and I could tell from this look alone that it hadn’t been by choice that she had allowed Eve to get past her. “Shook us off like we were bath water.”

It was a fair assessment. Eve was the biggest of the four girls and indisputably the strongest to boot. Even Cait; trim, taut and muscular herself posed little challenge. A fact, proven by their bout in the ring at the Combat Zone. The pair had been forced to go toe to toe, after the rest of us had stumbled in. Ironically enough, it had been Cait herself whom we had been searching for; understanding that she was in possession of some information pertaining to one of Nick’s cases; the disappearances of numerous individuals within the Commonwealth, the Capital Wasteland and even further afield. Disappearances that spanned up and down the Coastline. Disappearances that operated under the umbrella of the Institute but didn’t quite match the pattern most of us had come to recognize of the Commonwealth’s boogeyman.

Talk of slavery; physical and sexual. Survivors hiking clothing aside to reveal that ever hateful and familiar mark of the bulls head.

A mark that had been witnessed on the once bared hip of the cage fighter known only as Cait.

A mark we both shared.

The Raiders would only allow us to leave if we managed to beat Cait in a fight. Eve was the only one with direct Martial Arts experience. It had been a tough fight but her superior size and strength had been what got her over the line in the end. Amazing to think how close the two of them were now. Considering how hard they had once lain into each other…

I rubbed at the bridge of my nasal cavity, annoyed that I allowed my thoughts to distract me once again. And annoyed even more with Eve. Christ, why couldn’t the silly woman just _stay_ in the one place? Did she actually _want_ something terrible to happen to her again?

“I don’t understand…” I groaned impatiently, huffing out a sigh as I peered upwards towards the slant of orange sky now visible between the surrounding buildings conferring rooftops. “What’d she run off to do?”

Cait perched her hands on her hips, looking about as annoyed as I myself was feeling. “Well, after she blubbered a bit, she suddenly remembered she had _washing_ to get out of the machine. Didn’t listen when we told her it could wait. Luckily Valentine came knocking and since she got all riled up about storming out, he volunteered to go with her until she calmed the fuck down.” She ran a hand back through her hair, eyes darting back and forth along the ground as though still disputing something internally and finding nothing to assuage her feelings. “Figured we’d wait here for him to bring her back. Girl was actin’ _weird._ ”

I couldn’t help but smirk a little at this. “What? Weirder than usual?”

Piper gave me a look so serious that it immediately wiped the smile from my face. “Like… _zombie_ walking weird, ya know? Like she’s in some sort of trance or something.” She gave what she must have thought was an accurate interpretation; eyes wide and glaring, face slack and lower lip all but dangling open. It made her look a bit daft, so I knew without a doubt that this was _exactly_ how Eve must have appeared to them. “She was also carrying on about giving Dogmeat a bath. Got some blood on his mouth from grabbing one of the Raider’s before we got into town. Seemed to think it couldn’t wait.”

I hissed angrily and stared back over my shoulder. “Damn. Must have just missed her back at the Statehouse.” I glanced towards the others and touched my fingers to the brim of my hat. “I’ll head back that way and see if I can track her and that rusty old circuit board down. Catch ya later.”

“Um… John?” Meaghan called out, bringing me up short as I pulled open the back door and paused with one foot hovering in limbo over the stoop. “A quick word, if I could?”

I forced myself to be patient; keeping in mind that Eve was currently with Nick, which meant she was likely to be safe and not carried off by Marowski into some fate worse than death. I could spare a moment to speak with Meaghan. She was going through hell herself.

“Yeah, sure.” I said, holding open the door and waiting for her to extract herself from Meyer’s arms. She issued a soft ‘Everything’s fine’ as he stared after her with concern, smiling as she stepped around me and swished back into the shop; the sequins in her extravagant dress winking in the days dying sun.

Once I had followed her inside, Meg made a point to make certain that the door was entirely eased into its foundations before turning towards me. Her smile lowered and her eyes resonated with a mixture of grave concern and sadness.

“He looks…” She paused for a moment, apparently having difficulty finding the words and instead passed a hand over her face in representation. “Doped to the gills. Now, you be honest with me; John Hancock. Did Meyer go and have one of his… little turns?”

I sighed and crossed my arms. “If by ‘ _little’_ you mean, did he lose his goddamn shit and try and take off to axe every Triggerman in town? Then yeah.” I held my fingers up and spaced them about a millimetre apart. “Little turn.”

Meaghan groaned, her eyes swinging up towards the ceiling. “Shit…” She murmured, maintaining this posture for some time before focusing her attention back on me. I imagined she might have reposed like this for longer if she hadn’t been aware of my desperate need to go to Eve. “Did he, you know… deteriorate? Get that funny white film over his eyes?”

I gave her a look; wondering if Meyer’s mental health was in fact worse than I had realized. “This happen much at home, Meg?”

“Not for years, honey. And I was hopin’ it wouldn’t done happen for a few more.” She grunted far in the back of her throat; clearly irritated. “Which is why I wanna know just what damage has been done to my husband’s mind.”

She clearly wanted her time wasted about as much as I did. So I gave her the information she was after without further detraction. “The feral did start to come out… and… I think the brain rot might have transgressed some. Infinitesimally, if anything.”

Meaghan groaned softly, pressing her fingertips to her painted lips. “No offense love, but it _ain’t_ for you to say. We’re gonna have to be draggin’ our asses back to Amari now for more scans and readouts and god knows what else. Probably have to go through that fucking ECT shit again. Increase the dosage of his meds…” She fetched a crumpled pack of cigarettes out from somewhere between her breasts and slid one between her lips. She pinched out a lighter from inside of the pack and tried to light the smoke, but her fingers were trembling too badly. “Shit already, makes him feel… shit and… dozy all the time. Like his brain’s sloshing around in a jar of water. Takes the pills anyway, so none of that bad shit can seep on in.” Her eyes teared up again; frustrated by both her thoughts _and_ her inability to light her cigarette. She kept flicking at the dial but the flame persisted in spattering out into sparks. “Shit.”

I gently took the lighter out of her hands and gave the dial one firm flick to ignite it. I held the flame steady as I lowered it towards the tip of the cigarette; watching as Meaghan’s cheeks sucked in through the length of the cylinder. It reminded me of earlier; lighting Eve’s cigarette for her out on the Statehouse balcony. I wanted to go to her. I feared for the state of her mind just as much as Meaghan clearly cared for her husbands’ welfare. I reminded myself again of Nick. She would be safe. I could afford to be patient. To respect Meaghan and what she was asking of me.

“Thanks.” She said, leaning back and puffing on the smoke before offering me a thoughtful, strangely sensitive look. “Please don’t think I’m layin’ any of this on _you,_ honey. Not you, not Evie. I was the one done made the mistake all those years ago.” She shrugged, though her face wore an expression far from nonchalant. She looked wracked with misery. “Meyer and I were fallin’ in love with each other… and then he went off with ya’ll and I… I thought he’d left Goodneighbour behind and-”

“You don’t need to explain anything to _me._ ” I said, trying to speak gently as I reached out to squeeze her just above the elbow. “I’m the most selfish of all. What high ground could possibly support _me_ if I had a mind to judge?”

Meaghan chuckled ironically. “Yeah, I figured you’d say somethin’ like that. I just don’t want you thinkin’ _I’m_ selfish either; tellin’ Meyer not to get involved.”

I smiled, not having thought anything of the sort. “Well, it makes sense why you wanted him to keep his distance.”

She nodded deliberately. “Hell yeah, it does. I mean… he’s come so far and he’s done so well these past few years. Sticking to the meds, no matter how shit they make him feel. Keeping his temper in check, practicing relaxation strategies, regular check ins with the doc, all that pokin’ and prodding.” She hefted a sigh, sucked back on the cigarette. Worked the anxiety back that little further. “This trigger… it just… _he_ just didn’t need it. Probably set him back a good five or six years. Now we gotta work at building him up again. Startin’ from goddamn _scratch._ ”

“Yeah. I hear where you’re coming from, Meg.” I said, giving her arm another squeeze. “I’m sorry I let him tag along…”

“Like I said; I ain’t blamin’ you. What you’d just heard; I wasn’t expecting ya to be thinkin’ straight.” She rolled her shoulders lightly. “No one’s damn fault but my own.”

I shook my head; feeling yet another flush of irritation burst through me. Not at Meaghan but for the mindset that she was championing in refusing to adrift the responsibility of her abuse. “Ain’t your fault. It’s Marowski’s. He’s a fuckin’ parasite; preyin’ on good folks desperation. Ain’t no better than Vic. Just a shadow of that miserable cunt; clinging on to the corners of the buildings.” My smile crept up slowly as I petted her arm. “Can’t say I pulled it together much better than Meyer, to be fair. Used his axe to bash that asshole’s desk to smithereens.”

Meaghan’s own lips quirked into a smile around the filter of her cigarette. “Yeah, but _that_ sort of anger is natural. And _you_ can recover from it. For Meyer, all that adrenaline just accelerates the rot. Little by little.” She blew a thin stream of smoke; her expression morphing to one of contemplation in its wake. “Until one day, there ain’t no comin’ back from it. Until he’s just another feral; hidin’ out on the Subway tracks and waitin’ for some fool to come rollin’ up on him.”

I lifted my hand to give her a little clip to the earlobe; causing her eyes to widen as she stared up at me reproachfully. I smiled and winked.

“Being defeatist really ain’t your style, Meg. Come on, now.” I clasped her shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. “Your old man’s got rot to less than two percent of his brain. The odds are in his favour. Don’t let the fear convince ya otherwise, yeah?”

Meaghan smiled a little, still tearful as she dragged in on her cigarette. “I’m always… livin’ in fear. Afraid that the rot’ll spread to a part of his brain more important than the rest. His self-control, rationality, his sanity… every time it’s just so scary.” Her eyes welled and she rolled her lips in upon themselves; chin trembling. It took her a few good moments before she had composure enough to continue speaking. “I don’t want people to start thinking he’s a… psycho again. It took _years_ for him to be able to shake that reputation… To feel normal and safe enough to even _consider_ bringing kids into the equation… All that hard work…”

I brought her attention back to reality with another firm clasp to the shoulder.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sure you got nothin’ to worry about on this occasion.” I said; knowing I possessed no authority to in judging the matter but wanting more than anything to calm and assuage her. Not simply because she was my dear friend but for selfish reasons too. I wasn’t able to cast aside my thoughts and worry of Eve. Nick be damned. “Man was angry because he saw his missus in a terrible state. And he’s _furious_ with the bastard that did it to you. And devastated because he feels like he failed you. Don’t freak yourself out too much with the worry about the brain rot and all that.” I knelt a little so she was able to see the confidence and care in my expression. I could only hope. Only pray that the desperation and worry wasn’t seeping through to the forefront just yet. “Just support one another. Besides, Jack got to him pretty quick. Pumped the rads in to heal the neural pathways and I stabilized him with some Calm-X. Brought him down right fast.”

Her smile had finally stopped wavering and she appeared to be accepting the reassurance for the comfort it now provided.

“Thankyou.” She said, giving my arm a return squeeze. “Did he hurt anyone?”

I lifted my right leg; flexing it at the knee so that it crackled like so many broken twigs beneath a blanket. “Gave me a fair crack in the knee and Addy a fat lip. Nothin’ can’t be fixed with a nice glass of whiskey.”

Meaghan groaned; annoyed. “God, he’s a pain. I’m guessin’ that shiner on his face was you servin’ him a slice of comeuppance?”

“Gotta be cruel ta be kind sometimes, darlin’.” I said, smirking in what I’m sure was a rather mean fashion. It wasn’t polite of me, but I hadn’t minded laying that one on Meyer. He'd fucking well deserved it. “Anyhow, he’s _fine._ Gave him a stiff drink and some Chark so he’ll likely be wantin’ a nap soon. Might do well to walk him home and tuck him in.”

“Forget it.” Meaghan scoffed, looking disgusted. “I ain’t leavin’ that fool alone, ‘til I know well and sure he ain’t runnin’ out ta do more damn harm. He can curl up behind the desk ‘til I’m finished up with work.” She waved a finger from side to side. “ _And_ after he gets the garbage out. Fit or no fit, he’s not gettin’ outta that one.”

“Damn girl, you are _brutal._ ” I said, smiling as I took her hand and leaned forward to peck her on the cheek. “Okay, well… if that’s everything, I’d best go and find Evie and see how she’s holding up.”

“Poor love.” Meaghan said, raising her voice as I trotted about the island counter and made my way back towards the front doors. “You can, you tell her to get her butt back here so we can finish up her fitting. I got the haberdasher’s equivalent of blue balls goin’ on here.”

I turned and walked backwards through the doors, cupping my hands about my mouth like some sort of primitive megaphone.

“Love, don’t even _talk_ to me about blue balls. I’m currently reigning expert on the theme!” I laughed to see Meaghan’s shop assistant looking positively scandalized by my words; clutching the garment she was currently looking over to her chest and staring off into some unseen place she thought might rescue her. “I’ll let her know. Take care, beautiful.”

I quickly pulled the doors shut before I could be dragged back by any further hindrances and limped my way towards the Statehouse as fast as my bung leg could carry me. I wondered if Eve had been downstairs, sorting out the washing when I was addressing all the boys? Likely the state she was in she probably hadn’t been paying any attention to what was being said but still… I hated to think of her being so close and yet so devoid, so _traumatized_ that she just worked through her tasks like… like a Mr Handy without the personality chip.

She needed me. She’d been crying and she _needed_ for me to hold her. To reassure her of my love; my loyalty. So that she knew, beyond all doubt that I didn’t blame her for what had happened. All those fears that Meaghan had; the things she had been so convinced Meyer would feel towards her… surely, this was what Eve was afraid of too.

After everything… how could she possibly… could she really believe that my love for her would be so easily destroyed?

I made my way past the Third Rail and headed for the doorway bordering the main street. It was then that I spotted Nick’s tall and distinctive figure; that pale trench coat of his seeming to almost glow in the days fading light. I paused, staring at his back and watching as his face turned, clearly observing someone. It was Eve; wearing a white… _dressing gown_ of all things. And over her shorts, to boot. She was struggling towards Nick with Dogmeat in her arms; or more specifically, towards the large tin wash basin that resided beside his feet. It was brimming with bubbles and likely a decent slathering of highly prized Goodneighbor water. Though knowing Eve, it wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d gone and purchased three hundred bottles of Purified water and simply poured them into the tub.

A small crowd had gathered about to watch; casting whispers amongst themselves as they watched the admittedly strange scenario unfold before them. I knew Eve would be embarrassed had she been clear headed enough to appreciate what was going on. Poor love wasn’t in possession of her senses, a fact made ever the more obvious by the strange, absent glaze to her eyes.

I could see Nick’s synthetic lips moving, attempting to speak to Eve or at least gauge her attention. She didn’t really look at him; her own eyes set resolutely on the tub; Dogmeat’s legs sticking out stiffly from his body as though they were wreathed in splints. His ears were back and he stared at the bathtub with the same level of fear most people ascribe to a quickly advancing Deathclaw.

I made my approach, lighting up on Mac who was standing with hands in pockets; observing the whole thing with an expression that couldn’t be more perfectly compared to a question mark. His right brow and right hand lip were both quirked up in agreement of the other’s assessment; his brow wrinkled from beneath his hat. He glanced over at me as I approached and lifted his chin in means of greeting.

“Oh, hey Hancock.”

I nodded my own hello before then returning my eyes to Eve and her furry agenda.

“She been at it long?”

MacCready scoffed. “Long enough to pull a crowd. You’d think this sorta thing wouldn’t be all that interesting in a place like Goodneighbor.”

I gestured with my head towards the dithering lollygaggers. “Out of towners. A woman babbling to herself whilst wearing a dressing gown and hauling a dog into a bathtub is probably a novelty where a lot of them come from.”

“I’m not sure what to think myself.” Mac admitted. “Evie’s normally got it all pulled together but now…” He heaved a long, protracted sigh. “Guess the cheese was well overdue to fall off _that_ particular cracker but still doesn’t make it much easier to see.”

“What exactly she been doing?”

His right shoulder quirked up to follow in the wake of his brow and lip. “Well, nothing crazy. Not really. Just… actin’… weird, ya know? Well, _weirder_ than usual. Talkin’ to herself, crying off and on, not really acknowledging anyone around her… Ya know. _Weird._ ” He finally turned and took me in; expression mildly suspicious. “What’s going on? You guys get in a fight or something? Or did she just lose her marbles when you took your clothes off?”

I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate his attempt at humor and I think he could tell right away from my expression. But I let him know it anyway.

“Shut it, MacCready.” I growled, pulling away from his side and making my way gradually towards Nick’s. He must have sensed me coming because he turned to glance down at me as I pulled up alongside him. He gestured towards Eve with a sidelong tilt of his head.

“I’ve been trying to talk with her for the past fifteen minutes but so far…” He looked back towards her; clearly concerned. “Haven’t been able to get a straight answer. Nothing that makes much sense anyway.”

“Yeah well, maybe she just ain’t interested in having a chat with you, Valentine.” I said coldly, not having forgotten who Eve had been travelling with the night she had been raped. I had a lot of questions concerning this as well but right now, all I needed to do was take care of my girl. Ignoring Nick’s confused expression, I knelt down beside the tub, lowering my voice to a far gentler nuance as Eve finally managed to carry Dogmeat over beside it. “Hey baby. What you doin’ there?”

Eve grunted, clearly not having an easy time of things with Dogmeat. He looked more adamant than ever that he was _not_ going to submit to a bath and had started to windmill his legs wildly in an attempt to either swim or struggle his way to freedom.

“Well, you know, I figured I could… sit around, crying over spilt milk or I could… just, get on with… getting on!” Eve exclaimed, her voice oddly chipper given how red her tear speckled face was. She was clearly not a happy girl but was doing her most to pretend otherwise. The end result was decidedly… disconcerting, to say the least. “No time like the present. I mean –” She scoffed, eyes awning even wider than they usually were. No small feat. “– there’s just so MUCH to _do_! I got the uh, clothes out to dry – so _that’s_ done and then – _then –_ I remembered I promised Dogmeat a bath. So…” She tried to lower Dogmeat into the bath but he resisted; bracing all four paws against the ridges of the bucket. The deep arch of his chest only barely scraped the towering pillars of bubbles. “I’ll give him his bath and then… _then_ I’ll need to start making those burgers and I’ll… I’ll brush my teeth and… get changed and… I mean…” She laughed. Sadly. Resignedly. “You probably don’t _want_ to even _look_ at me anymore but… I don’t know. There’s just… there’s just so much to get _done._ ”

I shook my head; wanting her to know how stalwartly I denied her words. Denied her feelings of hate and undeserved self-loathing. “Want more than just ta look at you, Munch. Ain’t _nothin’_ changin’ that. As for all that work, you don’t need to be worrying yourself with any of that. All you need to be doing right now is taking it easy.” I held out my hand to her; my chest aching with the full force of emotion that gave rise in her expression. Desperation. A deeply interred, firmly denied ‘ _Please come save me’._ “Come on, darlin. I’m sure old Dogbreath can go another day without a bath.”

The force of her refusal almost rocked me onto my backside, it was so violent. “NO!” She roared, shaking her head furiously before bursting into sobs with the same hindered breath. “No, no, _no._ It needs to be _NOW_!! After all, with the water shortage, there’s no way I’m wasting this. No _way_ in Hell!! Not to mention he’s got –” She grunted as she wrested her arm about to free Dogmeat’s legs one at a time, only for him to return them to his previous foothold the second she moved to another. “– blood on his face from where he mauled that Raider. I need to… clean it off! He has to be… he needs to be _clean._ ”

She had placed a washcloth nearby; in preparation for giving Dogmeat his rub down, no doubt. I plucked it up, dunking it in the cool water and reached carefully for the pooch’s face, ignoring the growl he directed at me as I wiped his muzzle off. Removing all remaining traces of the blood.

“There.” I said, holding up the pink tinted cloth as evidence of the jobs completion. “All done, sweetheart. The rest can wait. You don’t need to go worrying yourself about the water.”

She glared at me; with an expression I had rarely if _ever_ seen cast in my direction.

“Of _course_ I need to worry, John!” She all but yelled. “It’s not just ‘one rule for Eve and another for everyone else!’ I _need_ to be accountable! Especially,” She laughed and I hated the edge of hysteria it possessed. “ _Especially_ given I’m probably gonna be the one responsible for throwing this town into civil war again, the least I can do is make sure I don’t fuck anything else up! _Right?!_ ” She sobbed in frustration as Dogmeat continued in his steadfast efforts to avoid being bathed.” Dogmeat, would you just _STOP_ it, _PLEASE?!!_ ”

And then, something I could _never_ imagine Eve ever being capable of. She freed one of her hands from about Dogmeat’s middle and struck it hard against his muzzle; a gesture that came from a clearly desperate and frustrated place. But still, a place I couldn’t ever imagine Eve ever arriving at. Dogmeat was like… her surrogate _child._ I’d never seen her give him so much as a smack on the backside; let alone lash out at him like this.

I mean, I knew she was capable of such things. She’d slapped me about the face whilst we’d been travelling together the past few months. Kind though she was, the woman wasn’t immune to the occasional irrationality wrought by pure emotion. And given the insanity that was her life; I hadn’t held her to account for it. Seen people do a lot worse with less of a reason.

But still, to see her do it to _Dogmeat_. I knew that this was yet another thing that she would hate herself for; when her mind had steadied a little. But no one except Nick and myself really flinched at it. Dogs out in the Commonwealth are often treated a lot worse than Dogmeat. We reacted more for the shock it had wrought, to see Eve behave in such a way.

But no one was more shocked than Dogmeat himself, I think. He let out a sad, puzzled high pitched yelp, his tail immediately schlepping down between his thighs as he thrashed and wriggled to be free from Eve’s hold. She released him, falling back onto her ass and bringing her arms up over her head; forehead pressing to the rise of her knees. Dogmeat circled the bath, whining lightly before catching sight of me kneeling on the far side. His whimpers morphed immediately into a throaty snarl and his tail hiked up high as he charged over and sank his teeth into my arm.

“OW! You fucking _kidding?!_ ” I yelled, reaching down and grabbing Dogmeat firmly by the scruff. I didn’t concern myself much with gentility; using that flexible handle of flesh to steer him over towards Nick, who took hold from where I left off. _“_ Don’t take it out on me, mutt! I’m not the one who smacked you!” I turned back towards Eve, who continued rocking with her face in her arms; feeling myself just the slightest bit annoyed by her behaviour.  And in that vein, don’t take out your frustration on the _dog_. It’s not his fault what’s happened.”

Eve’s sobs keened so loudly that all my anger with her immediately vanished into the warm afternoon air. Her short hair whipped about as she twitched her head from side to side; elbows near touching just above the rise of her knees. She looked like a small child; cowering in a closet whilst a thunderstorm rocked the windows outside.

“I know – I _know._ I’m so sorry! I’m so _sorry!_ ” Her palms formed into fists and she started beating into the crown of her head; making a horrible, cracking, meaty noise. Jesus, she was _really_ fucking giving it to herself. _“_ I’m just a stupid, stupid _bitch!_ ”

I moved quickly to her side, kneeling down and grabbing her hands to prevent her further injuring herself.

“You’re not a bitch. You’re just…” I ran my palm slowly over the top of her head; trying to soothe out the places that she had no doubt left aching and stinging. “You’re _exhausted_. And scared. And sad. And ya haven’t given yourself a chance to deal with any of this shit. Not properly. And now it’s gone and eaten holes right through ya.” I rubbed the peaking bone of her wrist as I held it steady; resisting all her attempts to continue punishing herself. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

“No.” She sobbed stubbornly, raising her head just enough to take a wipe at her red, bleary eyes. “No. I’m _not_ wasting that water.”

I sighed, realizing that she was not going to budge from this point; no matter how persuasive I was. And so, a solution presented itself; perhaps just as irrational as the state of Eve’s mind itself. But what the hell. _Anything_ to spare her from the eyes of all these idiots standing around.

“Right.” I said, climbing creakily to my feet and flipping my hat neatly off of my head. I dropped it to the ground by my boots and proceeded to pull my shirt up over my shoulders. I saw Eve’s eyes reappear from beneath the white material; staring up at me. No longer wailing and snivelling but looking absolutely, positively perplexed.

“What are you doing?” She asked as I balanced on one foot at a time in order to remove my boots. Not an easy feat given how weak one of my legs was compared to the other but I managed it.

“Well, _someone_ is going to have to have a bath today.” I said, peeling off my socks and flipping them up into the air as though they were as lovely as flower petals. I started working on the knot in my sash; largely loosened still from where I took it off earlier. “And if it’s not going to be Dogmeat, well; it might as well be _me._ I’m the one with the date, after all.”

Eve shot to her feet and glanced about at the milling crowd; clearly dumbfounded by what I was doing. I don’t think she realized how serious I was until I whipped off the sash and started working on my trouser buttons.

“You… you’re not _serious._ ” She murmured and a burst of relief flushed through me to see the tiny smile that now formed on her lips. “We’re not back at Wanderer’s Respite, ya know?!”

“More’s the pity.” I said, quite seriously as I finished with the buttons and whipped down the zipper. Eve’s hands slapped to her mouth, eyes bugging as I yanked my trousers down in one fell swoop. I used my body to keep my dick from being seen (didn’t help the poor bastards behind me much) and carefully worked my feet out from each leg of my pants. When I was free, I lifted the material back up and used it to cover my groin.

Well, by now the crowd had forgotten about Eve’s theatrics entirely and were entirely consumed in whatever the hell it was that _I_ was doing. Not everyday that a Ghoul had the guts to take his clothes off in the presence of _one_ person, let alone in front of an audience. I could hear a lot of whispering; a couple of ‘whoops’ and more than a few wolf whistles. I winked and made the pistol fingers with my free hand; pretending to fire off a shot towards my fans in the crowd as I stepped up and into the tub.

The water was cool, which suited me just fine; given how goddamn hot the day was. The bubbles clung to the sides of my legs; popping and frothing as I lowered myself slowly into the water like an olden days ballerina bringing herself to an elegant crouch before some grandiose performance. When I was certain that the bubbles were high enough to keep my dick from being seen, I flipped the trousers over onto the ground and settled down on the base of the tub. It felt very cold on my ass cheeks. And I was forced to stretch my legs out so that they projected over the lip of the bath; flecks of soap dangling from the tips of my toes. I crossed them at the ankle and rested my arms on each side of the tub; smiling contentedly at Eve as she continued to stare at me, hands pressed to her mouth in astonishment. The crowd had just about doubled in size as people wandered up; no doubt either amused or intrigued by the sight of the town Mayor taking a bath in the middle of the street.

“Aaaah…” I sighed theatrically, stretching my arms up above my head before letting them drop back down to rest on the border of the bath. “Now _that_ is one good tub, Eve.” I flipped two fingers towards Dogmeat, who was whining and padding in place as he was held back by Nick. “Don’t know what you’re missing, son.”

He barked petulantly in my direction and pulled hard to be free of Nick; either as a means to reclaim the bath that had been rightfully his (and patently unwanted until now) or to sink his head underwater and bite me on the dick. I tried to maintain my cool but it was difficult to resist the sudden urge to cover my groin with my hand.

“Now all I need is a cocktail and a fine romantic novel to wile my woes away.” I tilted my head back and beamed at Eve; crooking my index finger at her. “Well? Don’t just stand there with your mouth gaping open like some creepy sideshow attraction, love.” I gestured down towards myself with both hands. “You gotta lot of filthy Ghoul to sponge down and only a small window of daylight remaining to get it done in. I suggest you crack on with it.”

For one awful moment I wasn’t sure _how_ Eve was going to react. Was she still so messed up that she would take offense with my random stunt and punch me square in the jaw? Storm away through the crowd wailing and rending her garments? Break up with me on the spot and leave me gaping stupidly in this tiny tub of soap suds?

But then from behind her hands I heard a familiar snorting sound. I saw her eyes pinch close together; a sure sign that her cheeks were bunching up from beneath and not too seconds later, she was rocking with hysterical laughter. Arms dropping to wrap tight about her middle; as though she was attempting to keep her organs from spilling out all over the pavement. She near rent herself in half; unable to straighten up. Made all the worse by the fact she was clearly trying to draw a breath but kept on snorting instead; which only made her laugh harder as she tried to put a stop to the onslaught. Naturally, it got me and the surrounding crowd chuckling as well. Eve’s laugh was contagious; though I suppose it would be more accurate to say that the way she laughed made other people laugh. Though my laughter was mostly derived from the almost orgasmic feeling of relief that washed through me. So she _wasn’t_ beyond reach. She was still here, her mind was still intact. I hadn’t lost her.

“ _Oh my God… Oh my God! You_ are the _best!!”_ She managed to force out from between peals of laughter and hiccupping snorts. She waved her index finger roughly in my direction. “Look at you in that tiny little tub! You look like such an _idiot_!!”

I lifted my shoulders in a light hearted shrug. “Idiot is as idiot does, sister. And considering I’m what _you’re_ doing these days, ya might wanna be careful what words ya bandy about from here on out.” I flashed a wink at her. “Besides… we never _did_ get to try out that Jacuzzi together back at _Cragenshore._ Never too late to make dreams come true.”

“Only this isn’t a Jacuzzi.” Eve sighed, wiping tears from her eyes before then dusting grime and grit free from the seat of her dressing gown.  “It’s an old metal wash bucket I dragged outta one of your storage sheds. Half filled with cobwebs and Radrat poo. With some shampoo squeezed in to make bubbles. No jets or nothing.”

“Eh, yeah, well… I drank a lotta beer earlier.” I said, dipping one hand into the water and feeling about the inside of the tub for the aforementioned traces of webs and rodent droppings. I found one or two small pellets and evoked another laugh from Eve as I nonchalantly dropped them over the lip and onto the ground. “There’s still hope for those jets yet.”

I heard MacCready groan agonizingly from nearby. “Oh geez… it’s just like being back out in the Wasteland again! Put your clothes back _on_ , Hancock! No one wants to see _that!_ ”

“Yeah, take it inside before ya put everyone in town off their dinner!” Pattie called from somewhere off to the right. I was slightly buoyed to hear a few detractors call out ‘boo’ their statements. Nice to think there were more than a few horny little Shufflefucker’s in the mix.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” I said, cupping a hand about my ear. “I couldn’t hear you over how _single_ the both of you are. Maybe try again later when you’ve found someone to love you.” Amidst the laughter this statement wrought, I made a point of crooking my foamy leg up in the air and running my palms down along the length of it. Like a beautiful woman might have done in a sexy film shoot.

“They’re only jealous, darling.” Eve said, smirking as she cupped her hands under my leg and took over rubbing it from where I left off. Man those _hands._ “ _I_ happen to think you look _fabulous._ ”

I made a show of glancing off to the side with a particularly haughty gesture. Much like a cat who felt it was entitled to whatever attention you are showing it. “Well, you’re not wrong, girl.”

Eve laughed as she set my leg down and picked up a sponge from nearby. She held it aloft beside her face before then wiggling her shoulders in an inviting manner. “Well, _I’d_ best get to work then. There’s a lot of dirty, _filthy_ Ghoul for me to clean up. And only this itty bitty sponge to do it with."

I laughed and stuck my tongue from the corner of my mouth. Trying not to let the idea of what was about to happen ruin the carefully maintained peak of bubbles only thinly veiling my groin. “Guess you’d best be _thorough_ then.”

And so, for the next five minutes, Eve made a big show of sponging my extremely willing self off. Holding up one arm at a time to wipe my armpits, rub along each of my legs and wipe down my back. Cleaned the pink butterfly off of my face; sad though it was to see the kids artwork put to waste. Can’t tell a lie though; it did feel fucking _awesome._ And served the dual purpose of actually being helpful; given how horrible and sweaty I had gotten during the day. I was long overdue for a good wash and having Eve do the so called ‘honors’ was simply the cherry on top.

For the benefit of the still observing crowd, we tried to keep the situation funny. Like me, pointing at my crotch down below the surface of the water and then pretending to cry when Eve shook her head and pretended to vomit beside the tub. This sent the spectators into thunderous laughter and some even applauded; as though we were intentionally putting on a performance piece. Who knows; perhaps that’s exactly what they thought this was. They all seemed highly entertained however. One of the vendors nearby was reaping the rewards; selling bags of what looked like hot, steaming tato’s from cone shaped baskets. My stomach had started to growl from the smell, so I knew my appetite had finally resurfaced. Eve refused to go and get me a bag though; which I thought a little mean. Said it would spoil my dinner. How little the woman knew about me and my limitless stomach capacity.

As Eve was soaping over the back of my extended hand, a man stepped out through the crowd holding a camera between both hands. I stiffened instantly, thinking that it might have been Marowski but realized that this guy was smaller and when he spoke it was in the same familiar brash twang as that lot from far West in New Vegas.

“Hey, Mayor Hancock; mind if I take a shot?” He asked, hefting up the camera as though I needed proof that the shot he spoke of was of the photographical nature and not the smoking gun variety. “I work for the _New Vegas Monthly_. Thought this would make a nice piece for our _Commonwealth_ special.”

There’d been a lot of talk about this ‘Commonwealth Special’. Apparently this magazine that ran out of New Vegas was allocating the entire issue to the company’s visit to the East Coast of the country. They were currently visiting Goodneighbor specifically to attend the Christmas fete and to learn more about human/ghoul relations along the East coast area. I’d spoken with the reps a few times, though I hadn’t been very enthusiastic before now. Given how my mind was preoccupied with Eve and my injuries and not being able to get out and stalk the Commonwealth again.

I glanced up at Eve, wondering if the camera might remind her of what Marowski had done; thinking I should just ask this joker to be on his bike before he triggered her off again. But her expression was one of absolute delight and excitement and her fingers drummed against my soapy shoulder urgently.

“Oh, _oh!_ You should take it with just one butt cheek sticking out of the water, covered in soap!” She suggested, pointing to her own ass as though I needed further clarification as to what body part she was referring. “That would be _fucking_ adorable!”

I pursed my lips; playing up the impression that I was taking this suggestion seriously. Of course, I wasn’t about to try anything of the sort. Not because I was worried about people seeing my butt; that ship had already sailed. I just didn’t want the photographer accidentally getting a shot of the brand on my back. No doubt some of the folks had seen it earlier when I stripped my duds off but most likely they had cast it off as nothing more serious than a badly thought out tattoo. A picture making tracks around New Vegas might go and attract the wrong attention. I sure as shit didn’t need people who ‘knew’ what the brand stood for, knowing what had happened to me. Wouldn’t exactly inspire confidence.

“I don’t think there’s room enough in this tub for me to pull that off.” I finally declared, which was still a reasonable point. I snapped my sudsy fingers as best I could. “Maybe I should just sit up on my knees…” I made to do so, tugging my legs into the tub and wriggling about until they were bent beneath me. I perched up enough so that the soap still covered what needed covering and pouted what was left of my lips in a hopefully alluring manner. “And we have you just sorta lookin’ at the camera all sexy like; rubbing the soapy sponge down my chest?”

Eve nodded her head seriously as she took a good look over my now exposed chest. Nice to think that she actually seemed to enjoy checking me out when given the opportunity. I had long since decided that if we ever were to get together that she would simply tolerate my nudity the way any other woman might have done in the past. But this didn’t seem to be the case at all. Strange girl that she was.

“A stout plan.” She said, crossing both arms and twisting her lip off to the side thoughtfully. “Unfortunately sir, I have little to no experience with being sexy.”

I allowed myself to slip down further into the tub; like a deflating balloon. “Damn. I'd forgotten about that. Very well, we have no recourse but to enlist young MacCready’s assistance with this arduous task. Mac! " I called, pressed my hand up to my brow, like a sailor on a ship might have done and started peering about the crowd. I whistled as though calling a dog to me. "Get over here and be sexy with me! Your time has come!”

Eve laughed and gestured off through the milling crowd to where I had last heard MacCready’s disgusted voice emanate. “Oh, he took off four minutes forty-five seconds ago. I’m afraid we are stranded with nought but each other to see out this mission, my darling.”

“Curses!” I exclaimed dramatically, thrusting a fist down into the water so that it spurted up all over my face. I could feel soap clinging to my cheeks and the side of my mouth; which I puffed away with a breath from the corner of my lips. “Why must the Gods test me so? Surely there is someone who can muster up some shred of sexiness in these, the most trying of times!”

Eve laughed and puffed out her chest; rubbing the backs of her fingers against them before idly examining her nails. “Fear not, my friend! For though I have no credentials in the name of practicing ‘sexiness’ I do have a law degree, which certifies me in the art of exaggeration and when justice calls upon me to do so; lying out my ass.” She reached out and clasped my dripping hand; squeezing it dramatically between her own. “Together, I’m sure I can perpetuate _some_ minor facsimile of this thing you call ‘sexiness’.”

I laughed, reaching out with my spare hand to ruffle the top of her head. It was just like old times; the two of us joking and laughing out in the Wasteland. If not for the redness of her eyes you would hardly believe that there had been anything the matter to begin with.

“How about this,” I said. “You get behind me with the shampoo and lather up the top of my head? Give the good folks of New Vegas something to laugh about.”

Eve chuckled as she ducked out from under my hand. “Sounds good to me.” She said, cupping both hands into the water and then carefully pouring some over the crown of my head. After this, she picked up the shampoo bottle from nearby and squeezed a large, golden dollop into the center of her palm. She lathered up a big, frothy dome on top of my bald skull. “Shame my face’ll ruin the shot. Lookin’ all red and blotchy and boo-hooey.”

“Don’t be silly.” I said dopily, my eyes almost fluttering shut at the feeling of her hands on the top of my head. I wanted to pull a more comical expression for the picture but it had been many, many years since someone had given me a head massage. Shit felt _way_ too good. Could have slipped into a coma at any moment and been none the wiser. “Ya look beautiful as always. And besides, who would notice with this paragon of perfection and manliness frothing in the tub right in front of you?”

Eve smirked and reached across my shoulder to slap me a foamy high five. “True dat.” She said, the both of us laughing as the flash of the camera stole across our bodies. The photographer smiled as he slid the polaroid out from the base of the camera and held it between his fingers as he agitated it.

“Now, I hope I’m not being rude, because I know who _you_ are of course, Mayor Hancock.” He gestured towards Eve with the photograph. “Am I to assume that you, my dear, are the mayor’s… spouse?”

Eve dithered a little, clearly uncertain as to how to answer. I can’t imagine the use of the word ‘spouse’ was of much help to her either; it signified a great deal of commitment in a relationship, which she probably didn’t feel comfortable establishing on my behalf. As she proceeded to stutter awkwardly beside my ear, I decide to put her out of her misery.

“If by _spouse_ you mean _partner,_ than yeah.” I said, taking one of Eve’s hands from the top of my head. I searched for an unsoapy portion and pressed my lips against it. “This is my girl. Eve Hallows.”

“Oh, how lovely.” The photographer beamed, whipping a small notepad out of a pocket unseen and magicking out a pen from some other equally mysterious void. He quickly scribbled down some information. So, a reporter then. Not _just_ a photographer. “Have the two of you been together long?”

So, suddenly it was an interview. And here I was, my first official interview with the press, sitting in a cold tub of soapy water in the middle of the town center like a big old tool. And the question now threw me just as much as the earlier one had Eve. How long could I saw we had officially been together? A few _hours?_ Jesus, that sounded fucking pathetic. I didn’t want people thinking that Eve was just my ‘random squeeze’. But I didn’t feel comfortable inferring something of our time together that she might not necessarily have agreed with.

Lucky for me, Eve came to the rescue just as I had earlier with her. “Over a year now.” She said, draping her arms across my shoulders and around my neck from behind. She smiled down at me so warmly it sent a tremor of emotion through my chin. Because I knew that this was not her simply trying to make things sound ‘better’ for the reporters sake. She truly saw us as having been in a relationship for all that time we had been travelling together. Which wasn’t the least dishonest, when you thought about it. “John saved me from being exploited by someone here in town. How could I not fall head over heels for someone like that?”

She ducked her head down and kissed me; the both of us shutting our eyes and simply sinking into one another’s lips. I cupped my hand to the side of her face, held her there as the crowd around us gave off various noises of delight. A myriad assortment of ‘aww’s’ and a few soft little claps. I heard the click of the camera, though saw no flash what with my eyes being shut. Didn’t matter none to me. Take as many photo’s as you like, brother. Show the whole damn world what the two of us have.

“Well, thank goodness for that!” The Reporter exclaimed, as Eve and I finally separated. “I was afraid we’d have another year with Mayor Hancock _still_ not having settled down! Shooting couples photo’s is _so_ much more uplifting than those I had of you throwing up into the piano, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

Oh god, so I _had_ met this guy at some point. My memory was shocking these days. To be fair, we only had the crew from New Vegas come out every two years, so it’s not as though I remembered a great deal of them by name or face. Not that I was rude enough to let on.

“Not at all. I’m a lucky guy.” I said, smiling up at Eve as I massaged the backs of her fingers. “I mean, just look at her. She’s smart, funny, beautiful, courageous…” I tilted my head towards her gently; knowing what it was she was needing to hear and furthermore what _I_ needed to say. Something I had been working over in my heart in all the months we had travelled together. “She’s the love of my life.”

She stared at me, clearly overwhelmed and her eyes awning so wide it was a wonder they didn’t pop out and land in the bathtub. I turned away from her fish like expression and directed my attention towards not only the Reporter but to the whole of Goodneighbor, fuck it, the _world_ in general. A part of me hoped that somehow, these words would make their way back to Marowski. A show of defiance; wrought from a genuine declaration of love and loyalty.

“I love this girl more with every second that passes. Ain’t _nothin’_ ever gonna change that.”

Eve finally managed to gather herself and she turned, teary eyed to flash one of her lovely smiles towards the reporter.

“And I love him.” She said, her voice cracking with emotion before she leaned down, cupped my cheek and kissed me once more. She spoke then in a whisper; clearly intending these words to be for my benefit more than the reporter’s and the idle, milling crowds. “More than _anything_ in this goddamn world…”

I chuckled as I gestured down towards the tub. “Figured that was a given. Seein’ as how ya gave my decrepit old ass a bath right out here for everyone to see.”

Eve smirked as she kissed the upper ridge of my nasal cavity. “Please. Ya got the cutest tooshie in all the Wasteland. Was a pleasure and a delight.”

The crowd disintegrated into stupid sounding ‘aww’s and the like as she kissed me again; apparently delighted to either see their Mayor in such a good place, or just amazed that such love could exist between a crazy Ghoul and an even crazier bathrobe donning dame.

“And… Ms Hallows?” The Reporter tenderly queried as Eve broke our kiss and turned her attention back towards him. “I take it you’ll be on Mayor Hancock’s arm tomorrow night, for the Christmas party?”

Eve looked down at me; seeking validation that she really didn’t need to be in doubt over. “If that… is where Mayor Hancock _wants_ me to be…”

“Don’t be daft, where _else_ would I want you?” I scolded, before then leaning up close to her ear and adopting a smooth, sultry tone as I added. “ _Other than stranded in an abandoned wood cabin, rubbed down with oil and stretched out naked in front of a fire on Yaoi Gua skin rug-”_

Eve’s smile was effervescent as she shot her elbow into my upper arm, eliciting a yelp from me in turn.

“Well. Seems like you _will_ be seeing me tomorrow night then.” She said, smiling beautifully at the Reporter as I sat there, soapy and sulky and rubbing at what was likely to be a nice big bruise on my arm. “Extreme, unpredictable circumstances notwithstanding.”

“ _\- nothing to drink but copious amounts of Scotch and wine and nothing to eat but each other-”_

Eve snorted, trying to control her laughter and elbowed me again. “Stop it!”

The reporter smiled, allowing the camera to swing from the strap about his neck as he clapped his hands together with genuine enthusiasm.

“Oh, wonderful! I cannot _wait_ to get a shot of the two of you together!” He gestured almost grandiosely in Eve’s direction. “You are a photographer’s _dream_ darling! Such exquisite cheek bones!”

“Yes, well, just keep in mind that the camera _adds_ ten pounds. If you can, please just shoot me from here up –” Eve said, indicating from just an inch or so below her breasts and gesturing upward from there. “– and that should keep everyone happy.”

I quirked my brow at her uncertainly. “Darlin’, the camera _adds_ ten pounds than we’re gonna have a rapid influx of googly eyed idiots come visitin’ from Vegas next year; lookin’ for the Mayor’s _Spouse_ and the twin planets she’s currently smuggling in her dress.” She slapped the back of her hand over the spot that she had just finished elbowing. “Just sayin’!”

“Yeah, well you keep sayin’ it and I’ll be marching myself off to Dr Sun to get a reduction.” Eve snapped snottily, pointing down towards her chest in what was a clear and entirely unwarranted threat. Shit, this was the strangest hostage situation I had ever been a part of. “I don’t care _how_ much you like these melons.”

I realized I was in dangerous territory and with nothing to negotiate with, decided that the wisest course of action was to back down.

“Now, let’s all just remain calm.” I said and with such sincerity it immediately spurred a chuckle from both Eve and the Reporter. “There’s no reason to start making threats.”

“Only a man would consider his woman talking about getting a breast reduction a _threat._ ” Eve muttered, kneeling back down beside the tub and picking up a towel. “Right. I think we’ve given the troops enough entertainment for the day. What say we get you out and dry you off?” She lowered her voice into a whisper. _“If you can manage such a thing whilst maintaining your dignity.”_

I laughed as I leaned close, casting my eyes back towards the crowd of milling people. I had a little thought as to how we could round this whole thing off.

 _“Hey, let’s work ‘em a little more, huh?_ ” I whispered, taking the smile that stretched out across her own lips as a sign of consent. _“In a minute, I’m gonna stand up and stretch. Act like you weren’t expecting it and, at the last second, use the towel to cover up my dick. Savvy?”_

Eve smothered another burst of laughter. “You’re putting a lot of faith in my poor reflexes. This goes wrong and you potentially scar a shit load of future voters.”

“I’d like to think I’d get a lot more of the female vote but to each their own.” I gestured towards the towel. “ _Okay, get ready. When you hear me move, swoop in._ ”

Eve winked and gave a small, barely perceptible nod as she readied the towel between both hands; pulling it taut. When I saw that she was ready, I wriggled myself into position and, with a pained grunt, managed to quickly push myself to my feet. I thrust my arms high into the air, giving an overly dramatic stretch; the kind you might have seen someone bust out in a play. Eve played her part by gasping in a very over the top manner and quickly whipping the towel out to cover my groin, just as it cleared the bubbles. This was just the finale the crowd had been waiting for and they laughed and clapped their appreciation as Eve clambered to her feet and wound the towel about my waist; tucking in one of the corners so that it remained in place. I took her hand in my own, gave her a little look and then swept my arm out in front of myself; ducking forward into a deep bow. Eve swept one foot behind the other, held out the hem of her dressing gown and offered an extravagant curtsy. More claps. They really must have thought we’d been putting on a show. All the better. It would preserve Eve’s dignity some.

I smiled and clapped my soapy, wet hands at the gathered guests. “Okay everyone, shows over. Return to your homes, abodes, alleyways, whatever.” I turned quickly and gestured towards Nick, who continued to hold Dogmeat at bay just off to the side. “Except you, Valentine. Want to run a couple of things past you. Just give me… five minutes?”

Nick gave a shallow nod, one of his brows inching up curiously towards his forehead. “Fine. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

I quickly scooped up my clothes from the pavement and reached out again to take Eve by the hand. She took hold of me complicity and followed along as I led her over towards the State house.

“Let’s pop inside a moment.” I said, opening the door and gesturing for her to step on through. Once over the threshold myself, I asked if Frank and Reggie could give us a moment alone and they trailed out through the still open door obediently. I shut it behind them and then let out a whoosh of air, whipping the towel off from around my waist and starting to dry myself with it.

It occurred to me that this would have been only the second time Eve had seen me entirely naked. The first had been Wanderer’s Respite, though we hadn’t been together in the romantic sense then. It amazed me still that I could be so relaxed as to allow her to see me like this. She certainly didn’t seem to mind the view; her eyes drifted up and down my body and she made a point to lean to the side as I dried my legs. Checking out my ass from behind. I whipped the towel lightly towards her; causing her to straighten up.

“Don’t objectify me, you pervert.” I said prudishly which made her giggle in response. After a moment, she sighed and put her hands on her hips; her laughter deepening into a thoughtful chuckle.

“Well… to quote Deacon: ‘ _That_ was a thing that happened’.”

“Yah ya’betcha.” I said, grinning at her as she realized I was taking off her North Dakotan accent and reached over to give me a slap to the wall of my back. I started to pull my clothes on; beginning with my pants before then retying my sash and slipping my feet into my socks. “You feeling okay, chicken?”

She laughed awkwardly; running her hand back through her hair. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” Her expression rang of gratitude as she picked up my shirt from the floor and helped fit it back over my head. The palm of her hand briefly caressed my cheek. “Thank you. I know you did what you did to bail me out. And I’m so grateful.” She gave a low, sad sounding sigh. “I really… embarrassed myself out there, huh?”

I made a dismissive sound through my teeth as I fed my arms through the sleeves of the shirt. “Oh, I don’t think so. Town like Goodneighbor? Plenty more embarrassing stuff to be seen.” I pulled the shirt down over my midsection before balancing on one foot at a time in order to fit my boots on. “Besides, the only thing folks’ll be remembering now is the Mayor stripping his kit off and having a bath in the middle of the street. No one’s gonna care much about you having a teary.”

She tilted her head to the side and tutted her acknowledgement; though she still didn’t seem entirely at peace with the situation.

“Yeah.” She said, making a distraction for herself by realigning the halves of her dressing gown and then tightening the knot in the cord. “Yeah, you uh… really pulled my chestnuts out of the fire.”

Silence fell between us then, as I finished with my boots and plopped my hat back onto my head. I bundled up the towel and placed it on the floor; intending to run it downstairs to one of the washer’s when I had a moment. Eve naturally knelt to pick it up; seeing that it wasn’t perhaps folded to her exacting standards but I put a hand out to stop her. She paused, fingers clutching one of the corners and eyes wide and staring intensely. I wrapped my fingers around her wrist and with my remaining hand, gently rubbed the small of her back.

“It’s okay.” I said, turning ever closer, tighter circles. Rubbing the vein lines in her wrist. Reassuring. “You can stop now.”

And so, the walls crashed down with merciless impunity; sending fragments piercing through her mind and flooding her eyes with tears once more. Her lips trembled, her breaths coming short and fast. Both hands pressed to the wracked canvas of her face as the sobs returned, pitching ever higher to the piercing, desperate wails of a broken soul. All that control she had maintained this long year; this charade, this avoidant cover had grown ever more brittle with the passing of days. My words had been spoken as softly as the tender tap of a fingertip to the curve of a child’s shoulder. But this was all the force it took to break apart the fragile, paper thin barriers Eve had erected about her heart and mind.

I took her into my arms, fought away the panging complaints of my hip and legs and lifted her; one hand tucked beneath her knees. I carried her to the stairwell and perched upon it; rubbing her shoulder, petting her backside gently. Whispering soft utterances against her ear. The standard ‘ _there, there’s’_ and ‘ _I’m here’s’_. I didn’t tell her to ‘ _shhh_ ’. I didn’t tell her it was ‘ _going to be okay’_. She didn’t need to be quietened down; repressing this shit was what had made her so unwell in the first place. She needed to get it out; much like the poison of the Stingwing that had infiltrated her body all those months ago. And what an offense to tell that everything was ‘going to be okay’. The last thing she needed was for her grief to be denigrated.

“I’m… sorry!!” She blurted from between miserable sobs and hiccups. I could feel the heat of her breath on my neck; her tears beading against my flesh. Her fists clenched to my shirt; not dissimilar to how Meaghan held to Meyer. “I’m so… I’m _so sorry!!_ I’m so sorry!!”

This time, I did shush her because _these_ words were not helpful. “Don’t apologize.” I whispered, clutching the back of her head and pressing my lips to her forehead. I loosed a finger to wipe at my own eyes; not wanting her to see me crying. Seeing her like this… it _hurt._ Worse than anything I had ever experienced. “You have _nothing_ to be sorry for. You hear me? _Nothing._ ”

She sniffed and snuffled, her fingers flexing against my chest. “I… I wanted to tell you… but I thought if I did… something terrible would happen.” Her arm came up and slid over my shoulder, pulling herself tighter against me. “I didn’t want anything to happen to you – or – or Goodneighbor!! I couldn’t _live_ with myself if-”

I gave her a somewhat firm smack to the backside. Because _this_ sort of talk was _really_ annoying. “That _wasn’t_ your responsibility, sweetheart. _None_ of that should have ever been put on you.” I rocked her gently from side to side; as though she were a small child in need of soothing after waking from a nightmare. “I’m here. You just… get it all out. No one here but me. Cry as long and as hard as you need to.”

She did just this; for likely the better part of the following five minutes. Awful tears. Painful, heart wrenching sobs and wails. An expression of pure, unadulterated, intensely fermented pain given form. I knew it well. It had soaked my own soul all those many years ago. Been my constant, searing companion since the moment I had awakened in that dark room, with that tight, blinking collar about my neck.

I just held her. Pulled her tight to me and rocked her in my lap. Pressed my lips to her forehead, her temple, eyes, anywhere on her face I could reach. Caressed her hair. Reminded her she was safe. She was with me. I loved her.

“Did you… see the pictures?” She eventually whimpered and I was forced in turn to swallow back that thick slab of rancorous meat that rose up in my throat. The sickness that pervaded my body whenever my mind flashed back to those terrible, evil keepsakes.

“I did.”

Eve groaned, tilting her head back so that her red, swollen eyes swung upwards in their sockets towards the ceiling. “I never wanted _anyone_ to see them. You, especially. To see me like that. To see how… fucking _weak_ I am.”

“Hey.” I said, gently reprimanding as I cupped her cheek and forced her eyes to drop down and bore into my own. “You are as _far_ from weak as a person could ever be, Eve. What you did took major guts. There wasn’t nothin’ _weak_ in what you did.”

Her body heaved with those dwindling bursts of pain; her hand gripping to the back of my own with a fundamental sense of desperation.

“I just… I _hate_ myself for letting it happen.” She murmured, tears dropping from her lower lashes like tiny beads of dew. I used my thumb to gently caress them aside. “But I was so _scared_. I had no idea how much power Marowski might have had. I didn’t want to… have a debt like that following me around the Commonwealth, so I just –” Her eyes squinted close together. Hatefully. An expression of unforgiving self-loathing directed inward. “I _sold_ myself. I sold myself like a goddamn…”

“Whore?”

She moaned softly, realizing I think, that she hadn’t thought her words out in an altogether sensitive manner. Given what I had openly confessed to being all those years ago.

“I’m sorry…” She said, rubbing her fingers over the back of my hand; caressing and soothing as I myself had been trying to soothe her. “I’m _sorry_ I didn’t mean to make it sound like… I think I’m any better. I didn’t mean that you or… any of the others… who-”

Her guilt could be as adorable as it was self-destructive and served just as little purpose. Because of course I hadn’t taken any offense. That wasn’t the kind of guy I was. I told her enough with the light smile I directed down at her; rubbing my thumb gently across her cheek again as I uttered a soft ‘ _shhh’_ from between my lips.

“It’s okay. Don’t apologize.” I said, with a small self-debilitating chuckle at my own expense. “You’re not wrong. I _was_ a whore. I sold my body. But a whore sells their body for _profit_ , darlin’; _that’s_ the difference. Back then, I’d do just about anything within reason to get my hit. Nothing mattered. I had no self-esteem, I didn’t give a shit about anything but the huff, or the pinch, or the puff.” I petted the side of her hip with my hand. “ _You’re_ the exact _opposite_. _You_ sacrificed your body for the benefit of you son. To ensure the safety of the people you were travelling with. That’s not a whore. That’s courageous.” I felt my eyes tearing over and it took massive restraint not to just give in to own despair and cry right along with her. _Come on, hold it together. She needs your strength._ “And… seeing what he did to you… I couldn’t love or respect you more for what you suffered. I just… hate that you _ever_ had to go through something like that.”

Eve groaned softly; annoyed as her eyes steered themselves back towards the ceiling again. “I set the whole thing in motion by stealing from him. If I hadn’t ambushed that fucking chem deal-”

I felt the rage flair up inside of me again. Of course… she still didn’t _know_ just what Marowski had done in dealing outside of Goodneighor. She was still of the opinion that she had rambled up on a legitimately authorized transaction and put her hand out for the mugs share. The fact that she in some way thought herself accountable- _no- deserving_ of her mistreatment! It made my blood boil to such a degree I thought it would burn my bones from my body.

“You didn’t steal from Marowski.” I stated firmly, feeling my lips press together tight about each word. I was surprised I could speak, my jaw was pinched so tight. “Marowski stole from _me._ ”

Eve naturally stared at me in confusion, not understanding the full story. And though I knew it would hurt her, to discover that her selfless, fearless sacrifice had been for naught, I simply refused to allow her to hold herself to account for any of this anymore. This poor girl needed to be set free from her tasteful yet pointless standards.

“Marowski has consent only to sell Chems within the walls of Goodneighbor.” I explained, using my thumb to trace circles against her cheek. I pressed tight to her hip with my other hand, rocking back and forth to lull her as much as was possible. “A set percentage of the profits are allocated to the town coughers in the form of standardized taxes. If Marowski wanted to set up a deal outside of Goodneighbor, the details would have to go through me first. So that I could negotiate a certain percentage of the accumulated profit to be received by the town coughers. I had no knowledge of any deal existing with some no-name punk from Diamond City.” I drummed my fingers lightly against her side. “ _That’s_ why I got so short with you earlier. I wasn’t cross with _you_. It’s because I realized that Marowski has been stealing from me. From the town.”

Eve’s eyes widened with distress. To say she looked shocked would be discrediting the depth of the expression entirely. She was… horrified.

“You mean…?”

I shook my head, hating how my words were making her feel. Further hating how her pain radiated through my being in the very same breath. “He had _no right_ holding you to account for _anything._ That money didn’t belong to him. _He’s_ the thief, not _you._ ”

For a moment, she said nothing. Did nothing. Just stared at me; eyes shimmering from behind their seemingly ever-present wall of tears, lips spaced apart slightly. And then, a soft moan emanated out from between them and the tears dropped down, flowing in a steady stream as she collapsed back against my chest. She cried for country; fingers twitching spasmodically across my shirt, her legs curling up so her body near formed a circle of itself.

“No… oh my God, oh my _God_!!” She wailed, her fist banging at my chest. Not hard enough to hurt, though I wouldn’t have cared none if it had. She was just trying to get it all out. Trying to deal with her grief in whatever way she could. “That bastard!! That fucking _BASTARD!!_ ”

“I’ll get the money back.” I promised, wrapping my arms tighter about her and pulling her closer to my chest. I was forced to speak through my own strangled sobs; that wanted ever so desperately to escape. My chest hurt so much, I was finding it a near impossible task to accomplish. “I’ll find where he’s hiding it and put it back in your pocket. He’s already taken more from you than he was ever entitled to.”

“It’s not… that!!” Eve bawled, staring up at me with such despair that I felt my bones weaken in the presence of it. “I sold… I sold Nate’s _ring._ I _sold_ it to try and get all the caps by the end of that first week!!”

I felt my brows crease down and I wondered if I had ever felt as deeply sorry and wounded on anyone’s behalf in my entire life. No _wonder_ she was crying.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

“I sold it to Daisy. She gave me seven hundred caps for it!” Eve moaned, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. God knows why she bothered because the tears just kept on coming. “I knew Nate would… would understand that I… I needed to do what I had to. To keep Marowski’s goons off my back but now… to find out he had no rights to that money at all?!” She gave up on trying to tidy up her face and just collapsed back into me, sobbing wretchedly. Beyond the point of comfort. “ _He made me sell Nate’s ring, John!! Nate’s_ ring!! _That bastard – oh my god, oh my god…”_

My sadness was once more compounded by bristling anger, though I did my best to bridle it for the moment. It took a moment to pull myself together, but I managed it. I reminded myself that my touch towards Eve needed to be gentle right now. I couldn’t let any of that contempt harden my hands or thicken my voice. She required softness, as much as I was possibly capable of.

“I’ll see if Daisy still has a hold of it. I’ll buy it back for ya if that’s what it takes.”

“Don’t bother.” Eve sniffed, though not unkindly. She took a moment to audibly swallow before continuing. “I already went back to try and re-buy it. When I got a bit of money from some of the jobs I pulled out there. But she’d… already sold it.”

And I bet she’d be sorry for it too; if she had known of the circumstances surrounding the pawning of the ring in the first place. Poor Daisy. It would have broken her heart to know that she had played some part in this whole tragedy; no matter how small.

“I’ll find out who.” I said, pressing my lips to her forehead again. Combing back her hair so I could apply a more direct kiss. “Maybe I can track them down, buy it back off of them.”

“No.” Eve said firmly, an answer that surprised me given her obvious upset concerning the sale of the ring. I looked to her curiously as she turned from my chest, having another go at cleaning up her face. She wiped a few tears away with the heel of her hand before taking a deep breath and slowly staggering the exhale. “Don’t bother. I hate that Marowski pushed me to it, but that ring… it’s just a relic of the past.” Her eyes found the ceiling once more. It must have looked comforting up there, perhaps. Distant. Distance creates perspective, as they say. “Nate… doesn’t need it anymore. And all it would have done was hold me back.”

“But you should never have been placed in a position where you felt you had to give up something that meant so much to you.”

She nodded her agreement. “It was… horrible. I cried so much that night… but… if I still had the ring, I’d just be dragging a reminder of all that grief around with me.” It was a shake of her head she gave this time. “Not having it… helped me to let go. To move on and not get bogged down in the past. How could I ever hope to get anything done if my mind and body was consumed with… losing Nate?”

“I understand that. But it should have been left up to _you_ to decide when and how you were going to take that next step.” I stated, moving my arm down to cup about her shoulders. I rubbed her through the warm, soft material of the dressing gown; no doubt something offered up by Meaghan whilst she’d been dressing her up earlier. “Marowski forced that on you. You’d only _been_ in the Commonwealth for what? Two months? Your husband’s death would have still been fresh to you.”

“I know.” She sniffed. Looking down and away from me now. I was starting to miss the full intensity of her eyes upon mine. _Please Eve, just_ look _at me. Let me see into your soul and know that you’re okay._ “I know. I’ll never forgive him for it. Not ever.”

I felt my lip hitch up on one side; the hatred piercing through before I could catch it. “One more reason I’m gonna stave the miserable bastard’s head in when I catch him.”

Her eyes finally found mine again. They looked luminescent behind that line of tears suspended upon their surface. “You didn’t find him?”

I shook my head, hating that I couldn’t have given her better news. That the bastard was no more and she was forever safe and beyond his reach.

“No, babe. He’s gone to ground. Hiding out.”

“Oh shit.” Eve murmured, pressing her fist to her mouth and shaking her head urgently. “Oh shit, shit, shit, _shit._ He’s gonna try something. Something to hurt you and the people in the town. I _know_ it. That evil, bitter son of a bitch!!”

I murmured another hopefully calming ‘ _ssshhh’_ as I lifted my palm to rub the back of her head once more.

“Darlin’, I don’t want you worrying about any of that shit anymore. It wasn’t something you should ever have been shackled with the responsibility of.” I made good and sure she was looking me in the eyes before I continued speaking. Truly taking on board my words and their ascribed meaning. “Fahrenheit should _never_ have asked that of you. Don’t get me wrong; what you did was moral and decent and courageous. You’re the bravest person I know for what you’ve endured. But you didn’t owe me or this town _anything._ That’s the great injustice of it all.”

I thought her gaze very fierce and one that she probably wasn’t used to being argued with when making a point. “You stabbed Finn for me.”

I chuckled and nodded gently; hoping I wouldn’t offend her. “Yes. And I’ve stabbed plenty of other bastards who tried to extort any number or random people who wandered into town.” I smiled and clucked my fingers over the tip of her nose. “Much as I love you _now,_ I didn’t set out to make a special exception at the time. You put too much emphasis on my reasons.”

Eve sighed, looking impatient. “It’s not like I thought you considered me to be special in any way, it’s just… you were kind. You were always so kind to me.”

I shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, I’m not an altogether uncharitable guy. Keep in mind that I was also trying to get in your pants.” I couldn’t help but snort a little at the expression this statement brought to her face. Typical over exaggeration of offense. “Nice guys don’t always have to finish last, you know.”

Even she couldn’t keep from laughing at this one. Loved that her sense of humor was just as perverted as my own.

“Yeah, well… figured that much already.” She gave such a sweet little roll of her shoulder, face so very uncertain. “But still… I didn’t feel like I had any right to do something that might potentially trigger off a war. It could have ruined so many people’s lives. _Taken_ so many people’s lives.”

“Fuck, no wonder you’re such a mess.” I groaned, running my hand back through her hair. Felt the last of the anger leave me. “That’s more pressure than anyone oughta be walkin’ around with. Let alone someone like you; with so much shit of your own to deal with already.” I pulled her tight against me again, continuing to rock and pet her. “You’ve done enough, darlin’. _More_ than enough. I should be the one apologizing to you and not the other way around. I thought I had a firm handle on this town and then I find out all this shits been going on.” I moved quickly, glad she couldn’t see as I wiped away the tears that had escaped from my own eyes. “It’s my town that wounded you.”

Eve gave a low, almost irritated sounding sigh. It felt it wisp between the halves of my shirt and light upon my chest like a warm breeze.

“It was Marowski, not the town.”

“I know. But Marowski’s a _part_ of this town. I _let_ him be a part of this town. Should’ve fucking dealt with the bastard years ago; ‘stead of letting him do what he’s done.” I peered out over her tangled head of hair; staring into a distant memory. Marowski staring up at me from that bed. The startled eyes of that young girl peering from beneath him. Beseeching help, maybe? Who knows? All I really cared for was the fact that I had caught a potentially dangerous enemy out. The girl had been leverage. I’d cared little for her part in the whole matter. A victim, regardless of consent. Too young. Far too young… “He had a scrapbook where he kept all the pictures, Eve. There were so many women in there.” I paused a moment, wondering whether I ought to say more but reasoned the information would get back to her regardless. Least I could do, was spare her some of the shock. “Meaghan was in there too.”

Eve flinched back from my chest, mouth draping open again.

“No… no way! Not recently?”

“No. In the time prior to the coup. Before she and Meyer got together.”

“Did he rape her?”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t seem like it. I think she… needed money from what I could gather. It was after her father had been killed.” I glanced to the side, having a sudden thought that wouldn’t surprise me in the least if I discovered it to be true. “Probably _by_ Marowski’s Triggermen, no doubt. He would have had his eye on her, nothing surer. Figured it was a good way to get his hands on her.”

Eve let out a hiss like an angry cat. “Evil opportunistic _prick_! Hasn’t got the balls to go after folks the old-fashioned way, he’s gotta go after us gals who are messed up and confused. He’s a gutless fucking wonder.”

“Nothing surer.”

She turned and looked up at me; eyes sparking sudden fear. “What did you do with _my_ photos?”

“Tore ‘em up and set ‘em on fire.” I said, distributing what I hoped was a comforting pat to her backside. “Sorry babe. I know I should have let you decide what you wanted to do with them but-”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you burned the horrible things.” She murmured, using her thumb to rub about her eyes. It looked like she was done crying for the time being. The emotional jaunt had left her looking exhausted though. “S’what I would have done too.”

“And, if it helps, no one but me saw ‘em.” I added, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. She leaned in, sighing softly. Not altogether happy.

“Only you and _Marowski_.” She murmured, pressing her lips together tightly. Eyes lifting once more. God, if only her constitution would soon follow. “I wish that… I wish _you_ never had to see them either. Seeing me like that, all messed up.” Her chin trembled as she fought to contain yet another fresh wave of tears. I rocked her a little more; not caring if she still needed to cry but still wishing there wasn’t a reason for her to do so. “How will you _not_ be able to _think_ of them – to see them in your _head_ – the first time we make love?”

I knew the question must have passed through her mind. Because it had crossed my own as well. Probably makes me sound cruel to even admit to it but the concern did not come from any thoughts pertaining to her body and my supposed ‘disgust’ in associating it with the pictures. I knew full well that I still desired her; the photographs had no impact on that. What worried me was the… state of _her_ mind. The fear of either triggering the memory of the last time she had been engaged in a… sex act or my own fear resulting in major inhibitions. I couldn’t get the image of her bloodied, torn vagina out of my head. For so long, I had imagined what it would be like to make love to her. To go down on her and kiss and suck and lick that sweet space between her legs. Now, it was hard to shake the image of blood and cum and… god knows what else. Shit, Eve was right… my desire was still there but the images were _intrusive._ Not because I felt disgust for her but because I felt _empathy._ I didn’t want to _hurt her…_

I ran my hand across her cheek and looked her in the eyes. Remembering our friendship; our true and solid friendship that had stood the test of this long, arduous year. We had been prepared to die together, rather than desert the other for our own sakes. A relationship like this is not forged through shallow means of half-truths and misappropriations of reality. Eve might have kept one very big secret from me but I knew her well enough to understand that the things she had felt during our travels; her emotions, her stories, her struggles, were all offered up to me in unerring trust and honesty. And I in turn had told her things I had never told another living person. Fuck, there were dead people I’d likely managed to keep such secrets from.

Now was no exception. Being my lover did not make her exempt from being my still trusted and much respected partner. She was still the same woman I had travelled with this past year. She was tearful and struggling certainly but I _knew_ who Eve was. And this was the one person I would never disrespect with anything but the absolute, unequivocal truth.

“I’m not going to lie and pretend like the images won’t flash through my mind on occasion.” I said, unconsciously seeing the photographs traipse across my brain even as I said it. I shook them aside and refocused my attention on Eve. “It might even happen the first time we’re together. But I don’t intend to let Marowski ruin what I feel for you. Neither you nor I will let him win. The first time we make love, the only two people invited to the party are _you_ and _me._ He doesn’t get a free pass to muzzle in on the VIP section. You understand?”

She actually managed a small smile at this and it was amazing just how much it warmed my heart to see her looking slightly more cheerful. “Heh. Maybe you should get Ham to stand guard outside the bedroom?”

I chuckled at this myself. “Poor guy. Bad enough what Jack’s had to put up with all of these years.” I made a show out of gasping and blithering back over my words. “Not that I’ve, uh, been with anyone but you.”

She laughed and flashed a wink. “That’s right. You’re still a virgin if I remember correctly.”

“Of course.” I said, nodding seriously. “Ma was a Catholic. You know us Catholic’s don’t boink before marriage.”

“Heh. You must have yourself a shitload of wives by now.” Eve joked, though her expression soon became serious again. She fiddled with one of the buttons on my shirt idly. Seeking a distraction, no doubt. “You know, I know it sounds stupid but… I thought you would… hate me for it. Because he… he got there first and-”

I held up a finger sharply and pressed the tip of it lightly to her lips. “Stop. There is no _getting there first._ Getting _where_ first?” I returned my finger to the curl of my hand; which I then dropped to cup beneath her jaw. “He didn’t show you _love._ He abused you. What he did to you is not anything _I_ would feel envious of.”

Her eyes brimmed once more with tears as she continued to beseech me from beyond that wall of self-deprecation “Won’t it make you feel dirty though? Knowing that he… did those things?” She bumbled over her words; struggling with how to best say it. “That he… _came_ in me?”

I stroked my thumb over her lips, looking her ever more firmly in the eyes. “Darling. Do _you_ feel dirty, knowing what those two bastards from the _Rolling Ranch_ did to _me_? Both of them came inside me. On my back. One of ‘em even got me on my face.” I tilted my head, giving her a pointed look from beneath my lowered brows. “Do you think _I’m_ dirty?”

Of course, she shook her head immediately. “Of course not. You _know_ I don’t.”

“Then why would I think any different of you?” I said, hearing a note of impatience creeping into my voice and doing my best to stamp out any other hints that might seep through. “The only thing _I’m_ concerned with, is _you._ Your welfare, your heart and mind and body.” I turned my palm in a hopefully soothing circle across her hip, wanting to know. _Needing_ to know. “How bad were you hurting?”

“Afterwards, you mean?” She asked, taking a few moments to consider. I think she might have been looking for a means to phrase herself so that the knowledge wouldn’t hurt me so badly. Whilst still preserving our unspoken vow to always and forever act in trust and faith towards one another. “Took a… few weeks before it stopped hurting completely. The Stimpak’s helped. And I went to the settlement doctors for some shots of Med-X to help with the pain where possible.” Her lip curled irritably. “Got a urinary tract infection a few days after the… attack. Doctor Amari gave me some antibiotics for that though. Got rid of it reasonably quick.”

“Were you frightened about getting pregnant?” A hard question but one which I’m sure most women would concern themselves with following a rape. And she had said earlier that Marowski hadn’t bothered to use protection; the lousy, sick _fuck…_

“I was terrified.” She said, her voice somehow strong and stable against all pretences. Given the level of fear she had no doubt experienced it wouldn’t have surprised me were she to succumb to tears once more, but she quite surprisingly seemed to be steady out as we spoke. Guess to me the news was fresh but she herself had been forced to work through the trauma for over a year now. “But… Amari gave me the morning after pill, which is highly effective. Still scared though. Just about threw a party when my period came, finally.” She gave a small, adorable sniff. “I think if that asshole had gotten me pregnant, I might have ended up killing myself.”

I shook my head so violently it just about dislodged my hat from my skull. I couldn’t deny anything ever the more vehemently. “No. _Never_. You would have told me first and I would have arranged for you to have a termination.” I kissed her between the eyes, on her eyelids, each of her cheeks. “You’re more valuable. I wouldn’t let that bastard’s evil destroy you, not ever.”

Because of course, what did it matter to me to help Eve do away with the unwanted pregnancy of a man who had violated her? What did I care for the life of an unseeing, oblivious child that had been conceived in such evil circumstances? Fortunately, I’d never been in a position where I’d known of my own child to be… aborted. If such a thing had happened, I had no knowledge of it. Probably better that way. But I had taken Fahrenheit to the doctor and held her hand whilst she had… Jesus… I think it was upward of five terminations? All the worse because she was _on_ birth control to try and prevent this very thing from happening but the Chems and the alcohol often compromised the effectiveness of the pill. And she was heavily addicted at the time. With all the abuse she suffered, there was really no room to judge either.

I remember once having suggested that she undergo the operation to sterilize herself; have her… tubes tied or whatever. She had refused. Because she didn’t want to permanently close off the option of having children in the future. She would rather risk repeating this terrible pattern; over and over and over again. Until the surgeries, terminations and constant rape and abuse finally destroyed that very thing that she worked so hard to preserve…

Eve’s lip trembled as she gazed out into the abyss; back into that ancient past I could no sooner follow than attempt to perceive. “The terrible thing is… I know I could go through it too. I thought I could never go through another termination but the idea of having _his_ child…” She lowered her head, looking ashamed. An emotion she definitely needed to curb, given that the child was purely theoretical. “I know it would still be partially my child but how could I…” And the tears came again, her face scrunching up as her fingers reached for her eyes. Her lips wrenched miserably. “How could I love _anything_ that came to me in such a terrible way? It would RUIN my whole life!!”

I pulled her to me, kissing her forehead; increasing the rocking and gentle caresses with my hands. If you wonder why I hadn’t reacted more to her words, it’s because her past abortion wasn’t at all news to me. Over a few drinks one night on the trail, she had told me all about her first pregnancy. That it was… ectopic? Something about the fertilized egg being lodged somewhere it shouldn’t have been. Termination had been her only choice, otherwise both she and the child would have died, so I suppose this spared her guilt in some measure. Not that guilt was a helpful emotion in the least. Especially in a situation such as this.

“You don’t have to feel guilty for having those thoughts.” I whispered, patting my hand firmly to her hip. “It’s _your_ body. _You_ make the decisions concerning it. No one else.” I lowered my lips to her ear, wanting to make well and sure she couldn’t miss what words I next spoke. “And I’m always in your corner, no matter what. The rest of the world can think what it wants but I’ll _never_ look down at you. To me, you are the first, last and only important, treasured thing. My world opens, divides and closes with you.”

I felt her sigh once more from within the safe cavern she had made of my chest.

“Just so you know, he… didn’t give me any diseases. I did a whole bunch of checks with Amari. Took a few months to know I was completely clear.”

“You must have been living a nightmare.” I murmured, trailing strands of her hair across my fingers as I tenderly cupped the back of her head. “God, I wish you’d told me, love.”

“Believe it or not, I’m _glad_ you and the others never knew.” She said, twisting her face about but keeping her temple pressed tight to my shirt. “I didn’t want to be treated like fine china; likely to break at the slightest rough handling. I just wanted to forget as much as I could. To feel normal. How would we have come to love each other as much as we have, without being our normal, uncompromised selves?” Her eyes turned towards me now, rather than the ceiling and she smiled as she reached up with one finger and tapped lightly to the ridge of my nasal cavity. “Would you have felt comfortable to have teased and tormented me as much as you did? To wrestle with me and flirt? To try to kiss me; to touch one another? To sleep in the same bed?”

I smiled knowingly, seeing her point and having no means to refute it. Yes, if I had known what she had experienced, I would likely have given her more space. Would have reigned in the jokes and flirtations. Been less of my true self. Exposed lesser still of the man that she had come to love. And in place of consideration, creating a cold and isolating distance in a time when all a wounded soul desires is comfort and closeness.

“I very much doubt it.” I said, hating that such a thing held such verity. But impressed still by Eve’s insight. She returned my smile; loving and yet sort of smug and superior in the same instance. Something I suppose most married women become adept in at some stage.

“You see. It _was_ better. Maybe not for it to have gone on as long as it did but…” She glanced down towards where her fingers continued to fiddle with the little button. “I thought that you might think I was… dishonest. Or that I didn’t trust you as much as you did me. Especially after you told me of your own experiences…”

I jiggled her on my lap. “Babe, you know me better than that. I ain’t that sensitive. I don’t take that sort of shit seriously. Your circumstances were very, _very_ distinct from my own. Had nothin’ ta do with trust. It came from a better place than that.”

Eve smiled, wiping away the last of her tears as she eased herself up; pressing her lips to mine. It was slow but tender; mouths only very slightly open so as to signify the deepening intimacy between us. It went on for a while; the two of us caught up with one another and the complexity of the feelings stirring within. The feel of her body, her lips, her kiss… Once, I had only imagined I could experience such things in congruency with physical passion. To me, it signified only the unification of body, of desire. But this… there was nothing in this moment that aroused me. This was what love was. You could comfort someone through the act of kissing. It was not sexually exclusive.

She broke the kiss, her forehead pressing briefly to my chin before she tucked herself back in close to my chest. Curling up. Cuddling.

“God… I love you _so_ much.” She whispered, wrapping her arm back around my shoulder and hugging me hard and tight to her. Though I had heard her say it before now; the words still couldn’t fail to weaken me. “Thankyou. Thankyou for being in my life. I’m so… lucky to have found you.”

“I’m the lucky one.” Continuing to rock her. Unable to keep a small, surprisingly contented smile from forming on my face. I shouldn’t feel guilty for being happy. Neither of us should have. “And once I’ve dealt with Marowski, I am going to do whatever it takes to cleanse this town. For you and for everyone else. I want Goodneighbor to be your home. Not the place that you were hurt.”

She looked up towards me; smiling consolingly. “Honey, Goodneighbor _is_ my home. What Marowski did will never change that. I love this town.”

I ran my hand up over her head; tucking some loose hair behind her ear. I came up with an idea. “Hows about we make a promise to each other, here and now? That we don’t hold back anything anymore. That, within reason, we do our utmost to be honest with one another.”

Eve bit her lip, looking uncertain. “Ooh. Seems like we’d be gettin’ a lot of dirt on each other.”

I moved the brim of my hat out of the way so that I could press my forehead against her own. I gave her what I’m certain was a very intense look. “Do you trust me?”

Her return smile said enough. “I trust you.” She held up a cautionary finger. “Perhaps not enough to let you crack open my skull and perform open brain surgery… but within reason.”

I made a point of pretending to be offended with her. “I’d trust _you_ to give me a prostate exam.”

Of course, the idea of this made her laugh and I was pleased to see her cheering up some. “Can’t see a situation arising anytime soon that would require _that_ level of dedication or trust, but good to know!”

I chuckled as well, pausing then to offer her a somewhat more serious look. Genuinely curious. And perhaps… a little concerned as to what else I might potentially unearth. Women were after all, mysterious creatures. My old man had told me no lie in that.

“So…” I asked, with no small margin of trepidation. “Is there anything else you’d like to share while the sharing is good? Any deep, dark, soul crushing, reality shattering secrets you’d like to get off of your chest?”

Eve took a long slow breath in. Pinched her eyes shut. Summoned courage from somewhere unseen. I felt a strange plunging sensation grip my chest at the look of serious consideration on her face. Oh man. What other awful things had she been hiding all this time? Maybe I was better off not knowing. Every relationship could benefit from _some_ degree of mystery, right?

“I’m not a natural blonde.”

I gave a loud, sarcastic gasp; clutching a hand to my chest. Hamming it up but in reality, feeling a little relieved. She’d looked so _intense_ there for a moment, I had been dreading hearing of some other awful assault she had experienced when my back had been turned.

“ _No! Really?_ ”

“Oh shut up.”

I laughed softly; rubbing a conciliatory palm into her upper back. She avoided my eyes; looking somewhat sulky. “What colour hair do you _naturally_ have then?”

“You could just wait ‘til tonight and find out for yourself.” She waited for me to react, smirking as I fluttered my hands at my face like an overexcited child before leaning into me with a small chuckle of her own. “It’s light brown. _Dishwater_ brown. Starting getting darker when I hit twelve.” She pinched a strand of wavy hair between her fingertips and idly twirled it. “I was always jealous that my Mom got to keep her hair blonde, even though she was so much older than me. So I started dying it. And I haven’t stopped since.”

“Uh-huh.”

“John the hairdresser does it for me every time I visit Diamond City.”

Of course, it wasn’t an actual surprise to find out that her hair wasn’t naturally blonde. I had suspected a long time; mainly because I’d seen her with regrowth between our visits to Diamond City. I wondered how she would look if she allowed her hair to grow out? I mean, I’d always been a sucker for a blonde and the shade complimented the natural tan of her skin perfectly but… I don’t know. I figured she’d look adorable with any hair color. I’d seen her with black hair when we’d gone undercover at the _Cavellian Club_ and I thought the shade complimented her skin tone nicely. With that sort of tan, you could safely pull of just about any color.

I smiled, knowing that his must have been difficult for her to admit and took her hand in my own. Time for me to front up with some of my own failings in the vanity department.

“I tell people I’m five feet eleven inches tall.” I glanced about the room, as though I was disclosing state secrets, before leaning in closer and lowering my voice. “But I’m actually only five-ten and _three quarters_.”

Eve gave a fake gasp and slapped her hands to the side of her face dramatically. “Oh! The _scandal_!”

I held a finger to my lips; shushing whilst staring over my shoulder. “Promise you will keep this delicate, potentially career destroying information to yourself. Imagine what my constituents would think? To discover that they have invested all their faith in a tiny garden gnome like me.”

Eve chuckled and winked her right eye at me. “Keep my hair color secret and you got a deal.”

I chuckled as we shook hands; sealing the deal. “Right. So, any other scandalous skeletons hiding in your closet I should know about?”

She glanced down towards the floor and then twisted her head to the side, as though so ashamed of what she was hiding she was unable to deal with it. “Sometimes I fart and blame it on Dogmeat.”

I waved a hand nonchalantly. “Eh, I do that all the time. Or I blame MacCready, one or the other.”

She laughed a little before turning once more to meet my eyes. Somewhat more serious than before, perhaps.

“I used to collect ghost hunting memorabilia. Had a whole folder dedicated to it. I wanted to become a ghost hunter.”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” I asked, genuinely curious. Strangely enough, it was a question that I had never heard the answer to. One of the very few conversations that she and I had never had, apparently.

“No.” She admitted, smiling and shaking her head. “But I always wanted to be convinced.”

I returned her smile and squeezed her hand. I decided that with this next admission, I would reveal to her a genuine weakness. Something that had troubled me for many years and still continued to have an effect on me until this very day. Something I had worked hard to hide, though often had great difficulty doing so.

“I’m scared of small spaces.” I said, looking up into her eyes so that she could see beyond doubt, just how serious I had been with this statement. “And I don’t mean like a little bit scared, I mean like panic attack, freaking out, clutching my head and screaming like Camille with urine running down the inside seam of my pants scared.”

She didn’t laugh, or make fun like I might have expected one of the boys to have done, if I’d been stupid enough to make them privy to this information. Only cocked her head to the side; curious and empathetic, all in the one gesture.

“So you’re like… claustrophobic?”

I remembered the term from one of the old textbooks I had read. A fear of being trapped in a small enclosed space; unable to escape. Might very well have explained my fear of serious relationships up until now. Perhaps spoke volumes of my need to run away from everything in my life.

“To be honest; even got a hard time going underground.” I confessed, feeling an involuntary shudder course through my shoulders. Been enough times this had been the case during our travels. I’d always tried to play it cool as best I could but… damn. Shit had almost gotten to me on more than one occasion. “I can almost feel the pressure of the dirt and the walls all around me… It’s horrible.”

Eve absorbed this information; took a moment to stint on it and then leaned closer, bringing her shoulder up close to her chin. A gesture I was starting to recognize as her being flirtatious.

“Do you get claustrophobia when your heads trapped between a woman’s thighs?” She asked, her lips wending up into a cheeky smile. I returned it with vested interest.

“Fortunately, _that’s_ one I’ve been able to overcome.” I murmured, leaning in so that our lips brushed together. “Through hard work and… perseverance.”

Her smile invited me in and I kissed her; a little more sensually this time. A tiny amount of tongue passing just over the columns of our lips. It felt nice and hopefully, to Eve, safe. I had to remember we had done a lot more than just kiss that very afternoon and she had professed to having enjoyed it all in her return letter to me. I couldn’t allow Marowski’s atrocities to make me too timid. Eve, after all, was for the most part recovered. Well, recovered enough to desire intimacies with another man. And she certainly had no qualms with taking charge so as to have these needs met.

She smirked as we finally parted, batting her half-lidded eyes at me. “Did you just say ‘perseverance’ or ‘ _perverse_ -rence’?”

I shrugged lightly, eyes still on her lips. Flushed and plump. Glistening with a small amount of saliva. There was that desire again. Never far from the surface.

“Both apply.”

Her expression morphed to one of genuine concern now and she cocked her head to the side; enquiring. “Do you know _why_ you’re afraid of small spaces?”

I grunted to myself; knowing full well why I was such a head case when it came to small spaces. “McDonough the lard-ass locked me inside of an old travel trunk we found while playing around outside Diamond City.” I busied myself by brushing my fingers through her hair again. She probably didn’t appreciate it. Often said that the gesture made it frizz up. “We’d snuck out to do some exploring, as kids do. What I didn’t realize was that McDonough had found the trunk on a previous junket and thrown an old skull into it. He sat on the fucking thing and left me locked inside for probably a good… ten minutes? Felt like longer though. Guess cause I passed out from screaming.”

“Shit.” Eve murmured, looking genuinely upset for younger me.

“Yeah. Ma tanned his ass blue for that one. Striped his back and all.” I bit my lip, feeling more than just a fair slab of vindication strobe through me at the memory. Go Ma. “Serves the asshole right. Still can’t _look_ at a packing trunk today without reliving it.”

“That’s fucked.” Eve said, the sort of understatement that might have made me laugh, if she hadn’t followed up by stroking her hand to my cheek. “You poor thing.”

“Yeah. Got him back though. Stole his girlfriend off of him when I was in my twenties. Ha ha.”

She laughed and gave me a little high five. “That’s the way. Hancock the homewrecker.”

“Sure I’ve been called _that_ one more than a few times.” I said with a chuckle. Eve smiled along with me, waiting until I was done before cocking her head at me. Genuinely curious, given the soft look on her face.

“Do you still love me? Even though I’m not a natural blonde and I fart sometimes?”

I pretended to stint on the matter with some reverence; tapping a finger to my chin thoughtfully before delivering my verdict.

“If you reform your wicked ways and cease blaming the dog for your flatulence, I believe I can find it in my heart to continue loving you.”

Eve laughed. “How kind. Considering you do the exact same thing, apparently!”

“Do you still love me?” I asked. “Even though I’m unattractively tiny and scared of being dragged backwards down a mole rat den?”

She smiled that soft and gentle smile as she brushed the backs of her fingers across my cheek. “I don’t think being a quarter of an inch shorter than you previously claimed will make me love you any less, John Hancock.” She tapped her fingernail against my nasal cavity. “And a fear of enclosed spaces couples well with my fear of heights.”

“If we ever get trapped together in a mountaintop cave, we’re fucked you realize.”

Eve laughed, tilting her head to the side. Her fingertip traced my lower lip tenderly. “We’d find a way to muddle through. The Dangerous Duo always comes out on top.”

I looked her over, rubbing the lobe of her ear between my fingers before pulling her closer and kissing her forehead. Her eyes; though red rimmed, were clearer and she seemed to be a good deal more relaxed than earlier. She had needed to exorcize this shit from her system; bust down the crumbling wall and build up again from scratch rather than pile more atop unstable foundations.

“You okay, darlin’?” I asked, brushing my fingertips over her cheeks. They were flushed pink from emotion and it struck me because I so rarely saw her without makeup on. At least, during the day.

“I’m with you.” She replied, smiling sweetly as she leaned up to kiss me on the mouth; her own fingertips tracing my jawline. “I’m _more_ than okay.”

“Listen,” I said, taking her fingers between mine and caressing her knuckles with my thumb. “You’re exhausted. You wanna just bag the date tonight? We can stay in and just have a few drinks. I’ll make dinner.”

Eve’s brows shot up dramatically into her forehead. “God, things can’t be _that_ bad, surely?” She exclaimed, laughing as I pretended to smack her up the back of the head. Her palm cupped to my neck and she smiled as she pressed her forehead to mine. “I thought we weren’t going to let Marowski get in the way of anything tonight, darl? I’ll be _fine._ We’re going to have an amazing time.”

I lifted my brow at her; concerned. “I just… don’t want to… you know. Do anything to remind you of what he did. Because if I went too fast this afternoon-”

She rubbed her nose gently across the top of my nasal cavity, eyes feathering shut. “The last thing I was thinking of this afternoon was Theodore fucking Marowski. What we did… it was amazing.” She took my hand and placed it gently on her chest; just above the swelling of her breast. “When you touch me… I feel Marowski slip further and further away. I want you to drive him out. To help me take back my body, by making it your own.”

I chanced a small chuckle, distracted somewhat by the mention of what was going to transpire between us tonight. Not to mention my hand practically resting against her tit. “Well, I’ll need all the luck I can get. Hip isn’t exactly in a cooperative mood at the moment.”

Eve gave a slow, sensuous wink; her thumb rubbing over the ridges branching across my hand. “We’ll find a way. Don’t think you can run from me forever, John Hancock. You’ll have to give up the goodies sometime.”

I laughed for some time at this one. “You think I ever _wanted_ to put you off? Took every ounce of effort I had not to _jump_ you those few times I had the opportunity. Being a gentleman is fucking hard.” I lifted my hand from her chest and returned it to just underneath her rump; giving her a firm pat. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of dinner for tonight? You can just spend the afternoon with the girls relaxing and getting ready…”

“Cooking helps me relax, John.” She said, smiling as she brushed her fingernails back through her hair. “Meaghan offered me use of the oven at her place, so I shouldn’t get underfoot here.”

“Well, your stuff is in the fridge upstairs. Just give me a minute and I’ll run and get it.” I said, waiting for her to pull herself up out of my lap before struggling to my feet. I winced as pain shot down from both my hip and my knee. “Well… hobble and get it. You know what I mean.”

“I can run up and-” Eve started but I held up a hand to cut her off.

“Won’t take a moment. Just wait here. Be back in a flash.”

I used the handrail to help pull myself back up to the second level; hissing from the pain as I went. It wasn’t unbearable but my leg felt as stiff and as useless as an old tree branch. All this crap just set me back further; prevented me from being able to return to Eve’s side and be of use to her in the Commonwealth. Dammit all. I wanted to _be_ with her the day she finally managed to infiltrate the Institute. No way in hell was she climbing into that… death trap of Tinker Tom’s without me there to put my arms around her first. Of course, we would try to get as many of us through as possible but there were no guarantees that the machine would ever work in the first place. Or that Eve would survive it.

I opened the right hand office door and caught a whiff of cigarette smoke in the air as I entered. Fahrenheit was sitting on the sofa, crouched over the paperwork and quickly butting out a cigarette onto a small plate as I entered. I narrowed my eyes at her, unimpressed as I limped my way over to the refrigerator.

“I _told_ you about that.”

Fahrenheit looked genuinely ashamed. Or likely, genuinely sorry that she had been caught. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“One you need to shake.” I scolded, examining each of the bags Adrian had shoved into the refrigerator. One of them was piled high with various types of meat and a couple of white paper parcels that I assumed contained seafood of some kind. The other had a strange, hodgepodge variety of ingredients, ranging from Bloodleaves to… were those Radscorpion stingers? Oh wait, that’s right. I think she used to venom to spice up and flavor the sauce in the burgers. These were definitely her bags then.

“How’s it coming?” I asked as I took the bags from the refrigerator and tied the tops of the with a firm knot. Fahrenheit grunted, passing a hand up over her head irritably.

“Slowly. Not that Marowski deserves credit for wiping his own ass but the guy kept extensive figures.” She held up a few stacks of paper, showing, I think, that she was arranging them into some sort of order. Made sense, given the mess I had made of his office. “ I’m just knuckling through as best I can; hoping I can find something more specific on the Institute or where he mighta run off to. He could have a base of operations somewhere outside of Goodneighbor.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if it was close.” I said, staring into the fridge before closing the doors. I’d been tempted to help myself to a cold beer but coupled with the Chark and the few Bourbon’s I had shot back before, the combination would knock what was left of my legs out from under me. “So he could travel back and forth without being missed.”

Fahrenheit snorted dubiously. “Would _anyone_ have missed him?”

“Point taken. Well, I’ll leave you to it.” I said, heading for the door with the bags dangling from my right hand. Just before I pushed my way on through, I heard Fahrenheit make a clucking sound in her cheek. Something she often did when working out a puzzle in her mind.

“It’s a little… strange though, don’t you think?”

“What is?” I asked, turning and looking back towards her. Impatient to get back to Eve. Knowing that girls luck, if I left her too long a meteorite or some shit would come ploughing through the ground floor of the Statehouse and land right on her foot or something.

Fahrenheit jabbed her finger to the cover of the Scrapbook; now mercifully closed and set aside. “Marowski _had_ to have known what coming over here was going to do. What he was going to set in motion. Enough so that he got his ass out of dodge right away. But then he goes and leaves all _this_ behind, incriminating himself.” She picked the journal up and gestured with it. “This especially. I mean, where did you and BC end up finding it?”

“Underneath the mattress in his room.” I snorted, giving a small internal shudder at some of the other things I had seen in Marowski’s room. Fahrenheit gave me a serious look.

“Well, it’s not exactly a very clever or original hiding place, now is it? Why not take it with him?” She flipped through the pages briefly, lip curling in disgust as each hideous tableau came to momentary light. “These were like his… trophies, right? A sick fuck like Marwoski likes to use the trophies to relive the crime over and over again. Take pleasure from it. He’s not just going to leave shit like that behind intentionally. It’s what he gets off on. His bread and butter.”

“He might have just made a mistake.” I said, though it sounded like a load of bull even to me. Fahrenheit was working towards something; something I wasn’t sure I much liked the sound of. “Rushed things so much…”

Fahrenheit did her very best to not look at me like I was an idiot. I knew she didn’t like it when I attempted to avoid the truth of a matter. To be fair, I didn’t do it often. Only when I was feeling particularly lazy.

“A man with figures this organized; who committed crimes over a ten year period and organized them into a dated, decorated scrapbook is _not_ just going to be remiss of some major detail, Hancock. Marowski may be a thug but he’s a thug who dots the I’s and crosses his T’s.” She waved the book towards me. “I believe that you finding this was entirely his intention from word go.”

Shit. She was making a lot of sense. It was just difficult for me to accept because I’d never known Marowski to be particularly affluent in… well, anything really. But maybe that was the point of the whole thing; when no one expects much of you, at some point you sort of cease to exist. No one pays attention to what you’re doing. Not until you rock the boat that is.

Was Marowski simply opportunistic? Or was he genuinely more of a threat than I had ever anticipated? Was this morose, sulky brat of a man really capable of such cunning? I was finding myself leaning more towards Fahrenheit’s reasoning by the moment but something still niggled persistently at the corners of my mind. This sort of planning… took patience. Marowski wasn’t, by the very definition of his nature, patient. He’d never had to wait for anything his whole life. Until I had taken over Goodneighbor, shit had simply fallen into his lap; courtesy of his parents’ reputation and fortune. He was already in his forties at the time of the coup; a bit late in life to be making such monumental personality shifts.

“Okay.” I said, taking my hand off of the door and perching it on my hip. “Let’s pretend I mostly concur… what would be his logic behind that?”

Fahrenheit looked into my eyes with an intensity I hadn’t cause to witness for some years. “To rattle your foundations. To show you what you’ve been missing these past ten years you’ve been Mayor. To make you doubt and resent yourself.”

It made sense… and yet, it still seemed too clever for Marowski. “So… he sacrifices the book, his _trophies_ , to weaken me at my core... and?”

“It’s the anniversary of the coup.” Fahrenheit said, placing the scrapbook down and picking up her pen from nearby. She returned its point to the page in front of her, eyes leaving mine to focus on the messily scrawled text. “ _My_ concern is that he’s set the wheel in motion to recreate the whole damn thing. Only with _him_ coming out on top, rather than yourself, Hancock.”

I snorted as though the very idea was absurd. “You’d think that sort of thing would make more of an impact if he did it on the _ten_ year anniversary.”

She set the pen down and sighed, glancing off to the side. Gathering her patience.

“Well, he couldn’t really, could he? You weren’t in town last Christmas. You were out travelling with that- _Eve_ and the others.” She pursed her lips, ran a finger across the bridge of them. Considered another element, so far relegated to the realm of the unimportant. “You know, I think back now and I remember having to intervene on a fight Marowski was having with one of the boys down in the Third Rail on Christmas night.” She tapped her finger at the air, as though typing out something on an invisible monitor. “He was drunk outta his mind and raving on with some nonsense I didn’t really pay attention to. Had a face that season like a cat’s asshole sucking on a Tarberry.”

I raised my brow at her; not altogether convinced. “What, you think he _was_ planning to rebel on the ten year anniversary and my going out of town ruined it? Why wouldn’t he just rebel with me outta town? It might have gone smoother for him.”

She groaned, genuinely frustrated now. “Because the rebellion serves as _ritual_ for him, now, Hancock. And you’re _central_ to the completion of that ritual. It’s not the crown of Goodneighbor he wants so much as he desires to wrench control out of _your_ hands.” She flashed me that intense look again. “You took a lot away from Marowski when you became Mayor of this town. Spoiled brats like him can’t deal with not being able to do whatever they want. Even his own parents never told Marowski what he could or could not do. He wants _control._ ”

I curled my lip up in disgust. “Well he’s going to find himself sorely disappointed because he ain’t taking my crown. I’ll come back from the dead and rip his throat out before I let that bastard send this town down the gurgler again.”

“Keep in mind that it’s only a theory at this point.” She stared at me meaningfully. “One I _know_ you’ve considered yourself; given that you’re having all the Triggermen brought in.”

I rolled my shoulders; feeling that my reasons behind this were rather self-explanatory. “Guys gonna find it very hard to rebel without an army on the ground to do the fighting.”

She smiled a little before then returning her attention to the notes. “Anyhow, I’ll keep looking for something that might support any of this. It’s all just supposition at this stage.”

“Thankyou. I appreciate it.” I went to open the door but the feeling of guilt that pressed down on me was so encompassing I felt I couldn’t leave without saying something. I turned back to Fahrenheit; hunched over the notes, eyes narrowed into slits of concentration. “And for what it’s worth; I forgive you.”

To my surprise, her expression became one of annoyance and she waved my words away as though they were as irritating as a slowly circling Bloatfly.

“Save your forgiveness until I’ve found something amongst this mess to have earned it.” She said, returning her hand to the page in front of her, which she then lifted and placed atop one of the piles to the left. Her eyes zipped across the top few lines of the next crumpled piece of paper. “Don’t serve it to me free of charge, I’m not into that.”

I laughed, not surprised that she would say something like this. Fahrenheit wasn’t the sort of person that went sucking after someone’s approval and she certainly didn’t want anything that she felt she hadn’t earned. One of her better qualities, admittedly.

“You’re a hard lady, lady.” I said, pretending to scoop something out of the air and place inside of my pocket. “All right. I’ll keep it in reserve for when you’ve got something to present to me.”

“And I’d best find it soon.” Glancing up from the page and gnawing at her lip with an unfamiliar look of concern gracing her features. “Parties tomorrow night… Times dogging us.”

I pulled the door shut behind me as I left, mulling over Fahrenheit’s theories as I made my way back down the stairs. They ran quite congruent to my own. I too had concerns about a reimagining of the coup, though I hadn’t ever anticipated that it would be Marowski who would drive this agenda forward. But perhaps that there was my greatest failing; not having taken this man seriously enough. He’d done a lot of shit these past ten years. Hurt a lot of people. But there were a lot of stupid people in the world capable of much worse.

I just… couldn’t fathom the idea of him possessing the confidence to pull off something like this alone. Marowski was small time. He might have craved power true, but I don’t think he had the balls to try and take it without someone, or several someone’s, standing at his back. Used to be his parents once upon a time. Now, he had the Triggermen, true. But only a fool would place their trust in this motely crew. Financial incentive or not. There were bigger, badder, smarter bosses to be found amongst the smaller ranks of the Triggermen. All of whom would steamroll over Marowski given half a chance. He wasn’t such a badass he’d have it over all those wily bastards.

But this only further complicated matters. I was positing that Marowski was working _with_ someone; someone much cleverer and manipulative and more powerful than he. Someone who in turn made Marowski feel ten feet tall and untouchable.

Problem is, I couldn’t think of anyone specifically. I had run Skinny Malone out of town a year or so back but that guy was _super_ small time. He was like a big kid, playing tree house down there in his little vault. Happy enough to have his tiny little kingdom to himself, with the spattering of Triggermen who were loyal to him. He’d never really had any beef with me… Not… personal beef, anyway.

This got me to thinking further and I started wishing I had a piece of paper to write some of my thoughts down before I inevitably forgot them in the wake of the evening ahead. I pushed the idea I’d just formed off to the side, repeating it a few times so as to hopefully retain it. Something that could really help pull things together.

Eve was waiting by the door, examining her fingernails one at a time; picking dirt out from beneath them I suppose. She looked embarrassed that I had caught her and quickly dropped her hands down in front of her; fingers linking together. I gave her a smile as I limped back down to ground level and knelt to kiss her on the cheek.

“Sorry ta keep ya. Just going over a few things with Fahrenheit.”

Eve’s face radiated relief at my words and she gave my wrist a tender squeeze.

“Good. I’m glad you’re talking with her.” Her eyes strayed towards the stairs thoughtfully. “Life’s too short to be angry with someone who’s got your back like that woman does.”

“And I thought _I_ was too forgiving.” I said with a soft chuckle. Eve turned back towards me, both brows lifting into her forehead with concern.

“Is she worried that Marowski’s planning to rebel?”

I gave her a long, no doubt inquisitive look. “How did you know that?”

She shrugged. “That was her biggest fear over a year ago. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing you and seeing everyone in this town killed. And she knows Marowski has a strong financial pull over the Triggermen.” She rubbed her index finger and thumb together. “Money gets honey, as they say.”

“Well, she’s currently looking for evidence amongst all Marowski’s paperwork.” I said, thinking back to what Fahrenheit had said about Marowski leaving his ‘trophies’ behind. It made me wonder whether Marowski would have it in him to do such a thing. Given the amount of work invested in that scrapbook, why just leave it behind; regardless of your ulterior motivations?

Could it be that he had… copies in his possession? It was a terrible thought and one that chose not to share with Eve. There was no point upsetting her with what was pure postulation at this stage.

Eve looked at me earnestly, her eyes flicking back up to the stairwell. Her expression torn. “Honey, you know I don’t want to miss out on our date tonight but… do you think maybe you should be helping out here?”

I groaned, irritated and shook my head to the point that I just about sent my hat flying off.

“Babe, I have _done_ my time. Boys have got it under control.” I slid my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to my side; smiling down into her drowsy, flushed, yet contented expression. “Tonight… I’m _all_ yours.”

Eve smiled as she rubbed the palm of her hand across my stomach. “Good. Just so long as I’m not keeping you from anything.”

I offered up a deep, melancholy groan. “Been kept from _you_ long enough. I’m not letting anyone or _anything_ get between us tonight. Now.” I said, bringing my arm down and lifting my elbow in that familiar invitation. Sure enough, she slid her hand neatly into the crook of my arm. “Pull yourself together. As a Mayor’s ‘spouse’ you must hold yourself with pride.”

Eve chuckled, before lowering her eyes to half-mast and adopting a flirtatious tone. “Why yes, my mighty sovereign.”

We stepped out through the doorway, prompting Reggie and Frank to climb up from their perch on the street side stairwell. They butted out their cigarettes and binned them, waiting for Eve and I to descend before making their way back inside. Eve swanned down the steps beside me, lifting the hem of her dressing gown to mid thigh level – as though she was some upper class dame attempting to keep her dress from sliding through a puddle. She lifted her chin, foisting her nose high into the air and balanced one hand out delicately beside herself; bent at the wrist. I laughed to see her impression of how a mayor’s ‘spouse’ was intended to present herself to the public.

“Dork.” I said, watching as a smile stretched out across her own face. Reggie and Frank were staring at her, their faces etched in empathy and I only hoped she didn’t read too much into it as they passed by. Reggie actually waited until he drew level with her and held out his fist. She instinctively tapped her own to his; something she had gotten into the habit of when interacting with the Neighborhood Watch.

“Keep smilin’, sister.” He said, before following Frank back up into the Statehouse and closing the door behind him. Eve watched him go before sighing and turning her gaze back towards me.

“Do _all_ of them know?”

It was a wonder she didn’t sound the least angry with me. Just… sort of resigned. I shook my head.

“They know that Marowski has been messing with girls in the town. I think they drew their own conclusions based on my reaction.”

She tilted her head to the side and looked at me gently.

“Well, you were pretty steamed when you stormed out of Meg’s shop. I’m sure it wasn’t hard for them to put the pieces together.”

I looked into her eyes, feeling shame brush up against the corners of my conscience as we made our way back towards _Scalice Boutique._ She was being awfully accommodating of this, well not _invasion_ of privacy so much as… _lack of._ She was a down to earth kid and all that but _still._

“I’m sorry.” I said, reaching across with my free hand to caress the back of her own. “Should’ve been more discreet. I was just-”

She shook her head and petted my own hand consolingly. “You don’t have to apologize for being angry. It does me justice, really.” She smirked at my no doubt confused expression. “It shows how much you really do love me… not being able to hold those feelings at bay. Besides, I’m not exactly _embarrassed_ if people… know. Sounds like it was happening to a lot of folks. I’m just one of the walking wounded.”

“In this town,” I said dryly, biting at the corner of my lip as I stared out down the main stretch. “ _Everyone’s_ the walking wounded.”

She rubbed a warm patch across my bicep. “Wounded but _healing._ It’s a town of _healing,_ John. Don’t think about it any other way.”

I certainly liked her take on it much better than I did my own. Though I truly neither saw Goodneighbor as a town of wounded _or_ a town of healing. Rather as a hideaway; where people tucked themselves as far from reality as possible. A town of fearful strangers, all thrown in together like some bizarre cooking pot compilation. Avoidant. Alice and the looking glass; slipping further and further from reality all the while. It was changing, sure. But it was going to take a hell of a lot of work to separate ourselves from our long conditioned lifestyles.

Nick and Dogmeat were waiting for us by the foremost corner of the Statehouse and fell in to step beside us as we approached. Dogmeat simpered up to Eve with his tail still between his legs. She got down on the ground, opened her arms wide and pulled him in close against her body. Rubbing his chest, head and apologizing all the while for having lashed out at him. Which she ought to have done; though my teeth pocked arm and ass felt that the old mutt might have had it coming.

Nick and I waited for their cuddle fest to draw to a close; neither saying a word to the other. I was keeping my temper under wraps and I thought if I started speaking with him now, I was only likely to lose it and launch into the raging rant I knew was shortly coming. Nick must have sensed that I had something not so pleasant in mind and didn’t seem to want to prematurely prompt it. He waited and watched, just as I did and when Eve and Dogmeat were done loving it up, we continued on our way.

“So, where will I be picking you up tonight?” I asked, reaching down to take Eve’s hand this time. She slipped her fingers between mine, pressing our palms together and with her free hand, gestured up towards the top of the Statehouse.

“I’ll get ready with the girls upstairs. Come and find me in their stay room, yeah?”

“Sure.” I said, smiling and giving her hand a squeeze. “Is six gonna still be okay? Or with all the assing about, are you gonna need more time ta get ready?”

Eve groaned dramatically. “Any longer and I’ll starve to death! It’ll be fine, it won’t take me that long to throw the food together.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully and glanced off to the side. “I might have to rethink doing the patté I was planning though…”

I sighed, staring up at the sky as though beseeching help from a higher authority. Girl just didn’t know how to settle for simple. “Don’t worry about bein’ all fancy with it, darlin’. So long as I got a burger, a drink and you, I’ll be one satisfied Ghoul.”

She grumbled and pouted her lips like a sulky child. “I just… wanted to make it perfect, you know?”

“I’ll be with you.” I said, giving her hand another squeeze and smiling as she gazed back up into my face. “It’ll be perfect.”

She tilted her head down, returning my smile. “Thanks.” She murmured, reaching up to plant a kiss to my cheek. “That’s sweet. And just the slightest bit gay.”

“Oh come on, I’m a little out of practice. Give me points for being adorable at least.”

We arrived back at Meaghan’s shop, finding Cait and Piper now hanging out by the counter with the proprietor herself. All three of them slurping addictively from glasses of violently pink drinks. As soon as they saw me with Eve, Cait and Piper put theirs down and came bustling over.

“Hey there, love.” Cait said, reaching out to give Eve a tender smack to the side of the arm. “Feelin’ okay now?”

Eve chuckled and nodded her head. “Yeah, I’m good. Might’ve caused a bit of scene in the main thoroughfare though.” She favored me with another smile. “John managed to smooth it over.”

I waved my hand, dismissively. “She’s exaggerating. Didn’t cause a scene in the least.” I winked down at her. “Gonna have to try and lot harder than that to crack Goodneighbor’s Top Ten all time embarrassing moments.”

She sighed, wiping at her eyes as I planted a kiss to the side of her head. She took her hand out of mine and leaned into me, wrapping her arm about my middle instead. I slid mine across the shoulder and pulled her in tight.

“I’m just sorry I… lost it like that in front of all of you.” Eve apologized, making good and certain the last of her tears had been cleared away before turning her attention to Cait. “And sorry for pushing you like that before Cait. _And_ for saying you didn’t take… laundry duties seriously.”

Cait bust with laughter, tapping her fist to the wall of her chest. “Please. I’m made of tougher stuff than that. And you’re right about that last part anyway. Laundry definitely ain’t my bag, darlin’.”

“And you don’t need to apologize for being upset.” Piper concurred, staring down towards the floor with her arms wrapped insecurely about her middle. She lifted one of her hands to wipe at her own eyes. “I… I should be the one apologizing.”

Eve looked to her in confusion. “What on earth do you need to be sorry for, Piper?”

Piper’s face clenched inward, eyes slamming shut as tears rolled out from beneath them. She pressed her hand to her brow, covering as much as she could with her trembling fingers.

“The whole time… the whole time he was… raping you… I was – I was upstairs and I… I didn’t know.” Her sobs worsened and it only truly occurred to me then just how much guilt there was to go around. Everyone in this whole sorry situation had been served a fair portion. “I didn’t come and help you!”

“Oh honey.” Eve murmured, slipping away from my side and going instead to Piper’s. She wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rubbed her hand down from Piper’s shoulder. Comforting the one who was in turn mourning so completely for her. “You weren’t to _know_. How could you possibly have known something like _that_ was going to happen? You were fast asleep.”

“Besides, you weren’t the only one upstairs, were you?” I said, taking my hand off of the wheel and turning to Nick with what I knew must have been one icy glare. “And only one of the few that actually needs to sleep.”

Instead of reacting in shock or denial such as I had expected, Nick simply offered a resigned sigh. Of the nature that said he had been expecting to have this conversation for some time and was simply waiting for it to roll around.

“So, this was why you wanted me to stick around.” He said, synthetic eyes aimed towards the floor. He certainly made no effort to return my furious glare. “To berate me for failing Eve.”

“Nick, you didn’t fail me-” Eve began to say but I cut her off. This wasn’t one of those times where she had any reason to be so forgiving. And regardless of her own feelings on the matter, I was certainly in a far from forgiving mood.

“Yes he did, Eve. Just as much as I did. And he knows it, too.” I kept my eyes focused on Nick; daring him to look up. To bear witness to my anger and disappointment. “What were you doing upstairs that whole time he was messing with her? Twiddling about with your nuts and bolts? Hmm? You didn’t think to go and _check_ sooner?”

His eyes flinched shut and I was a little surprised to see just how miserable a Synth’s expression could be.

“You don’t have to tell me what I already know. I’m not making any excuses for myself.” His eyes blinked open, though he continued to avoid looking directly at me. Instead, he stared off towards the isle of clothes directly in front of him. From the way that his pupils were darting about in his skull, I assumed that he wasn’t seeing the clothes, however. But the past. The past in which he had ballsed up so spectacularly. “I should have gone with you, Evelyn. I… made a terrible error in judgment.”

“Yeah. You did.” I said firmly, jumping in once more to prevent Eve from closing down the exchange with her ridiculously lenient diplomacy. “Not to mention you had the fucking audacity to hold _me_ to ransom over some of _my_ poor decisions whilst we were travelling together. Steering me away from Eve because ‘I wasn’t good enough’ or because you were afraid I would hurt her and take advantage.” I felt my eyes narrow, my glare intensifying. Inside, I was fuming; fit to be tied. “Where did you get off talking down to me like that when you were no better yourself? _You_ let her wander off alone into the night and look what happened.”

“John, come on.” Eve said, her voice gentle but possessing a definite edge. “You’re not being fair to Nick.”

I whipped around to look at her now, softening my tone and expression so that she didn’t feel that I was directing any of this at her. “Fair ain’t got nothin’ to do with it, Eve. He sure as hell wasn’t _fair_ to me all that time I was falling for you out there. Pipping me at the post at every turn.” I swung my burning gaze back towards Nick. “You’re a goddamn hypocrite of the worst kind, Nick Valentine.”

This time, he did turn to meet my gaze. And though he looked little more than cross and though his mind was composed of wires and circuits, I swear I could feel the intensity of emotion and desperation pouring out of him.

“Well what more could you expect me to do? Let someone with your reputation keep sniffing round her skirt tails after what happened? Risk triggering all that shit again when she’s been working so hard to find a way to her boy?” He shook one of his pointed, metallic fingers in my direction. “Would you have thanked me for _not_ trying to protect her in the aftermath?”

I looked to him suspiciously; tilting my head to the side as it dawned on me just _what_ he had meant with this statement. I felt my anger growing in my chest.

“You _knew._ ”

He nodded without speaking and I turned to Eve, gesturing back at Nick. Astonished.

“You told _Nick_ and not me?”

I could tell instantly that Eve was just as gobsmacked as I was. Her mouth gaped like a fish thrown onto land and gasping as it smacked against the shore. Her soothing ministrations to Piper’s arm ceased as her eyes cast back and forth between us urgently.

“I had… I had no idea, that Nick knew.” She said, brows arching down as she turned to look curiously at the old Synth. “How did you…?”

Nick scoffed; not unkindly but in demonstration of the obvious nonetheless. “I’m a detective. It’s my job to figure things out. And in this case, it wasn’t altogether difficult.” He pressed his lips together, gazing off over through the air and back into the past. He started speaking and he spoke for some time; a time in which the rest of us remained quiet, observing the proper respect for his side of the story:

“See Evelyn, after you’d been gone some time at the hotel, Dogmeat suddenly sat up in the bed; ears up, like he was listening to something. He stayed like this for some time; just sort of looking around and puzzling things over in his head. I figured that he was just confused as to where you had gone; given that you’d been there when he’d fallen asleep, so I didn’t ascribe too much importance to it. I was using the time to run some diagnostics; a time that I sort of check out for and so I continued with this. Next thing you know, I come out of my internalizations and hear Dogmeat huffing and scratching at the door. By the time I was able to bring myself back to reality, he’d almost cleaved a hole right through the bottom most panel. I woke Codsworth and asked him to watch over Piper before following Dogmeat out into the hall.

He made straight for the stairs, as fast as his legs could take him. When he reached the ground floor, he ran around the reception desk and started scratching at Marowski’s office door now. A curious development, given that it was highly unlikely for Dogmeat and Marowski to have crossed paths in the past. Dogmeat certainly hadn’t been interested in approaching him earlier in the day. So, I knocked and waited to see if he was in. It was early in the morning by this stage, so I didn’t expect someone like Marowski to still be hard at work at his desk. Guy doesn’t seem like your ‘burning the midnight oil’ type. Unsurprisingly, I got no response, so I decided just to poke my head in and see what was going on.

I don’t need a nose like Dogmeat’s to know that something strange had gone on in there. Stank like cigar smoke. And something else. Something I usually smell in Raider encampments or Super Mutant strongholds. Blood. Sweat. Fear. I looked around but couldn’t see much. But then, Dogmeat started pawing at the floor, where the boards had been stained a little. Looked a lot like blood to me.

After having a good whiff, he took off again out into the street. I followed him all the way to the Memory Den; where I found you being helped back up the stairs by Fahrenheit, Evelyn. At first, I just about bought the story you sold me. Didn’t seem entirely unreasonable; given the hell you’ve gone through lately. But that night, after I put you to bed; I started putting the pieces together in my mind.

A lot of it didn’t make sense. Why did Dogmeat go to Marowski’s office first? The whiff he’d gotten from the floor had clearly been the catalyst for sending him on his way to the Memory Den. Where we’d found you. I started wondering if you had been attacked and were trying to cover it up because you had wandered out of the hotel against my express advice.

But that didn’t make sense either. Dogmeat would have followed on to your next direct destination following the Hotel Rexford. You said that you had gone to the Third Rail for a drink. But Dogmeat hadn’t led me there. He’d gone straight to the Memory Den.

The next morning only deepened my suspicions. You put on a smiling face but you were limping. Holding your stomach. And most of the time you were zoned in and out of conversation; like you were off in another world. You only really seemed to engage when someone called your name directly. I’ve seen plenty of folks like that in my time. People who’ve only just experienced trauma and are still working to overcome it.

I didn’t want to risk upsetting you any further but if someone had hurt you, or was planning to continue hurting you, then I wanted to know. So, that morning I told you I was just heading out to check in with some of my old clients. Remember? Truth be told, I actually went to the Third Rail. I spoke with Hank and Whitechaple Charlie; to see whether either of them remembered you. Fortunately, your appearance is distinct, so it made life a lot simpler.

They both confirmed that you hadn’t been in that night. Ham reiterated that if someone had taken a stumble on the steps and bashed their face in that he would most _definitely_ remember it. They were reluctant to disclose whether Fahrenheit had been in but Charlie eventually owned up and stated that she also hadn’t been in attendance.

So, your story was a hoax. Question is; why? What were you and Fahrenheit complicit in covering up? What on earth could your interests run congruent on? I returned to the Hotel Rexford with even more questions than I had to begin with.

That’s when I noticed how oddly Marowski was behaving. Odder than usual, that is. Historically, the guy barely comes out of his office. Even takes his meals and drinks in there. But suddenly, he develops this latent social quality and starts hanging out in the lobby with all the guests. He especially appears to have taken a strong interest in Eve; standing behind her when addressing all of us at the table. Petting her shoulder when exiting the conversation. Brushing past her down the hallway. And Eve never the once looked at him in return. Her eyes turned to marbles in her skull whenever he was around. She would stare, blankly into the void. But then, just the once, I saw her bottom lip tremble and her eyes started to well. She excused herself to go the toilet. Marowski had posted himself by the toilet door itself and she had to pass him. Her shoulders hunched in like she was afraid he was going to strike her as she went past.

But he just smiled at her, watching until she went through the door. And then he took himself up to the bar for another drink. I tried to watch him without looking as though I was watching him, which is not as easy as you might think in Goodneighbor. Folks often make a point of reminding others to keep their business to their business. But it was Marowski’s office that Dogmeat had led me to. It couldn’t just be coincidence that he was now behaving so strangely.

And sure enough, as he lifted his drink, I noticed it for the first time. Wrapped around his little finger like some lurid ring and still wreathed with hair from what I could say. Eve’s hairband. I recognized it because it was her favourite shade of blue and it had snapped previously when she had been tying her hair one morning after our camping out in the Wasteland. It had sprung back and the small metal join had opened up a welt on the back of her hand. She had tied it together to form a small knot beneath the steel bind; which shortened the length of the band considerably. And gave it a very distinct appearance.

It was the very same band that she had used to tie her hair back before leaving the hotel room that night.

Now, there could be any number of explanations for why Marowski had it. Eve might have lost it and he might have picked it up. For whatever reason. Perhaps he was infatuated with her and had stolen it as some sort of keepsake. Given that it had traces of her hair still caught around it. It would explain why he was buzzing around her so much.

But if this was the case, I would expect that Eve would be uncomfortable but unfailingly polite, as she always is. Not awkward and skittish. Not to mention there was the stain on Marowski’s office floor that Dogmeat had been sniffing. And that terrible smell that had pervaded the air... No, something had gone on between the two of them. And judging from the injuries that Eve had sustained, I doubt whatever it was had been consensual.

I decided to bring my concerns to you, Hancock. Because I felt I had enough evidence to justify your looking into it. I’ve known you your whole life and I knew for certain that you would take such a matter seriously; given your severe stance on exploitation and sexual assault. You should remember the conversation. You assumed that I had come to warn you away from Eve. You advised me that you weren’t planning on chasing after anyone who was still mourning the death of their spouse. That you were, how did you put it? Throwing your hat into the ring for future reference? Getting a jump on the competition, or something to that extent.

In any event, we didn’t get far with the conversation. Fahrenheit arrived with some emergency that she directed you to go and deal with. Once alone, she came straight out and told me that knew I’d been sniffing around about what had happened to Eve and that it was better for everyone that I leave it alone. I told her I couldn’t do that; not if my suspicions about what had occurred were true. She asked me to further clarify my stance and I stated that I believed that Marowski had sexually assaulted Eve under violent circumstance. And that he did perhaps _have_ something on her because she hadn’t reported him or informed any of us what had happened but instead became complicit in some sort of cover-up story.

Fahrenheit up and confirmed everything that I had said. She then went one further and informed me of the delicate balance the town currently maintained between Hancock and his crew and the Triggermen. She stated that Eve had agreed to maintain her silence out of respect for the town and for the mayor and that if I in turn had any respect for Eve I would observe her judgement on the matter and leave well enough alone.

I could understand where Fahrenheit was coming from. Ultimately, a civil war in Goodneighbor would bode ill fortune not just for the township itself, but for the Commonwealth at large. Hancock, you run a tight ship here. If the Triggermen were to join ranks and get it in their heads to storm the town; the entire Commonwealth would suffer for it.”

He paused for a moment; closing his eyes and offering up one of the saddest sounding sighs I had ever heard.

“And… if it was Eve’s decision to bear this terrible thing in silence, then what could I do but respect that?

So, I never brought it up with her. What I _did_ do however, was confront Marowski. I wanted him to know that _I_ knew. I walked straight into his office that night, pointed my gun right at his face and told him to hand over the hairband. Because damned if _I_ was going to let him keep anything belonging to Evelyn.

Of course, he had stowed it away somewhere and wasn’t interested in returning it. A difficult negotiation, given that Stan had _his_ gun pointed at my head the whole while.

I told Marowski I knew what he did. I advised that I would be keeping quiet on the matter but that if he ever went near you again Eve, that I would pump so many bullets into the miserable bastard the only thing they’d find was his feet still stuffed into his shoes.

He laughed. And then he thanked me. And I’ve never hated myself so much for anything in my entire existence. Because I should have just shot him; to hell with the consequences.

But I made a promise that night. That I’d never let anything like that _ever_ happen to you again. That I would watch over you and protect you until the moment you made it to the Institute and had your boy safe in your arms again.”

He looked over at me now; his eyes sparking with great intensity.

“I also swore that anyone who I would entrust the same task to, would have to understand just how important that responsibility was. That they’d take the job as seriously as I did.” His gaze dropped to the floor once more. “ _That’s_ why I was so hard on you, Hancock. You haven’t taken much seriously in life. I just… needed to make sure that of all things, you took _this_ seriously.”

Eve’s face contorted into an expression that suggested something foul smelling had just wafted under her nose. He gaze whipped back and forth between Nick and me; frowning. Astonished.

“Jesus Christ… I’m assaulted _once_ and now you’re telling me that I was constantly babysat this past year?” She jabbed her finger to her chest; clearly irritated with the both of us. “I _am_ proficient in martial arts, you know. And I’m a pretty big gal, with equally big fists. I’m not the fucking Hope Diamond!”

“No.” I said, shaking my head and giving her a look now. One that suggested she would do well to look at things from _our_ point of view. “You’re more priceless than any diamond. At least where _I’m_ concerned.”

“And I _know_ that now.” Nick stated, slipping both hands into his pockets and for the first time, offering me one of those smiles he most often reserved for his more panic stricken of clients. Gentle. Soothing. “I knew it as soon as you told me… what you told me back at the _Rolling Ranch._ ”

Eve rolled her eyes. “Jesus, _this_ again. What _was_ it that you told him that apparently convinced Nick of your all consuming love for me, John?”

“If you must know, I told him a location and a series of numbers.” I held up my hand and distended my fingers, one at a time as I itemized. “The location is where my personal safe is secreted away; containing my accumulated wealth, a few personal documents and my recently drafted Last Will and Testament. The numbers open the safe.” I sighed, my mind drifting back to the past just as Nick’s had done mere minutes earlier. “I thought… I wasn’t going to make it through the night. So I asked Nick to leave me, because I was a lost cause. I told him to get you and the others out. And once you were safe and everything had calmed down, to take you to the safe.”

No one spoke a word and Eve’s irritated expression had disappeared; only to be replaced by one of deep reverence. She looked at me; blinking rapidly. Not entirely comprehending as of yet, I don’t think.

“I placed instructions in my last Will and Testament. In the event of my death, it is to be brought back to Goodneighbor and read in the presence of certain ascribed person’s.” I pointed to Eve. “You’re one of them.”

Eve gaped at me in pure bewilderment; her fingers fluttering over the join in her dressing gown. She didn’t seem to quite know how to take this news.

“You’ve… put me in your _will_?”

I scoffed, amazed that she could even ask this question. Amazed that she found it so difficult to believe; in spite of knowing just how deeply I loved her. How, more than anything, I desperately wanted for her to be safe and loved and cared for in this world. To be able to provide for her son, when she finally rescued him from the Institute.

“Of _course_ I did.” I said and Eve looked away, pressing her lips together and then swinging her eyes back up towards the ceiling. Trying not to cry again, I think.

“When Hancock put you and the others before himself, I knew that he was no longer selfish.” Nick stated, which I don’t think helped Eve keep herself together any. I could see she was fighting hard against the wave of emotions that were no doubt crashing against the shores of her mind. “When he told me that he had placed you in his will, I knew that he loved you. I knew that his only concern was that his death would benefit _you_ in some way. All he cared about was yours and your son’s survival and continued comfort in this world.” He smiled softly at her. “That’s why I didn’t come along with you on the last stretch. Because I didn’t need to. You already have the greatest protector you could possibly have.” He rolled a shoulder towards me. “And so does he. Together, you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

Eve gave a small, knowing smile in return. “So… your work was done then?”

“I knew you would be offended if I were to say it out loud.” Nick said with a sigh. “It sounds… condescending.”

“And kind of sexist too.” Piper remarked before then adding, with a shrug: “Well, it would be, if I knew for a fact that you didn’t try and take care of ALL the girls the same way, Nick.”

“Exactly.”

Eve raked her fingernails back through her hair. “It’s okay. I mean… I’m a little annoyed but I’m not offended. You guys… all you wanted to do was try and support me. Which means…” She started welling up again. “Which means you really, truly care about me.”

“Oh God, here we go again.” I said, limping across the room to retrieve her from around Piper. I slipped my arm about her shoulders and pulled her back to press to my side. “I’m surprised you’ve _got_ any waterworks left in ya, sister. Any more tears and you’ll dry out so much you’ll start looking like me.”

She laughed as she wiped at her eyes with the cord of the dressing gown. “Sorry. I just… I feel so lucky to have all of you. How could I be angry that all you guys wanted was to see me succeed? That you’ve stood up for me at every turn, levelled guns at people who’ve threatened me, truly _believe_ in me?” She turned that soft and warm smile towards Nick. “And Nick, despite John being cross _and_ overly hard on you –” This was aimed very pointedly up towards me. “– none of this was your fault either. You didn’t _fail_ me. We need to stick together on this and trying to pin blame on one another or hold others to unrealistic expectations is only letting the bad guys win. _None_ of you were to blame for this. Nick, you were keeping an eye on Piper and the others. She’d barely escaped being assassinated that some day. Something I don’t think you were the least aware of when you were trying to make him feel bad about staying back in the room, John.”

“No, I… didn’t know that.” I acknowledged, starting to feel that I had jumped on Nick with little to no cause. Not the most moral thing to do when you weren’t in possession of all the facts. Great. Now I felt a right proper fuckhead. Why was Eve so _good_ at steering me around to her way of thinking?

“And Nick’s far too moral to say otherwise. It was, in fact, _her_ safety with which we were all concerned. Not mine. I’d only BEEN here in the Commonwealth for a few months. No one suspected that was long enough to make enemies. But Piper has hundreds of them. We were trying to protect her.” She reached across to squeeze her hand to Piper’s wrist. “And in that vein, it’s not _your_ fault that you didn’t magically hear me, Piper. I didn’t call for help, I didn’t scream. And you were exhausted and out like a light when I left the room.”

Piper took a long, slow breath in and out. The sheen covering her eyes suggested that she didn’t entirely buy into what Eve was saying. Like Nick, like me, like Fahrenheit, she didn’t seem to especially want forgiveness.

“I just feel like, if it hadn’t been for my journalism, for the fact that I’ve _made_ all these enemies-”

“Don’t.” Eve said, cutting her off firmly. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault, _when_ are you guys gonna get that through your heads?”

Cait shot Eve a very piercing look. “So long as you realize that it’s not your fault either, Evie. And you’re not weak for using your body as a bargaining chip.” She turned back towards Meaghan; who was making up a cocktail behind the bar. “Same goes for you.”

Meaghan clucked dismissively as she trotted towards us, handing Eve the delicate little glass. “Still hard not to feel shame sometimes.”

“Yeah.” Eve agreed, taking the glass and sipping from it before continuing. “It’s damn hard. But we’re just gonna have to work that outta our systems, Meg. Because the only person at fault is Marowski. He _chose_ to do these things to us. He had a choice to practice kindness and support people in this town but instead, he’s chosen to prey on others and victimize the vulnerable.” She lifted her gaze towards me now. “And John; you didn’t fail this town for not seeing that. You haven’t _failed_ as Mayor. And you sure as shit never failed _me._ ”

“Here, here.” Came a gruff sounding voice from somewhere unseen. I looked over to see Meyer’s fist pumping just above the countertop; behind which he was no doubt hidden. Eve stared at his hand curiously.

“Meyer? How long you been squatting back there?

“Ain’t squatting.” He replied, his fist sinking back down out of sight. “Meg’s making me sleep on the floor until knock off time. She’s _merciless_.”

“Yeah, well that’s what you get for being a damn fool and going off your face like that.” Meaghan said, tossing her hair haughtily. “Not to mention you missed the garbage man because you decided it was more important to go and sit on the toilet for a good fifteen minutes.”

“What did you want me to do woman, shit my pants?” Meyer exclaimed, his head popping up into view now. He still looked tired as hell and didn’t get much further than perching his chin on the countertop. “Anyway, I agree with everything Eve is sayin’. No more of the blame game. Let’s direct all those feelings outwards instead of inward and put that douchebag Marowski square in the spotlight, eh?”

Cait smirked, perching her hands confidently against her hips. “Couldn’t have said it better meself. I wanna nail that son of a bitch but good.”

Nick tilted his head towards me, expression serious. “For what it’s worth; I apologize for having been so hard on you this past year, Hancock. I… should have had more faith in you.”

I sighed; relenting in what little remained of my anger. Which wasn’t much. “Look… I can’t say I blame you entirely. After all, you do have forty-six years of history to back up your reservations.”

“A good detective can’t help but build up an argument based on evidence.”

He got a laugh out of me with this one.

“True. Well, just glad I proved you wrong in the end.”

“Not as glad as I was.”

“And I’m sorry I jumped down your throat like that. I got no place accusin’ you of negligence. Ya don’t deserve that after everythin’ ya done.”

Nick stared off into the wall again. “Problem is I felt like I did.”

“And you’ve been living in penance this past year, feeling you had to somehow make it up to me.” Eve said, shaking a finger at Nick as though he were a naughty child in need of reprimanding. “But you need to _stop_ that now. Thankyou but no more. I release you from your bonds of servitude, Nick Valentine!”

I held up a hand, indicating for her to ease up. “Wait just a moment, let’s not jump the gun too soon on the whole “releasing” thing. There _is_ something I think you might be able to help me with Valentine.” I flashed a smile towards the old bot; seeing, from the look on his eyes, what his reply would be. “That is, if you’re up for one last job? I’ll pay of course.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed; his brows pinning them down towards the center of his face. “If it has to do with Marowski, I’ll run it _pro bono._ ”

“That means he won’t charge you for his services.” Eve whispered into my ear. I rolled my eyes at her.

“Yes, I knew that much _thankyou._ ” I turned my attention now to Dogmeat. “This job’ll include you as well, pooch. Reckon you’re up to it? Even after your mother assaulted you so hideously earlier?”

Dogmeat barked confidently as Eve groaned from somewhere just below my chin.

“Please don’t bring that up again. I feel bad enough as it is.”

“What happened exactly?” Piper asked, and though Eve obviously felt ashamed for how she had behaved, so still chested up and told the truth of the matter.

“I was trying to get Dogmeat into the bath and I was so messed up and frustrated that I clipped him round the jaw.”

Piper’s eyes widened in shock; perhaps just as surprised as I was to find out that Eve had taken to her much beloved child. “Oh, poor puppy!”

“Oh, poor puppy nothing. Like being tickled on the ass with a feather.” I grumbled, turning back towards Nick. More concerned with getting things moving than concerning myself with Dogmeat and his not at all debilitating injury. “Marowski’s gone on the run and we could use a good nose like Dogmeat’s to try and track him down. From what you told me, he managed to track Kellogg across the Commonwealth on any even colder trail?”

Nick nodded. “That he did. He should have no trouble sniffing down Marowski. Guaranteed we can get his scent off of something.”

I pointed back the way we came. “Plenty of his clothes scattered all over the upstairs hallway of the Hotel Rexford. Could you take Dogmeat there and try him out with some of his belongings? See if he can catch a whiff? And if he does, grab some of the boys and get them to follow along. I want this bastard apprehended alive if possible.”

“I’ll see to it.” Nick said, tipping his hat and casting a fatherly smile at both Eve and myself. “Now; you two _really_ ought to be running along. If I’m not mistaken, you have a date you should be getting to.”

“You’re not wrong there. God what a long day this has been!” Eve groaned, sinking her face against the side of my neck. “Can’t wait until it’s just the two of us alone and we can actually relax.”

Cait snorted a laugh. “I don’t think _relaxing_ is what Hancock has in mind, love.”

“Hey come on now, no spoilers!” I scolded, lifting my hand to caress the side of Eve’s face with my fingers. I leaned in and pressed a kiss gently to her lips. Relieved to see that she was smiling. And happy. And knowing soon, _very_ soon, we would be in one another’s arms. Absorbed on all sides with the others touch, caress and love. “I’ll see you at six, darlin’.”

“Be seeing more of _you_ at seven.” Eve joked, laughing at the look of exaggerated shock I flashed back at her as I stepped out of her embrace. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I heard Meyer groan from over by the counter top. “Jesus Christ, you two – reign it in! Whatya need to be doing convincing each other of the fact all the time?”

I frowned over in his direction. “Hey, just because your own missus never says it to you ain’t no reason to go casting a shadow over _our_ love.”

“We don’t need to say it.” Meyer stated, bringing his arms up to rest the side of his dreary face against. “We _know_ we love each other; we don’t have any insecurities or constant need for affirmation. Do we baby?”

Meaghan, examining her hair in a small handheld vanity, didn’t respond to him. Meyer’s expression took on a slight hint of desperation; purely hammed up for entertainments sake of course.

“Baby?”

Meaghan continued to ignore him, tilting her face from side to side; as though thoroughly examining her makeup from every angle. Meyer shot up like a Stingwing from a wicker basket; eyes blazing with hysterical insecurity.

“ _ANSWER ME, BABY!!”_

We all burst into laughter at this; the serious vibe of the room relaxing considerably. Meaghan of course dropped the pretence of ignoring her husband and trotted over to the counter to cup his face and give him a kiss; assuring him that she _did_ in fact love him. I gave Eve’s hand a quick squeeze before making my way over to the counter as well. One more thing to deal with before I could rest comfortably into the remainder of the evening.

“Meg, look. Sorry about before. You know… breaking your glass and all that.”

She glared haughtily at me from the corners of her eyes before turning and foisting her nose in the air. The very picture of indifference. Of course, I knew the process just as well as perhaps Meyer did. I’d known Meg just as long and she had been pulling this diva-esque like performance for many years now.

“Any way I can make it up to you?”

She glanced off to the side as though only barely considering the entertaining of my presence. She crossed her arms and pouted. “Well, I don’t know. That _was_ one of my favourite glasses. It wasn’t chipped like all the others…”

I sighed, knowing full well what she was after without her even needing to name it.

“Go and grab the paperwork then.”

Meaghan’s fingers danced down to the counter, snatching up a piece of paper already resting within reach and whooshed it over to rest in front of me. “Already got it waiting for you.” She said, taking a pen out of Meyer’s proffered hand. Jesus and I thought Eve and I made a dangerous team.

“Oh and you even had the pen ready.” I said sarcastically, leaning forwards so that I could quickly skim the page over. Making good and certain I wasn’t signing some alliterated piece that stipulated twenty percent of town funding to Meaghan’s shop on a month by month basis. Wouldn’t have put it past the cheeky dame. “How nice that you feel so confident in my contriteness.”

Meaghan didn’t bite at this but pointed straight to the bottom of the page. All business now it suited her.

“There’s some room down here.”

“Yes, I can see that thankyou.” I muttered, having finished reading over the paper and concluding that nothing had changed since the last time I had made changes to the contract. I moved to the blank piece of the page and in my very neatest writing added:

 _Addendum: Scalice Boutique rental costs now covered from the month of October_ 2288 _to March of the year 2289. Eighty percent of power costs shall furthermore be covered by the Mayor’s Office and seventy percent of water output._

I leaned back to allow Meaghan to peruse the paper. “How’s that?”

She ‘hmmed’ softly to herself; tapping one of those perfect fingernails to her chin as she looked the addendum over.

“Hmm… I might be in a little more of a forgiving mood if I could perhaps see something in the addendum about a percentage covering cost of materials?”

I scoffed a laugh and pushed the offered paper back towards her. “Don’t push your luck. It wasn’t that good of a glass. And I only care so much, sister.”

Meyer groaned, sinking his face down against the bridge of his arms. “Brother. You’re entering into a serious, long term relationship and _you are not playing the game right._ ” He jabbed his fingertip against the counter top, lowering his voice as though distributing state secrets. _“_ This is _not_ how we shackled men say we’re sorry to the women we love.”

“What the hell do you mean, shackled?” Meaghan snapped, to which Meyer gestured to the floor upon which he was currently kneeling.

“I mean that I’m sleeping on the floor right now because my wife won’t let me go home unsupervised. _That’s_ what I mean by shackled!”

I quirked a brow at him; not buying into the conditions of this arrangement I had apparently walked myself into. “I thought it was only your own girl that you were supposed to get your knees dirty for.” I tilted my head towards Meaghan. “No offense Meg, but it’s not _my_ dick your sucking.”

Meyer loosed a chuckle. “You say that like you think she might actually be sucking _my dick_ occasionally, _Capo_.” He held up a solitary finger. “Though it _is_ Christmas day after tomorrow…”

I laughed at the look of despair clouding over Meg’s face and clapped a hand to her shoulder.

“Okay look; Meg, if there are any materials that you genuinely need support in acquiring you _know_ I’ll help you. The town coffers can’t afford to commit to an ongoing amount however. Just where required, yeah?”

She considered a moment, before offering up a proud toss of her head. “I _suppose_ I can live with that.”

“You are a goddess of mercy.” I said, scribbling out my signature on the form and then waiting for Meaghan to do the same alongside. “Okay. We cool?”

Meaghan gave a haughty little ‘hmm’ as she examined the paper. Finding it to her satisfaction she gave the smallest smile in my direction.

“We’re good. For now.”

“That’s my girl.” I said, catching her around the shoulders and giving her cheek a kiss before turning and struggling my way back towards the door. I called back over my shoulder. “Oh and everything you do for Munch tonight? Just charge it to my account.”

“Oh, John don’t be so silly!” Eve protested but I waved a hand in her direction to shut her down.

“It’s not being silly.” I stated, flashing her a wink. “I’m just learning how to… play the game.”

Meyer gave a whoop and pumped his arm with the same strength as seen in a Brotherhood Vertibird.

“THAT’S MY BOY!!” He roared, etching a smile from me as I scooted back across the room to give Eve one last kiss. Because... why the hell not? After we had parted, I passed my lips over to her ear; giving the lobe a quick suck before lowering my voice to what I hoped was my most sensual affect yet.

“Thanks for the bath, sweetness.” I whispered and she chuckled softly, placing a small peck to the side of my neck.

“Anytime, my lover.” She murmured, looking into my eyes as I stepped away. Even with her eyes swollen and sore, she looked beautiful. The warmth and softness of her expression was the very thing that accentuated the entire package. “I’ll see you at six.”

“With bells on.” I said, tipping the brim of my hat as I slid back out through the doors and into the afternoon. It was then and only then that I permitted the smile to slip down off of my face.

I didn’t want to let Eve know about my concerns; thinking it was pointless when the two of us just needed to leave this shit alone for a while. But the thought had penetrated my mind so deeply whilst Nick had been talking and I hadn’t quite been able to shake it. It dogged me all the way down the alley and chased me inside of the Third Rail; gnawing at the edges of my mind with such fervor that I simply wasn’t able to shelve it. I contemplated. I fretted. And feared.

Because Fahrenheit had been right. The photographs, though awful, had been only secondary trophies. Marowski’s true prize, his treasured keepsake, was an _item_ belonging to the victim.

The band he had taken from Eve’s hair. The band that Nick said had still held strands of Eve’s hair. Marowski had been wearing it around his pinkie finger like some kind of perverse ring.

He still had a part of Eve with him. And this was the thought that I was finding so very difficult to shake. Even with the night ahead spread out before me like the most beautiful and sumptuous of feasts; ripe with all the amazing, wonderful things we would do, I wasn’t able to shake the nasty feeling I had gnawing at my guts.

That there was something more to this. Something I hadn’t yet been able to either grasp or appreciate. And it all came back to that hairband.

I gave my head a firm shake to clear it. No. I wasn’t going to do this anymore. I had the whole of tomorrow to mull this out. Tonight, I would be Eve’s and Eve’s alone. I would show her everything I had dreamt of since the moment I had dedicated myself to her cause. All my desires lain bare. We would make love finally and it would be beyond anything I could possibly have imagined. Soon… _hours,_ if anything. And I wanted to be ready. Wanted to make certain it was a night that she would never forget. That I would drive to ruin the memory of all that Marowski had done to her and sow in its place a tribute of passion and love such as she’d never before known.

My spirits lifted, I offered a passing ‘afternoon’ to Ham as I made my way down into the Third Rail. Less than two hours to go. Time to get to work.

**~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Welcome to the end of the chapter. Finally! Longest haul I've ever had. Thanks for your patience with this one guys! I was hoping to get to the date in this chapter but it went on longer than expected! Now however, NOW – I can guarantee that the next chapter will definitely be date night. And then, sex chapter. So much sex. I am gonna sex it up SO hard you will all sincerely doubt that I am actually in my thirties and married. You shall mistake me for a rather eloquent and verbose thirteen year old, oh yes you will.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed and as always thanks for your continued support with this project! Please continue to show it by leaving a comment, kudo’s um… writing a poem? Whatever form takes your fancy really J As always, be kind to one another and let’s all do our best to ignore the fact that we might very soon be living in a fallout universe ourselves. Please stop testing out hydrogen H bombs Kim Jong-Un. The only way this can be justified is if it one day brings the actual John Hancock into existence. The… Fallout 4 one, not the real life one. That would be a creepy zombie. Not… even a zombie. Like, a pile of dust. Not sexy.
> 
>  
> 
> Take care out there everyone and I can’t wait to bring you the next few chapters! They should be SO much easier to write than all THIS K-Pop drama!
> 
> Love always,
> 
> ~MadamMortis~ xxx ooo


	17. Reawakening: Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I dug deep and mustered up some of that strength I kept in my reserve tanks; not wanting any of this shit to lay waste to the remainder of our evening... . I reached for him; pulled him in and pressed my lips to his cheek. Wrapped my arms around those gorgeous shoulders of his and pulled him tight to me; felt his cheek push to the side of my head. And for just those few moments, the rest of the world faded into meaninglessness. There was just him… the touch of him. All it took for everything else to fall into alignment and make perfect sense out of all that gnarled muddle...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Fallout 4 does not belong to me. Never has, never will. Can’t even say I own rights to a mod. Very under-accomplished over here.
> 
> A/N: Hi everyone. Wasn’t sure when and if I was gonna be back from hiatus but I’m doing pretty well and regardless of whatever folks out there are thinking of the work, I really do genuinely want to continue with this. So, we have date night! Which culminates, in script form, at just over one hundred and twenty pages or so. As such, it’s going to be cut into three parts. (You guys are used to this, I know). I finished the first half cleanly and was gonna keep going and post all three parts in one go but I thought, bugger it. This part is finished; there's no point in it just sitting around gathering dust. I’ll get this one out to you guys, whilst continuing with cleaning up the other two parts. 
> 
> So, no sex in this section sorry but by part three, we’ll definitely be there! (SPOILER ALERT!!) And I’m still working on them; this is just to keep some progress going in the meantime! 
> 
> So, warnings for this chapter: Sexual… stuff. Insinuations, mainly. Swearing, of course. Not too much else to worry about. Mainly allusions to past stuff. Hope you enjoy and more to come! Chat to you towards the end of the chapter! Much love, guys! Xxx ooo

 

> _“When love awakens in your life, in the night of your heart, it is like the dawn breaking within you. Where before there was anonymity, now there is intimacy; where before there was fear, now there is courage; where before in your life there was awkwardness, now there is a rhythm of grace and gracefulness; where before you used to be jagged, now you are elegant and in rhythm with yourself.”_ _~ John O'Donohue ~_

**Evelyn Hallows**

**_Five-months ago..._ **

I woke, skin sweaty, head swimming and bemused by the very vivid dream I'd been having about the Nuka-Girl and I being kidnapped by Martian's and forced to do a strip-tease in order to earn our freedom. I could still hear their jeering 'boo's' ringing in my metaphorical ears as they hurled space tomato's at me, because I was too fat and heavy to swing around the glowing dance pole they'd erected for our use.

" - I told you, I can't _dance!"_ I remember sobbing, blinking crusty eyes that were even more useless than ever. I couldn't see the face hovering above mine but I felt a cool, wonderful pressure against my forehead. A cloth of some sort. It moved around under my chin, down over my cheeks and neck; which I realized were burning hot.

Where was I? What was going on...? My face felt sore and painful, my stomach was cramped and twisted. I was hot, bothered and as dozy as a cow that had been sideswiped by a runaway tractor in a clover field. Felt all too much like the flu...

I must have been sick... home from work. Someone was taking care of me.

"Nate?" I whispered blearily at the blurry face that hovered above my own. I reached up for it; fingers fading into the blur as my eyesight disintegrated at the very borders of my vision. I heard a deep voice chuckling; quite unlike Nate's and my already trembling body began to shake all the more. Oh God... don't tell me I'd fallen into bed in a drugged up stupor and some asshole had taken advantage of my ill state to rob the house and have their wicked way with me. I brought my hands in tight and tugged my arms up around my head.

"Oh God... just... take the television and leave the dog!" I begged, my foggy brain flying out in all directions. Didn't we have a ... Mr Handy bot? Wadsworth... no, it was like a fishes name. Something to do with fish... Troutsworth! No... that didn't sound right either. Jesus, where was he? Why wasn't he helping me?

I tried to sit up, my sweaty back sticking to the sheet beneath me. I wasn't wearing anything on my top half and whatever had been draped across me slid down to my waist before I was able to get a hold of it. I grabbed it up, bringing it snug about my breasts again and flailed my arm at the strange, pale looking blurred man that  was sitting perched on the bedside.

"Leave me alone!" I yelled, my head ringing with the force it took just to speak even _that_ loudly. I flinched, bringing my hand back now to press to my forehead. _Christ..._ I couldn't even _remember_ the last time I felt so ill. "If you... you even _try_ and touch me bucko, I swear to all that is Holy that I will cough phlegm all over you!!"

Another chuckle from the man and then the soothing touch of the cool cloth; against the bare stretch of my back now. In spite of my fear, I felt myself sinking back into it. Oh God... felt so good. Felt _exactly_ like what my body needed.

"Well, if you've got that much fight in you, I'm guessing you're over the worst of it." The man said and with our faces now this close, I was able to see the glowing of the yellow eyes... the gaps through which wire was exposed...

It was... _Nick._ Of course... Nick... Valentine. The Synth. The Detective. My friend.

I wasn't home in bed... I was... two-hundred years past that point. _Ahead of it, rather._

Nate... Nate was dead. And Shaun... Shaun was in the Institute.

I remember now... I'd been travelling with the others. There'd been a lot of rain and we'd camped out a few days in one of the more offbeat settlements we had stumbled across thus far. A lot of kids had been sick and coughing their poor little lungs up every which way. I was sympathetic but also, more than a little concerned. I'd seen what the future had done to your run of the mill flying, buzzing bug variety and suspected it had done no favors for the physical health related ones. I'd spent most of my time there with Hancock's handkerchief firmly (and most likely, offensively) pressed over my nose and mouth; trying to keep myself from getting infected. Clearly, I hadn't been at all successful.

My eyes were able to focus enough to see Nick smile down at me as he continued to dab across my spine and shoulders with the damp cloth. "Can't lie and say you didn't have us half worried, kid. Weren't sure if your immune system was gonna be able to kick this on its own. And then you went and got that chest infection to boot..."

"How... long have I been out for?" I mumbled, trying to stumble back inelegantly through my memory. The last thing I could recall was coughing and spluttering horribly; trying to pull my ass up out of bed but only getting so far as to... oh shit. Vomit all over the floor. Christ almighty... how embarrassing.

"Four... going on five days now." Nick said, turning to dip the cloth into a bowl he had at his side. He squeezed it between steel and synthetic hand before then reaching back over towards me. "Just going to dab the upper part of your chest now. Promise I won't look."

"It's... okay..." I said, still feeling far too weak and awful to put up anything resembling a struggle. I knew Nick wasn't the type to take advantage and besides, he'd just seen them anyway.

Wait... four, _five_ days? Without getting up to...?

I reached down under the blankets and felt for my knickers; slipped my fingers inside. Sure enough; lined with a continence pad. Oh god. So _someone_ had been changing me. Could this get any better?

Nick must have noticed the look of embarrassment on my face, because he smiled in a consoling fashion before wiping the cloth gently up under my ear. "Don't worry. The girls and Codsworth have been changing you when needed. And there wasn't much outtake; given that you haven't been eating anything. Could barely get you conscious long enough to get water into you. Hancock eventually set up a drip and got enough fluids in to keep you going."

I'm not sure who was more surprised by this information; Nick _or_ me. "Hancock... managed to...?"

"Well, ya don't gotta sound so shocked, Munch." Came a smooth familiar voice from somewhere over Nick's shoulder. I managed to focus my dozy eyes towards the shanty's dividing doorway and could just make out Hancock standing there; arms crossed and a rather self-satisfied smile on his face. "'Bout time for you to rise and shine. How you proppin' up?"

I made good and certain my sheet was up tight about my bosom area before responding. "Feels like... I've been mowed over by a pack Brahmin." I stated, bringing my eyes shut just long enough to fight through another stab of pain as it jabbed into my temporal lobe. "But... I'm awake. And alive. Thanks to you guys."

Nick returned the cloth to the bowl before gesturing back towards Hancock with a roll of his shoulder. "Much as it pains me to admit it; it's _this_ one you should be thanking for the hard work. Once he got that solution into ya, he made tracks for the nearest settlement to find a doctor. Don't think he stopped running 'til he made it back here with enough antibiotics to run his own hospital."

"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle. Nick Valentine, actually giving little old me some praise for a change." Hancock said, smirking teasingly as he padded his way to the side of the bedroll. He eased himself down and took up my left arm; which I only just noticed had a cannula piercing the vein, that was linked to a long, pale cord that trailed out of sight behind my head. "Now that you're up and talkin' Munch, I'm thinkin' ya won't wanna have this bad boy starin' up at ya anymore. Let's just... get that out for ya..."

He disconnected the drip feed before gently easing the needle out, pressing down with his thumb on the puncture point once it was free. A small speck of blood appeared but he quickly stoppered it with a circular band aid that he frisked from his coat pocket. Holding me by the wrist, he got me to bring my arm back in towards my chest; smiling in that almost same soothing manner that Nick was currently directing at me. I cocked my head again; staring into his face. The discoloration of his already irradiated flesh; especially in the awnings beneath his eyes. His upper lids looked droopy and he was blinking a lot.

"You're... exhausted..." I observed, feeling it a stupid and obvious thing to say but unable to keep from speaking it aloud all the same. Hancock glanced downward, chuckling in that self-mocking manner that was so his character when he felt he'd been caught out in a moment of weakness.

"I'll be fine, Munch. Nap's all this old man needs. Just glad we managed to yank you back from the light." He staggered up onto his feet and set to removing what looked like a bladder of clear fluid from the wall. When he was done, he bundled them beneath his arm before leaning back down and giving my hair a ruffle. I did my very best to smile past the pain and the nausea that still rolled through me as seemingly eternal and persistent as the waves of the ocean.

"Thank you..." I murmured, imagining for just a moment how truly tired he must be. How far he must have run... Because last I remember, we hadn't seen anything so much as resembling a settlement for days. It was a hell of a thing to do.

He just made a sort of 'bah' noise, dismissing the importance of what he had done with that one simple noise alone. "Didn't have anything else to do." He said, smiling to show that he was joking before turning and heading back towards the doorway. "I'll steralize  this stuff and get Piper ta bring you in some water. They'll be relieved to see you up and... well, _up_ at the very least, eh?"

As he stepped out of sight; through the blurry fog of my vision again, I turned and thanked Nick as well for what he had done. He was just as modest as Hancock; good naturedly shrugging off what I knew must have been a great deal of effort and worry on their part. Four to five days of constant care and vigilance... it wasn't anything to be dismissive of.

"He hasn't touched a Chem since you became unwell." Nick stated, lifting one of my arms to apply the cloth to my armpit. If the heat from here hadn't been so intense I might have flung my arm down in embarrassment; aware that I'd gone almost a week without shaving beneath them. "When we couldn't wake you and get you to take any water... well, I think that's the first time I've seen him close to melt down. All he could think about was making sure he did the right thing with the drip."

"Hancock, you mean?" I said, dopily. Another statement of the freakin' obvious but hey, give a girl a break. I was sick as a dog and my body was likely attempting to devour its own stomach out of desperation. There was only so many things I could be concrete on.

Nick, to his credit didn't mock me but simply nodded as he once again returned the cloth to the basin. "Guess he figured that... taking the Chems just weren't the risk."

I tittered a little to myself. "Well... I'm sure he's probably out there making up for lost time as we speak."

But Hancock surprised us all and kept off of the Chems for the following week and a bit of my recovery. He was a little crankier than usual; more sharp and to the point where the others were concerned but seemed to exercise endless patience and tolerance when it came to me. He read to me a lot; spoon fed me when I was too weak to lift the spoon to my own lips and helped me get up and go to the toilet when needed. Assured me with each passing moment that I lay there, feeling like the biggest, most useless and unproductive burden ever that everything was _fine._ That I needed to be well and fit and strong enough to continue making my way to the Institute.

You think I might have realized then; just what manner of affections the man had been nursing for me. Plain as day to the others of course. But all I knew for certain was how safe and how comforted I felt; knowing I had someone like him at my side. And from him I perhaps drew that greatest feeling of security and strength; trusting my care and my body, in its greatest state of weakness, to someone whom I had once been so terribly frightened of. I think it may have been then; wrapped in those horrible, stinking and sweaty sheets, that  those first, intrinsic stirrings of love surely started forming. The way a concentrated circle of light beams heat to the gathered kindling a desperate survivor forms beneath it; stirring it ever onward into greater intensity with each delicate breath of air to its very core.

**_Third Floor of_ _Goodneighbor's Statehouse- Current Day..._ **

Given the amount of beer Cait had already imbibed, I was surprised she was able to rescue her most recent bottle from being royally jiggered off the coffee table. She managed to just snag it by the neck, caught between index finger and thumb before it came into contact with the floor. She heaved out a sigh of relief and shot me a reproachful look from the pull-out cot on which she had been lazing.

“Hey Evie, love? Can ya warn me next time before ya start dancin’ around like a mental case?” She grumbled, heaving herself up off of her side and bringing the mouth of the bottle neatly up to her lips for another sip. “Ya got the whole room shakin'. Nearly spilt me fucking drink and all.”

Piper glanced up from the magazine she had been reading and flashed a playful smile in my direction. “Though I’m not so sure I would call that dancing… more like vertical epilepsy.”

I stuck my tongue out at the pair of sassy critics, not pausing a moment in my somewhat less than favourable contribution to the radio’s crooning of ‘Wonderful Guy’. The three of us gals were hanging out in the gang’s designated stay room in the Statehouse’s third floor; the very room in which I had previously caught Piper and Deacon in their somewhat ‘ahem’ _compromising_ position. There was no such evidence remaining of their little liaison however; all the windows had been cranked open to let in some of the mercifully cool breeze from outside and either Piper or Deacon had neatly remade the cot on which they had been doing the ‘rumpy-pumpy’. On which Piper had pointedly perched herself; as though fearing that if Cait were to make herself at home on the sheets, she would somehow surmise what had happened there. Hardly surprise me. Girls got a nose for these sorts of liaisons.

The girls had been helping me get ready for my date with John; which mainly comprised of judging my makeup choices, cracking jokes and keeping my wine glass consistently over the half-empty mark. This eventually resulted in the consequent stilling of my nerves and instead I found myself feeling rather excited and far peppier than my exhausted body had any right to be. When the song ‘Wonderful Guy’ came on the radio, I gave into those exuberant sensations and started dancing along; swaying and spinning about the room with no doubt the biggest, goofiest smile on my face. All that crying earlier felt to have lifted a weight that had been bearing down on me for so long; lightening not only my body but my mood as well.

“Hey, don’t you know that dancing isn’t about skill?” I stated, plucking up my wine glass and sipping from it as I continued swaying my hips from side to side (hopefully) in time to the music. “It’s about… celebrating the most out of a single moment in time.”

Cait smirked at me sceptically. “Uh-huh. Doesn’t look like you’re ‘celebrating’ that moment, so much as trying to force a confession out of it.”

Piper also grinned as she slicked the tip of her index finger and used it to flick over another page of her magazine. “In the old days, they could have reported you to amnesty international.”

I frowned at them as I plonked myself back down in front of the rooms small vanity; tugging in a footstool to perch my butt upon.

“Don’t be haters, ladies. It’s very unattractive.” I pouted, taking what I’m certain, was the fifty-fifth inspection of my appearance. My hair; cleaned and brushed through with perfume, had since been carefully crunched and sprayed so that it maintained a set of carefully controlled waves on the left-hand side. Some bronzer had been applied to the ridges of my cheekbones as a means to further emphasize them and dabs of concealer pattered across my cheeks to dim some of the rosy flair they had acquired. Not to mention the sore, flared bags under my eyes from where I had been crying. I’d managed to carefully blend these out of existence to the best of my ability, as well as covering up what remained of the bruises around my nose and cheeks. I’d applied eyeliner to my lower lids and carefully arched them up to connect with the dark lines of tattoos on my upper lids.

I hadn’t fussed too much with my eyelids; going for the standard smoky look that I had been fond of since my formative years. I had a half-hearted attempt at trimming up my eyebrows with a pair of tweezers and then gave them a little shaping with an eyebrow pencil. I added a few coats of mascara to my eyelashes to give them that little extra pop and then deftly slicked on Hancock’s favourite shade of mulberry coloured lipstick. All the better for kissing you with my dear, mwah-mwah.

I noticed that a lot of the makeup items I was using had a label on the side of them; ‘Peg’s Cosmetics’. A little in-joke that now, knowing what I did, made a great deal of sense and brought a smile of genuine fondness to my face. Cait had already been on to me to do up her face as well and I conceded to some light, natural looking embellishments. She wanted to cover her freckles up, which I thought gave her face such adorable character that it would be a crime to hide it from the world. I did what I could to keep these from being too concealed but gave her eyes a bit of tarting up and applied a cherry red lipstick that suited the cool colour of her skin well. She was well satisfied with the effect and spent so long admiring her reflection in the mirror that it near took picking her up and carrying her back over to the bed so that I could finish my own ablutions.

Piper chuckled from over on her cot; still dressed in the same casual clothes she had been wearing that afternoon and having not done a lick to either her hair or appearance. She promised that she would get to it after seeing me off but I worried she wasn’t leaving herself enough time. Something I always stressed about when it came to preparing for an evening out.

“Seriously though.” She said, glancing up and resting her cheek against her fist with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you so peppy. All… things considered.”

I turned away from the mirror and gave her a gentle, warning look. “Hey, let’s not run that race again. I ain’t gonna let Marowski ruin any more of my day than he already has. Asshole’s done enough.” I puckered my lips, noticing that my lipstick wasn’t quite even and retrieved the tube from the counter of the vanity. I used the tip to accentuate my cupids bow, before reapplying some powder to a shiny looking patch of skin on my chin. I dropped the lipstick tube into my carry bag so that I could touch up during the evening. With all the kissing John and I were likely to do, I’d definitely need to do some touching up (ahem) at some stage. “I mean, I’ve got so much to look forward to. I never thought I’d fall in love again; not after Nate. But now, I have the love of this wonderful man and a no doubt awesome night to look forward to.” I could barely keep the smile from my face as those warm fluffy, new relationship feelings floated up from inside of me again. “If it wasn’t for worrying about Shaun, I’d be on cloud fucking nine right now.”

“Uh-huh.” Piper said, closing her magazine and then leaning closer so as to make a point of twirling her finger in a circle towards me. “You _do_ realize that Hancock probably expects to have sex with you tonight? You know. _Sex_.” She made two little stick person figures out of her hands and emulated them going at each other in a way that probably would have made Hancock blush. “That thing where two people take their clothes off and rub up against each other?”

Cait burst out a snort of laughter as she rolled over to appropriate Piper’s recently neglected magazine. “Jesus love. Been a long time since you’ve been to the plate, ain’t it?” She said, which caused Piper and I to cast uncertain, ironic looks at one another. Not to mention the cot on which she was resting. “And keep in mind that this is probably what Adrian’s got in store for _you_.”

Piper snorted as she snatched back her magazine. “Not on a … ‘sort of’ first date, Cait.” She sniffed, flipping back to the page she had been previously perusing; apparently failing to realize that the magazine was upside down. “Give me _some_ credit. I’m not _you.”_

“That’s for sure.” Cait replied, slugging back on the remaining dregs of her beer. “You probably wouldn’t be so goddamn uptight.”

I held up a hand and waved it leisurely from the wrist. “Before you two start; yes, Piper. I’m well aware that’s where the night’s heading.”

Cait barked triumphantly and reached over to smack her hand to Piper’s shoulder; almost sending the other woman rolling into the wall, such was her enthusiasm. “See? I ain’t the only one who bangs on first dates!”

Piper flashed her a look as she reached up to rub her abused shoulder. “I think you’ll find that’s a little different, Cait. The two of them have…” She waved her hand from side to side; as though she were emulating a balancing set of scales. “Sort of _been_ together for over a year. Or… working up to it anyway.”

“Not that I ever worried about fucking on a first date.” I said, smirking as I tipped my head from side to side to ensure my bronzer was even. Wasn’t half a lie, either. I’d slept with Nate on our first date and a few other fella’s besides. The result of having low self-esteem, I suppose. And a reasonably high sex drive when I was a youngin’.

Piper stared at me admonishingly; as though I hadn’t at all helped her argument with revealing the truth about what a classless trashbag I had been in the past.

“ _Whatever_ the case, I was just… wondering how you were feeling about it all?” Her brow came up in a slight, yet gentle gesture of enquiry. “I mean, are you sure you’re ready?”

I sighed impatiently, setting down the bronzer a little harder on the vanity than was really required. “Look, if this is gonna be about his skin again-”

“No, it’s not that.” Piper stated, waving the magazine from side to side firmly. “It’s more… you know… with everything else considered.” Her shoulder rose and fell slowly; her gaze sliding along to follow the movement of it. “Not to mention… I mean, with your husband and all-”

Trust Piper to have been sensitive to issues such as these. Thoughts that I myself couldn’t deny having. Guilt; where Nate was concerned. Fear; where Marowski was concerned. There was more time to think about it now; more time for it to be less impulsive, for me to be... more accountable.

Hancock and I… this afternoon it had been so spontaneous. And natural. A thing that seemed fated from the very beginning to have transpired. I reminded myself once more of the safety of his touch; the strength of his arms as he held me to him later on; down there on the stairwell. A different creature, in all senses, to that putrescent slug Marowski.

A different man too, whence compared to Nate. I loved Nate, of course. Would always love him. But he wasn’t... _hadn't_ been made of very strong stuff. Not emotionally; not like John was. Nate needed my strength more than I had ever needed his. And in those times, I had been suffering, it was as though he felt… resentful to me for it. As though it were _my_ responsibility to always hold things together. Like the bandages wrapped tight about his body; the ones I had helped him change day after day after day. I held him together the very same way these tight, strips of fabric had done; clamped firm to the edge of each with sharp clips of pins. There was no room for me to come apart; not without those enormous feelings of guilt swarming my heart and mind like a cloud of merciless hornets. Stings as sharp as those of the pins whenever they slipped loose of those bandages and dove into the exposed flesh of my fingers and thumbs.

There were so few people who had been merciful towards me in my life; my mother and my father, mainly. Nick too. Codsworth. Most of my friends I had made here in the new world. But none so much as John Hancock. A gesture I knew, that went far beyond his desire to take me to bed. It was a person to person love; a genuine meeting of complimentary souls. He would be a protector to me in a way that Nate had never managed to achieve; not in all the years we had been together. And I in turn could be stronger for him. I had nothing but patience and love for this man; for what he had suffered, endured and achieved. And he didn’t hate me. Didn’t resent me or hate me for what I had… for what _Marowski_ had done. There was nothing to be found there but love, compassion and admiration. He saw in me a strength I had never before seen in myself. Elucidated it and expressed it, so that I would know, beyond doubt, what my worth was to him. To the world. To others.

It made me… mad for him. Craven for his touch, for the intimacy the two of us could share. I glanced down at my left hand; still struck by the naked band of skin now adorning my ring finger. I had taken it off, of course and stored it away somewhere safe. Hancock’s assurances aside; that he had no qualms with my continuing to wear it, only made me want to express my commitment to him more. My soul and body were entirely my own; for the first time in a long time. I could give them to whoever I wished. And for this night, for the indeterminable future, they belonged to Hancock. I knew they would be safe in his keeping; just as they had been all those months ago, when I'd been so ill and vulnerable.

“Piper,” I said, my painted lips quirking into a smile in response to the warm, yet passionate nature of my thoughts. “It’ll be a _relief_ to be with someone else. You know what it’s like going around knowing that the last person to –” The room was silent as I stood, pushing back once more the memories of that hateful night. I distracted myself by fiddling with the zipper of the shoulder slung carry bag Meaghan had foisted on me in her shop. I think she liked how the rose pattern on the side matched my tattoo. I took a moment to collect myself, before sighing and resisting my usual habit of raking my fingers back through my hair. Wanted to keep it looking as purdy as possible, after all. “Anyway. Believe it or not, I’m looking forward to it. Nothing’s going to be bringing Nate back. I need to… move on. And…” I smiled again, coincided with a helpless shrug. “I love John. And he loves me. I can’t feel bad about going to bed with someone I’m in love with.”

Piper smiled warmly in return, seeming to plainly understand where I was coming from.

“I just…” She cocked her head gently to the side and it was in this very gesture that I could see her genuine affection and love for me. A hell of a thing to derive from someone with whom you had barely known a year. There had been friends I’d known years and years back in the past who I had never developed such deep relationships as I had with these wonderful folks. “I want you to be okay.”

I smiled back, making a pistol finger in her direction and pretending to fire it off. “I’ll be fine.” I said, before then bringing both hands down to plant smartly against my hips; hefting a sigh. “So. How do I look?” I asked, turning in the slowest circle my insecurities would allow. I was very aware of every miniscule patch of skin that was bared on my not at all tiny and svelte body. Honestly, I was starting to have serious doubts that Meaghan had done me any favours with this outfit. I didn't have a third of her confidence; something she seemed to conveniently forget when it suited her.

But Cait seemed to think quite the opposite; flashing a thumbs up and offering a low, appreciative whistle.

“Trouser creaming hot.” She observed, which naturally sent Piper to screwing up her face and reaching over to smack the rolled-up magazine against the top of her head.

“Oh ew, Cait. Gross!” She exclaimed, shaking her head before turning back to me and offering up a supportive smile. She made an OK sign with her fingers. “You look beautiful, Blue.”

“You don’t think it’s too casual?” I asked uncertainly, turning to appraise my attire in the diminutive vanity mirror. Meaghan had outfitted me in a pair of high waisted white short-shorts made from some intricately crocheted material that I couldn’t even begin to imagine how long must have taken her or one of her associates to weave together. They managed to dance that careful line of class and modesty that I was always so keen to observe; showing only the smallest hint of my bottom cheeks and that was only if you were taking a keen enough look. Which I’m sure Hancock would have been. But honestly, I wasn’t predisposed to wearing shorts like this; when the weather had gotten hot in the summer time, it was such a nice and safe way to cool off. I liked the feel of the breeze when it slipped up the legs of the shorts and they were a much safer choice than a mini-skirt, such as Cait was wearing. And whilst I was here in Goodneighbor with Hancock at my side, I felt quite safe in flaunting such an outfit. That dickhead Marowski, aside.

Meaghan had paired this with a blue thin strap flowy top that capped just an inch or two above where the shorts ended. It showed just a hint of my midsection; an area that I was contented with, given that it wasn’t my dimply belly region but the rather more firm section just above this. To cap off the look, I was wearing a set of white, beachy looking wedge cork sandal’s; each about three to four inches in the back. Higher than anything I’d worn in… well, since going undercover at the _Cavellian Club_. I wasn’t certain how my poor ankles were going to handle them the entire night; never mind my narrow little feet. Probably end up with both John and I having fucked up legs and wouldn’t _that_ make for a sexy evening?

Still, at least they made my legs look longer. Something I was always lamenting, given how envious I was of some of these other gals who had pins up to their face. (Yes, I'm talking about _you,_ Curie). I didn’t look quite so stubby with a set of wedges on and my legs were tanned and in good shape; so, I don’t think I looked half bad. Going on thirty, or not.

Piper sat up and immediately waved her hand, assuaging. “No! No, it’s not too casual! You look great! It’s like… cute, sexy.”

“Plus, did you _see_ how short those shorts are in the back?” Cait crowed with a knowing wink. “You bend over with Hancock in eye shot and he’s gonna shoot his stale old load.”

“Once more, _not_ an image that I was in need of, Cait.” Piper groaned, rubbing the bridge of her nose as I sighed and slunk back to the mirror; tugging at the back of my shorts as I went. I gave my hair another careful scrunch on the long side and then used my fingers to spike up the shorter tresses on the right. Wasn’t nothing compared to how I used to be able to do my locks up but as I knew full well… long hair was just too risky in this world.

“Jesus… wish there was more I could do with this mop.” I grumbled, before shrugging and turning away from the mirror. “… Oh well.” I picked up my wine and slurped from it. Leaned over as casually as possible to check on the Pip-Boy, which I’d left perched on the wall mantle nearby. Naturally, Piper noticed and grinned at my not so carefully disguised feelings of anxiety.

“Relax. He’s only a minute or so late.”

Cait chuckled as she reappropriated Piper’s magazine and tipped back on the bed; giving me a not altogether appreciated view of her slinky lace panties as her skirt rode up her thighs. “Ya really think after all this time he’s _not_ gonna turn up? Knowin’ he’s gonna get laid tonight?”

I sighed irritably to myself as I bounced on the cork wedges of my new shoes. “No… I just… hate waiting around for stuff. I mean, I don’t _hate_ it. You just get… all this, ya know, nervous energy on first dates.” I felt my eyes widen in acknowledgement of my statement; the realization of just what it meant. “Oh my god, _first dates_. I haven’t been on a first date in… God, years. I forgot how exciting it was.”

“Speaking of exciting, how’s that thong of yours going?” Cait asked from somewhere behind the crooked curves of her knees. Though I knew she wasn’t able to see my expression, I nonetheless flashed her a haughty look.

“It’s not a _thong_ , it’s a _tanga_ cut. And it’s long since been devoured by my ass, thank you for asking.” I examined my hair once more as the pair devolved into laughter. I added, in an offhand mutter: “John’ll need a whole jar of Vaseline and a pair of industrial strength plyers to pry the bloody things out now…”

As their laughter gradually died down, Cait interred, with a knowing wink; “Well, probably doesn’t help that you don’t have a pube left for them to grip onto.”

I looked to her reproachfully; feeling all too much like the mother I had never really wanted to be in the first place. “Oh, Caitlin. Behave yourself.” I scolded, picking up one of the lovely plump pillows from the end of the bed and tossing it lightly in her direction. Her flailing legs kicked it almost directly up into the air so that it landed ungainly upon her face. “Besides, Meaghan didn’t take _everything_ off. I’m not down with that look.” I added, tipping my nose back conceitedly into the air.

Piper turned to Cait, giving her a meaningful look as she brushed strands of shiny, plump looking black hair from her face. “Eve opted out because that last little strip in the middle hurts too much.”

“Does it ever!” I exclaimed, with wide eyed agreement; remembering all too well the pain I’d gone through having a full Brazilian just before my wedding. I’d needed two painkillers just to get through the appointment without screaming the beautician’s down. “And no, that’s _not_ the reason I opted out. I just think that a woman should, you know, keep a little hair and look like a grown up.” I sipped from my wine again; pulling a face at the memory of how my vagina had looked without a shred of hair on it entirely. For some reason, it just… seemed perverse to me. Like I’d been rendered down to nothing more substantial than a plain, featureless doll. Or, god forbid, a pre-pubescent girl. “Creeps me out to have the whole lot taken off. Start lookin’ like a pornographic doll.”

“So, what have ya got? Like a little mohawk up the middle?” Cait queried, swinging back up into a sitting position (mercifully) and bringing her legs together so that she could indicate a line down the center seam of her denim skirt. She suddenly gasped and then leaned closer towards me, eyes wide in excited curiosity. “Oh! You didn’t only go and get _Fahrenheit’s_ hairstyle on your twat? Fuck; _that’d_ be a right damn put off, wouldn’t it?”

I gave her a very stern look before replying, never much in for bullying regardless of who the poor behaviour was being directed at. Pulling myself into agreement with another person’s derision of an unknowing, unaware party just never sat right with me. Not morally. My father said it never gave a person a fighting chance to defend themselves.

“No.” I replied to Cait; the tone of my voice making it very clear, I should hope, that I didn’t think much of her earlier query. “It’s called a ‘landing strip’.”

She burst out laughing and rolled sideways onto the bed; still a firm hold on the pillow that I had earlier pegged in her direction. “Well _that’s_ appropriate! Not that Hancock’ll need any help knowing where to land the thing.”

I couldn’t help but smirk at little at this one. “Well, you’re in fine form tonight, aren’t you?” I checked the Pip-Boy again; sipped from my wine and glanced out the window. It was dark out now but the weather was still warm and muggy; especially up here in the attic where the heat seemed to gather. I could already feel sweat forming under my arms. “And really, don’t be so rude about poor Fahrenheit.”

Piper proffered up what sounded like an unforgiving snort from over by her magazine. “Poor Fahrenheit nothing. I’ll give Hancock one thing; he was right about what he said.” Her eyes blazed fiercely over the page that she was currently perusing. “She had no right to ask you to do what you did.”

“It’s not about right or wrong, Piper. She was scared shitless.” I established, returning to my carry bag and fetching about inside until I found the spray can of deodorant I’d stored inside. I gave it a shake and distributed two firm blasts under each smoothly groomed armpit; careful to avoid leaving white powder on Meaghan’s beautiful blue top. “And what was I to her? She loves John and she loves this town. All she wants is to protect it. Everything else is secondary. And to me, that makes perfect sense.”

Cait sat up perfectly straight on the bed; like a nervous Meerkat surveying the plains for an approaching predator, with eyes as bright and shiny as the very creature from which it might very well have been hiding.

“Wait…” She drawled, looking far too pleased with herself as she retrieved her beer bottle and took another quick swig from it. “You don’t think she’s actually hot for Hancock, do ya?”

Piper rolled her eyes impatiently, using a pen she had plucked from somewhere to scratch out some words on a crossword she appeared to be working on in concluding pages of the magazine. “Oh please, Cait. She’s gay. How could she possibly want to be with Hancock?”

Now it was Cait’s turn to act superior. “Being ‘gay’ isn’t always so black and white, love.” She shrugged casually as she drained the last remaining dregs from her beer. “I thought I was gay for a while; all the shit I’d been through with blokes.”

I nodded my agreement of her statement as I stowed my deodorant away and took out the small, precious bottle of oriental perfume that I had purchased from Daisy… Jesus, seemed like a hundred years ago now. I’d had very little reason to use it; aside from our infiltration of the _Cavellian Club_ of course but I’d spritzed it on the once or twice the group of us had cause for a nice-ish dinner at a ‘not-so’ shabby establishment. I remember that Hancock had remarked on it; stated that he loved the smell of perfumes, aftershaves, that sort of thing. He really had a, no pun intended, ‘nose’ for smells. I made a point of spraying two small spritzes onto my neck, before then carefully dabbing some on my wrists and then to the backs of my knees. I had placed a little on my hairbrush earlier, so that I could comb a hint of it through my hair before styling it. Hopefully it would be subtle and seductive, rather than overwhelming. I smiled, knowing that Hancock would most likely be wearing that lovely aftershave I was so very fond of. I felt another little trill up through my chest and couldn’t help but glance once more at the Pip-Boy. Come on, honey. Time’s a wasting.

“Well, it’s nice to see you got right back on that horse with such determination, darling.” I said, using the time fruitfully to tease Cait as much as possible. She returned my smile, knowing full well that she was more than just a little keen on the more brutish sex and not at all ashamed to admit it. She lounged back on the bed, swaying the now empty amber bottle between her fingers like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.

“What can I say? I like the cock.” She said, unapologetic as her eyes trailed over towards the window; from which myriad noises of excitement and bustle emanated from down below. “Maybe Fahrenheit’s the same. Stuck with the pussy long enough and boomerangin' back to the wang.”

I wrinkled my nose at this conjecture; unconvinced. “I… don’t think she’s particularly... _wang_  inclined.” I said, thinking back to some of the things Hancock had told me about her experiences with men. If I’d been through half the shit she had been, I wouldn’t want to go near a male with a ten-foot pole. But then… I’d been through trauma myself and it still didn’t change how I felt about John. I nodded my head to the side, conceding. “Though… it wouldn’t surprise me if she made an exception for John. The way she speaks about him just… makes me think sometimes-”

This train of thought was abruptly severed by a loud, confident and undeniably identifiable knock on the door. It came so abruptly that I don’t think a single one of us was able to maintain our cool and all let out a collective, near unified shriek of excitement.

“Oh my god, oh my god! It’s him!” I trilled and then paused, frowned and thought good and hard about what the hell I was doing. “For fucks sake, what am I? _Fourteen?_  It’s _John,_ for crying out loud.” I scolded, rolling my eyes as I made my way over to answer the door. Despite my self-reproach, I could still feel my heart thumping as I advanced. I gulped again from my quickly dwindling glass, but it didn’t do much more than just sink down heavy into the depths of my stomach. Too little, too late.

Cait wasn’t keen to ease up on the Teasing Evie throttle either. “Yeah, but it’s John the _lover_ now.” She crooned, crooking her chin up on her hands and wriggling her bare feet two and fro on the bed behind her. Like a complicit school girl; watching her best buddy embarking into the night with the big old football stud everyone was after. “Not just Hancock the horny, super repressed Mayor.”

“Behave.” I scolded, smiling back at her before, with a deep breath, taking firm hold of the door handle and swinging it open. John was waiting there for course; looking par for the course, much the same as usual. Though I was relieved to see that he was freshly cleaned up, smelling tantalizing of that delicious cologne and outfitted in what appeared to be a clean shirt and trousers. He had foregone his usual red wool coat (no doubt given how warm the night still was) but wore his waistcoat tapered nicely down over the crisp white shirt he had tucked beneath. The blue of the coat looked more vibrant than ever, so I suspected Meaghan must have taken it in hand at some point and repaired and dyed it.

He had a cooler resting on the floor beside his feet and in his arms, a gathering of glowing, vibrant blue flowers, which had been tied about the stems with a matching bow. I felt nostalgic at the very sight of them and in spite of my earlier humorous suspicions, that I would lose my shit if Hancock tried any of the traditional stuff, I immediately went to water to see that he had presented me with a gesture so lovingly thoughtful and romantic. My free hand went directly to my chest; coveting my still thumping, quivering heart and my knees weakened.

“Oh my God, you bought me _flowers!_ ” I all but blubbered, embarrassed to find that my eyes were tearing up. It had been so long since I had been given flowers and I must admit, I hadn’t expected such an affectionate gesture from someone like Hancock. _“Thank you!_ ”

“You’re a poof, Hancock.” Cait typically called out from somewhere behind me on the bed. Hancock, naturally, took this in his stride with barely a flinch of recognition marring his perfectly contented expression.

“Don’t cry just because I didn’t bring _you_ any, Cait.” He rebuked, easing the flowers forward tenderly; silently encouraging me to take them from his arms.

“Play nice, you two.” I gently warned, accepting the bouquet from Hancock and leaning my nose in to take a deep whiff of the iridescent flowers. A sensory memory immediately jumped to the forefront of my mind and I gazed up at him enquiringly. “Are these the ones that-?”

“Yeah, the ones you were picking the night that Stingwing jabbed you in the ass.” Hancock said, nodding and sighing as he lifted the line of his gaze towards the ceiling in an overly dramatic, romantic gesture. “Good times, good times.” I watched as his eyes swung down quickly, appraising my attire; in particular, the pair of shorts that I was nearly almost wearing. The curl of his smile told me that he very much liked what he was seeing. “But you know, given what you’re wearing, I think I might even be able to see the scar if you just turn around and bend over a little… You know. For old times’ sake, and all.”

I smacked my hand lightly to his chin; just as I had always done when he misbehaved. “I’ll bend over as much as you like in private, not a minute sooner.” I said softly, smiling as I leaned up to kiss him gently on the lips. He returned that soft, tender pressure; his fingers lightly tracing the line of my jaw before brushing over the trailing strands of my hair. I loved how he sometimes seemed to just want to trace the lines of my body; as though pressing too hard would force the shape from my figure.

He returned my smile; his eyes half lidded and brimming with warmth as his gaze traced my visage from my shoes to the highest peak of my hair.

“You look beautiful.” He whispered, not moving from the door but continuing to appraise me with such appreciation that it started to make me feel a little self-conscious. I chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear demurely before I was able to stop myself. Shit; I’d probably just ruined the whole look.

“Thanks. You look-”

He laughed self-deprecatingly. “Pretty much the same as usual. Yeah, I know.” He reached out, taking one of the flowers and capping it at the stem. He slid it cautiously into the carefully scrunched waves of my hair, just above my ear. “There.” He murmured, looking well pleased with himself. “Crowning touch.”

I smiled as I turned and glanced in the mirror; liking how the pretty blue flower set off the entire outfit. Sort of made me look a little more feminine too; which could only be a good thing. I turned back to Hancock and gently put my lips to his cheek.

“Thankyou, darling.” I whispered into his ear, before then turning and trotting back into the room. “I might just leave these here with the girls, if that’s okay. One of them might be kind enough to put them in some water for me.” I added suggestively, not missing the completely mischievous expression that flashed across Cait’s made up face as I ambled past her.

“Soon as you leave, I’m gonna throw the girly things right out the fucking window.” She said, grinning at the bouquet as I set it down tenderly on top of one of the chest of drawers nearby. Hancock, looking entirely unthreatened, rolled his shoulders in the doorway.

“Fine. Hope you enjoy being cut off from every alcohol dispensary service in the town for the rest of your stay, sweet cheeks.” He said, winking back as Cait’s mouth dropped open to form a purely scandalized expression. Piper of all people chose to step in at this juncture, her brows quirking down as she foisted a hand high into the air.

“I’ll take care of them for ya, Blue.” She said, flashing me a reassuring smile as Cait went back to sort of mock-scowling behind her pillow. “I’ll even go one further and pop them in Hancock’s room for ya, for… when you get back.”

“Fuck that.” Cait said with a laugh, emulating a gesture all too much like someone throwing rice at a wedding. “Just pull the heads off ‘em and scatter ‘em all over the doona.”

I mused on the very notion of this before turning to Hancock with a no doubt inquisitive expression. “Hey… do you think the petals still keep some of their glow when they’ve been plucked from the stem? Cause that would be _weird_ to see if they got stuck to you.” I gasped, feeling my eyes crank open even wider than they naturally were. “Imagine walking through the Statehouse in the raw, just covered with these little glowing petals! That would look _awesome!_ Like… sexy, glowing night lights!”

Hancock naturally looked amused by my enthusiasm. “Hey, I’m game if you are.”

Piper, on the other hand, didn’t look nearly as intrigued by the thought. “Could we please have some warning in advance if the two of you are planning to march around in the altogether?” She asked, her face scrunching up as though something foul smelling had just wafted in through the open gap in the window and had the poor manners to infiltrate her nose. “You know, give the rest of us a chance to down our blood pressure tablets first?”

“Consider _this_ your notice, darlin’.” Hancock said with a wink and a little snap of his fingers in her direction. Piper groaned, sinking back onto the bed and covering her face with her magazine.

“Oh great. Now I’m gonna be scared to come back to the room tonight.”

Cait laughed as she reached over to tug the magazine away from Piper’s face and use it to fan herself with.

“Not to worry. You can just sleep over with _Adrian_ …”

Piper retaliated by battering her with the remaining pillow on her bed. The very same perhaps, that I knew fully well had been positioned under her lower back when she and Deacon had been… stop it. Seriously. Those sorts of thoughts were _not_ helping.

“Would you just… _stop_ with that nonsense and go and find some guy to fuck already?!” Piper exclaimed, looking all the more irritated by the fact that Cait was just laughing and having her usual grand old time at Piper’s expense. “Give yourself something to do other than sit here and pick on me?”

“Piper, we talked about this.” I said, slightly scolding and slightly teasing as I double checked over the supplies in my side bag. A few make up items, caps, cigarettes, perfume, lighter, spare pair of knickers, my Magnum .44, box of additional ammo… standard post-apocalyptic gal’s purse. “She’s waiting on _Travis_ , remember.”

Cait immediately jerked up defensively. “I’m not waiting on _anyone!_ ” She snapped, before then returning grumpily to the magazine with a prominent pout on her features. “All I said was if he turned up I’d give him a good ballin’. Doesn’t mean I won’t do a little window shopping in the meantime.”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say that Pattie-boy is always down for a good time.” Hancock remarked, crossing his arms as he leaned his shoulder up against the door. I could see the flicker of his nearly invisible irises as they trailed up and down the length of my legs, and I couldn’t say I minded the attention in the least. “You might try hitting him up.”

Cait groaned in exasperation, irritated no doubt by Hancock’s lack of knowledge. “I _did. Last_ time I was in town. _Duh._ ” (To which Hancock exaggerated a look of complete mental impairment and repeated the ‘Duh’ in equal mockery.) “I’m not really into the whole encore thing, you know? I like to vary what I put on my plate.”

“It’s so refreshing to have a female chauvinist in our midst.” I remarked, smiling knowingly and most genuinely at that as I crossed the room to join Hancock in the doorway once more. I took note of the angle of his head; focused downward so that his eyes could caress my feet, shins and then thighs. He took his lazy, languid time bringing them back into alignment with my own and didn’t appear the least concerned with being caught checking me out. I tilted my head at him; pleased and yet pretending to scold all the same. “What? See something you like?”

He smiled mischievously but I could see the heat in his expression that was quite separate from his usual designs to play it ‘cool’ with me. “I see several ‘something’s’ I like.” He all but purred and then reached for me; hands swooping down to wrap about the backs of my (thankfully) now smooth thighs before tugging me up tight against him. He grabbed my ass and lifted me off of my feet, prompting me to pin my knees to the slim curve of his waist. I draped my arms about his shoulders, keeping my wine glass firmly clenched in one hand and murmured softly as I felt his fingers slide boldly up each crocheted leg of my shorts; squeezing and stroking the indentation where my ass met my thighs. Then further still, as far in as he could go at this angle; stroking and groaning softly as he trailed his face and cheeks across what part of my breasts I had allowed to be bared. I felt the heat of his breath against my skin and the soft, tepid wetness of his lips as they gently parted.

“Oh _man._ ” He moaned, tugging me to him tighter so I was jostled further up his body; the crown of my head near smacking the arch of the doorway. His lips pressed a kiss to the side of my left breast. “Come to fucking _daddy_ …”

I pulled a face as I stared down at him unappreciatively. “Yeah… um, hon? When you’re almost two decades older than your girlfriend, referring to yourself as ‘daddy’, doesn’t come off as sexy so much as… predatory. Be like me sayin’ ‘Come to Mommy’, or some shit.”

Hancock smirked up at me and ducked one of his eyes in an expectantly perverted wink. “Mmm. I kinda like the sound of that…”

I laughed, smacking the wall of his back with my spare hand; careful not to spill my wine as I did. “Course you do. Perve.”

Hancock for the most part ignored my reprimand; his eyes glazing across my face, neck and naturally taking their sweet time lingering across my chest. He staggered a slow breath in, closed his eyes for a moment before moving in again and gently pressing his face down into the crease of my cleavage. Jesus. He had no interest in trying to hold back now, did he? Was it because he was seeing me dressed up like this for the first time? … No, no of course not. I’d been done up to the nines when we’d infiltrated the _Cavellian Club_ ; likely even more so. I’d been wearing a little black dress, for fucks sake and that thing had hugged my curves like a sharp car.

But of course, we hadn’t been together then. He had… consent now. To touch, to indulge himself. And it seemed he was making the most of doing this very damn thing.

“God,” He groaned, his palms clenching tight to my ass and squeezing. I felt the flutter of his eyelids against the inside curves of my breasts; somehow the more intimate for the fact that he didn’t have eyelashes. Because it meant he was as close as he truly desired to be. “You got no idea how _bad_ I just wanna… _throw_ ya down right here on the floor and fuck the living daylights out of ya.”

I staggered a gasp that threatened to escape as his teeth pinched tight about the aligned straps of my top and bra; tugging them off to the side a little so that it cleared a line from my shoulder down to my breast. I knew full well why he had done this; it emphasized the swelling of my boob, pushed up somewhat from the perfectly fitted bra Meaghan had foisted upon me a little over an hour earlier.

He nuzzled to the billow of flesh; kissed and then lightly dug his teeth in. My cheeks flared with heat and I leaned in, more to reach for my wine glass over his head and take a big heady sip. _Uff da…_ I was in _so_ much trouble… We hadn’t even gotten out of the room yet and he was already all over me! Worse still; I wasn’t at all opposed to his behavior. The classy woman in me wanted to grab him by the scruff of his neck and pull him into line but the more fervent, horny and repressed part wanted to simply let him follow through with what he had earlier suggested. Bung hip or not, I had little doubt he’d be able to pull it off; enthusiasm being ruler of all, of course.

Fortunately, there was still common sense to be found in that hot and heady room at that time and it came in the form of Piper Wright; who, though unable to see anything because of the door providing some coverage, was still able to hear our hushed conversation and cleared her throat pointedly as a reminder of both hers and Cait’s presence.

“Um, yoo-hoo? Hello? It’s _us_. You know; the people who are still in the room?”

Hancock groaned irritably; loosing one hand from my bottom to fetch back into his trouser pocket. He rustled about urgently; attempting to extract something. “Give ya five hundred caps to beat it and go grab a drink for five hours.”

Cait immediately slapped down the magazine. “Fucking _done.”_ She said, both she and Piper being halfway off the bed before I managed to extricate myself from about John and wave them back to their original positions.

“Stop. We are _not_ staying here in this hot, stinky ass room for five hours.” I grumbled, thinking all the while that it was rather hypocritical of me to worry about being hot and sweaty when Hancock and I’d had such a sexy time of it before in his sitting room. I adjusted my top, trying desperately to distract myself from those tempting memories and felt safe enough then to chance a happy little dance on the spot; swaying my arms to the side to point out towards the window. “We’re going out to engage and frolic in the great nocturnal nightlife of Goodneighbor! To see new sights and meet new people!”

“Ye~ees.” Hancock added in a commiserating tone, and then added, most underhandedly: “ _For as little of the evening as possible, god willing._ ”

I spun about to lay a smack to the side of his arm. “Stop being so horny. We’ll get there when we get there. And don’t forget,” I added, jabbing a very serious finger directly towards what I had one been told had once been a very fine nose. “You _promised_ to show me some ducklings!”

Piper sat up as though something had reached up through the cots thin mattress to pinch her on the backside.

“What? There are ducklings in town?”

“Cool!” Cait added, chiming in I think, only out of interest of tormenting Hancock further. Because I can’t imagine that the hard hitting, cock loving, drink slurping Cait was the least bit interested in small fluffy animals. She barely bothered with tossing a kind word to Dogmeat on a good day. “I totally wanna check that shit out! Can we come?”

Hancock made his point patently clear by slamming his hands to his hips so hard and fast it wouldn’t have surprised me if the act hadn’t dislocated his dodgy limb again.

“No. Go look at the fucking ducklings in your own time.” He relieved one hand of duty long enough to reach over and lightly cuff to the scar in my chin. “Tonight, those fluffy quackers are the exclusive viewing property of one Evelyn ‘Munch’ Hallows.”

I chuckled a little; making a point of poking what was already far too expansive a chest out and preening like a pampered pet.

“Ooh, I could get used to _this_ sort of treatment.” I winked and made pistol fingers towards the other two girls as I perched jauntily on one high heeled foot. “Watch; I’ll be perched up in the VIP room of the Third Rail before you can _blink.”_

Hancock tilted back his head to laugh. “ _MacCready_ was allowed to hang out in the VIP room. _You’ll_ get the extra special VIP treatment.”

“What’s that?”

“Still the VIP room.” Hancock said, with a sneaky smile and an offhand shrug. “Only I turn on the red string lights and get Chuck to put a paper umbrella in whatever you’re drinking.”

I laughed as I sauntered back over to the cooler; doing my utmost to swing my hips to and fro in what I remember used to be a sexy gesture back in my teen years. I was probably too big and old to pull it off now but it never hurt to give it a crack, did it?

“So, what have you got planned for tonight?” I asked, pausing to tip my head back and scull the last of my wine in what I gather must have been a most ladylike fashion. I could tell because of the way the other’s looked at me; their eyes awning slightly before, as usual, they shrugged it off as standard ‘old Eve the soak’ behaviour.

Hancock clapped his hands together; a shifty look in his eyes that said quite plainly that he had no intention of answering me honestly anytime soon. At least, not without a heavy coating of teasing thrown in for good measure.

“Well.” He established, in a tone already far too dramatic for my tastes. “For your pleasure, I have scheduled a florid assortment of various, interior based, mattress affiliated acrobatic feats of such marvel and splendour, that you will forever remain the envy of all your friends and family.”

Piper pulled a face at this; looking completely and utterly bewildered as she fished a near forgotten beer bottle from somewhere underneath the cot and held it poised in her hand before taking a sip.

“The fuck…? _I_ won’t be envious.”

Cait shrugged, her eyes straying to the side in a clear gesture of accommodation. “I’m a little envious. That sounds like one carnival I _wouldn’t_ mind fronting up to.”

I tilted my head at Hancock; smiling in what I’m certain was a very practiced and patient expression. “Right. Well, I hope that _prior_ to the indoor circus show, we’re gonna check out some of those stalls.” I waved a finger at him as I deposited my now entirely empty wine glass on the credenza; trying not to feel guilty about whichever poor schlep was likely to have to clean it up later. “I don’t know about you, my darling, but on my way back from Meaghan’s I saw some _delish_ looking grub that was just _begging_ to be sampled. Food on a stick is an invention that just _never_ goes out of fashion!”

“Jesus Evie, you and your food.” Cait teased, rolling her eyes as she twirled a finger meaningfully in my direction. “Be careful or you’ll bust right on outta those shorts…”

“Yes. And what a tragedy _that_ would be.” Hancock drawled sarcastically, which naturally got him a hard punch in the arm from me. Expected of course, though I hadn’t the least bit been offended by his comment. The fact that anyone wanted to get a look at my big fat ass these days was compliment enough.

“Hey, how about directing some of that horny energy into picking up this cooler for me?”

Hancock mused, feigning uncertainty as he gazed down at the large cooler in which I had stored all our nibblies for the evening. He staggered it out; shifting his weight from hip to hip and pressing a finger daintily to his lip; like an artist, surveying a canvas that he just could not figure out the irregularity with.

“Eh… I don’t know.” He finally concluded, grunting as he placed both hands to his waist and whipped his hip out to the side dramatically. “My hip’s pretty bad at the moment…” He snapped his fingers as though alighting upon a tremendous Newton-esque discovery. “Maybe _you_ oughta bend down and pick it up. Give those big guns of yours something to work on. I’ll keep an eye out for bad guys.”

I laughed as I used those aforementioned ‘big guns’ to deliver yet another punch into his well-worn side. “I know _exactly_ what you’ll be keeping an eye out for, buddy! And it sure as hell ain’t ‘bad guys!’ How’s about you be a gentleman and just pretend like you don’t know I wouldn’t struggle with carrying the damn thing myself, perve?”

Hancock hefted a maidenly sigh; rolling one shoulder as he sauntered over towards the cooler. “Fine.” He drawled, making a big show of rolling up his sleeves and cracking the joints of his fingers by stretching them out in front of himself. “You could have just come on out and said you wanted to look at my ass but… _we’ll play it your way._ ”

He then made a big show of whistling as he bent over at the waist, swishing his ass back and forth in a way I’m sure was supposed to be alluring. Sadly, because he had such a nice, tight little bottom he managed to succeed in snagging my attention more than I wished to admit. Before I had a chance to do anything in response to this however, Cait beat me to it by swinging about on the bed and lashing her arm so as to lay her hand firmly to the left cheek of John’s butt. His swishing ceased immediately, though he didn’t sound at all shocked when next he spoke.

“Cait,” He said, having not even turned from the cooler as he wrapped his fingers about the side grips. “Hard as this may be to hear; I’m a taken man now. Ya had your chance, now; keep your hands off the merchandise.”

Cait whistled in astonishment as she sank back into her cot; crossing one bare foot casually over her knee.

“That’s amazing. He didn’t even see me do it but he somehow figured out who it was.”

I laughed as I reached down to gently trail my hand over Hancock’s ass in turn; giving it a gentle pat. “It’s a gift. Sort of like he receives a psychic flash from a direct touch to the posterior.”

Piper quirked a brow, sceptically. “That’s a very specific, and kind of useless, super power.”

“Honed through many years of having my ass groped from any number of directions at any time.” Hancock stated, proffering up a world-weary sigh as he lifted the cooler in both hands and held it tight to his midsection. I reached up to stroke my hand down either side of his chin.

“The perils of performing for Bachelorettes, my lover.” I said, remembering the stories he had told me about when he’d been a Smoothskin and doing various jobs for caps. One of which was pretty much stripping and lap dancing for randy women; a skill that he had apparently been quite proficient in. Little surprise, considering that I myself had been the recipient of a lap dance from him in my time but that is a story for another occasion.

“You ain’t kiddin’.” Hancock agreed, eyes widening slightly at the still intrusive memories of all the estrogen charged wild women he’d had to fend off in his younger years. Poor, poor baby. “Scary stuff. Shall we get shakin’?”

“Like bacon.” I said, adjusting my bag across my shoulder before turning back to Piper and Cait. “We’ll probably see you guys later at Addy’s for a drink, yeah?”

“Sure.” Piper said, with a smile and a carefree wave of her hand. “But seriously, don’t stress if you don’t make it.”

“Yeah.” Cait added, throwing a loaded wink, chock full of intention, in my direction. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of your own shit to be getting on with.”

“Yup.” Hancock agreed, not bothering the least with discretion. Guess he wasn’t so concerned now most everything was out in the open. “And I’d like to be getting on with it in the next _year,_ god forbid.” Since his hands were occupied, he tilted his head in favour of the otherwise customary doff of his hat he would otherwise offer. “So, I’ll say goodnight ladies and hope you enjoy your evening.”

Piper made a dull little salute from the ridge of her brow. “Well, I’d wish you the same but it hardly seems necessary.”

“Wink.” Hancock intoned, chuckling as I pulled the door shut behind the two of us. I clopped my way over to the small cooler Hancock had left behind, raising the left side of my lip into a coy, suggestive smile.

"I’ll take the widdle baby cooler.”

Hancock snorted, smiling to show that he really wasn’t cross with me. “How charitable of you.”

“Oh, I’m just a beacon of generosity.” I teased, imitating the very show he had made earlier by bending overzealously at the waist to retrieve the small drinks cooler; keeping my legs very straight and my knees tucked in. I was well aware of what the view must have been doing for him because he let out a soft little groan as I gave my bottom a swish from side to side. I never quite felt as sexy as Hancock did; Ghoulification aside, but it was plain to me now that he did indeed take pleasure from my appearance. And, in particular, the shortest article of clothing I had ever in fact worn in his presence. Well... bikini aside, of course.

“Holy shit.” He murmured, chuckling a little and shaking his head as I straightened up and turned to face him; the cooler dangling easily from my right hand. I watched his lip unfurl from where he had previously had it pinned between his teeth. “Meaghan’s just gone and gotten herself another two months’ rent free for this ensemble. _Damn._ ”

I smirked as I turned in a much slower circle than I had for the girls earlier; allowing for Hancock’s inspection, every near angle the lovely collective permitted of my body. “I actually thought about wearing a dress but Meaghan insisted that it was high time I ‘show off that booty’.” I said, rounding off this statement with a firm smack of the hand to the right cheek of my ass. Judging by the low whistle Hancock offered off to the side, I gathered that he liked it very much when I paid tribute to my own body. Hot damn… this could lead to some _very_ sexy stuff later.

“Well, she’s not wrong.” He finally stated, turning to glance into my eyes and smiling with a soft sort of warmth I knew meant that his fire had ebbed to sweltering coals for the time being. He placed the cooler down onto the ground, taking the handle and spinning it so that it balanced on the small wheels that rested on its side. Always present and always available for him to make use of, but little fun in the flirting it had afforded us earlier. His hand free, he now offered it to me and I reached out, linking my fingers through his. Because it was my right hand, he didn’t notice that I had taken off my wedding ring. I wondered how long it would take before he realized I had. We made our way towards the stairs. “Jesus… I mean, I always knew you’d like fine in short-shorts but my imagination _really_ doesn’t do the piece justice.”

I chuckled modestly, resisting my usual temptation to reach up and tuck my hair behind my ear. “Thanks. I was actually feeling a little self-conscious.” Fought more the temptation to reach back and tuck my shorts down further over my ass. “Thought it seemed a bit young for me.”

Hancock looked down at me; his expression conveying shock as the cooler bounced nimbly along the steps behind us. “You kidding? You’re only twenty-nine, Munch. That’s hardly in the realm of a saggy skinned, dribbling geriatric. Be a crime to keep an ass like that covered up all the time.” His eyes trailed down further, surveying the length of my not so long legs. “So… how long exactly did it take for you to shave those pins?”

I wondered just how many bruises would adorn his arm by the time this night was done with. Not that I think he minded in the least getting a smack or two from me. I rather think he enjoyed it, actually.

“Just a minute or two, _thank you_ very much. You might recall that I’m a bit more regular with the upkeep when the weather’s warm.”

Hancock laughed and leaned in; his breath warm and tingly on my ear as our feet somehow managed to traverse the steps without tripping either of us up. “Aww and here I was looking forward to running my fingers through all that bristle.”

I laughed as I raised my arm; still with a firm hold of his hand to point my armpit in his direction. “Well that’s all right. I let my armpit hair grow out. Just for you.” There was, of course, not a hair to be found on my armpit but I continued to play up our game of endlessly tormenting the shit out of one another all the same. “Feel free to comb through that later if you like.”

“ _Yes._ ” Hancock hissed, faking excitement by jerking back on the arm that held the cooler as much as its weight could possibly permit. “Promise you didn’t put any deodorant on?”

I launched my nose upward. “Not only that; didn’t even scrub them with soap. Stinks like a Yao Guai’s foreskin.”

This, of all things, caused Hancock to snort and look away, releasing my hand to wave his own at me in a recognizable sign of surrender.

“Nope. That’s the line. Jesus Christ, Munch. Eyuck!”

I chuckled as I lifted my arm up high, positioning my hand as far into the crease of my back so as to fully reveal the smooth pit beneath my arm. Of which, of course, I was very proud. Too many days had there been where it had been adorned with spikes so bristly, it would have made an old age porcupine jealous.

“I’m kiddin’. See, all gone?” I said, gesturing towards my hopefully slightly more alluring under arm area with my nose and quirking my lips up into a comforting smile. “I’m all smooth and slippery dippery.”

Having appraised my armpit and finding it to his liking, Hancock returned my smile and then lowered his voice as his lips dipped in correspondence to rest upon my ear. He whispered: “That go for everywhere?”

Instead of succumbing to girlish embarrassment and chortling like some virginish waif, I chuckled instead, lowering my voice in timber as well and wrapping my free arm about his shoulder so as to pull him close and bring our lips into near alignment. I spoke between them; those two thin, line wreathed columns that I had only, barely hours ago, just kissed for the very first time. But lips I still felt that I knew so well.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” I said, practicing what I hoped passed for a purr, as I teasingly surpassed his lips and pressed my kiss to his cheek instead. He held me to him briefly; that lovely, sweet and darling gesture between desperate arousal and equally despairing love. The want to have and obtain both was as powerful as the next…

We surrendered to it for some moments; just standing there on the stairwell, the coolers as precariously balanced as our desires. I felt in each of his tight, taut muscles the desire to dispense with all the pretence, demand everyone from the Statehouse and to have me right then and there on the stairwell. A sexy notion but… fuck. _Ouch._ No good on either my back, _his_ back, either of our hips… Only teenagers could fuck on stairwells. The idea of just giving in to temptation and going for it was all well and good but I’d rather do it somewhere soft and lovely and supportive. Preferably with a pillow under my head and butt, permitting. Not just for deeper penetration but because it really helped with that sciatic nerve pain…. Jesus, now I just felt old and sad. Here we were; so desperately in _want_ of one another and I was debating the statistics of that _want._ Like a little old lady!

But fuck it; what did I care if it meant that in less than some hours or so time, John and I would be wrapped about one another; him deeply interred within my body as much as my soul, with our kisses laid to every bare inch of skin and our voices professing and lavishing our love upon one another just as much as our hands and flesh and…

“So… any news on the… Marowski front?”

I could have run a knife through myself just as expertly as Hancock had done with Finn that first day we had met at Goodneighbor’s gates. _Seriously?_ Here we were; so wonderfully entranced with each other and I bring up that stupid, evil, cocksucker? What was _wrong_ with me? Was I just… predisposed to ruining shit for myself? I sighed even after I had said it; glancing off towards the cooler and shaking my head. Ticked off. Hancock gave his own slightly small and annoyed sigh but when he saw my own reaction, I could see that he knew that I’d done myself my own disservice and didn’t seem to want to add to it. Instead, he simply said:

“Thought we were gonna relegate that to the back burner, love.”

“I know, I know.” I murmured, rubbing at my forehead, staring off at the Statehouse’s newly repaired wall as thoughts of genuine concern did indeed drift into my mind and in turn justify my query. “Just… I’m worried about Nick and Dogmeat. I haven’t seen them since you sent the two of them off after that big, stinkin’ tub of stupid. Just wondering if you’d had any word is all.”

Hancock sighed again, conceding that we were indeed going to be having this conversation and took a moment to collect his thoughts in a no doubt polite and cohesive manner. Finally, he looked back up at me and I saw within those dark black orbs of his eyes, the patience that he had mustered. And the strength, that he had worked so desperately to maintain in the discovery of my abuse at the hands of that asshole who had… who had _raped_ me. I couldn’t… I had to admit it for what it was. I had to hold him accountable for the crime he had committed against me. Anything else was just… letting him get away with a lesser sentence. One which I knew Hancock wasn’t the least interested in offering up.

“All right. I’ll clue you in. But –” He held up a finger; softly and yet curtly. One of the very few men I had ever known, aside from my father, who could dance this ever so delicate line. “– no more of this talk for the rest of the night. Yeah?”

I smiled and held up my pinkie finger. “Pinkie swear.” I said, hooking my pinkie finger through his and we both gave a customary little shake that was somehow more the serious than it should have been for what it was. Hancock nodded lightly at me before gesturing over his shoulder; a movement more comprised of his hat than of his head, somehow.

“Okay. I’ll show ya somethin’.”

He chaperoned me down to the ground floor, where two Watchmen who I wasn’t quite familiar with enough to know by name, still made their admiration of my attire known by wolf whistling and offering up various, positive critiques. It managed to put a smile on both mine and Hancock’s faces; which was a good thing, considering how serious a turn the conversation had just taken. When they were done checking me out from every angle they cared to examine, Hancock deposited our coolers to their care for the moment and lead me down one floor further into the basement section.

“So, Nick came and found me ‘bout half an hour after I left you back at Meaghan’s.” He stated, his fingers pinching tighter to mine as we left behind the last stair and passed instead onto the echoing wooden floor of the Statehouse basement. The corresponding doors of the adjacent rooms were firmly closed. “Dogmeat picked up a scent and he trailed it all the way back here to the Statehouse. Comes pitching down the stairs and goes straight into the bathroom. Much to my surprise.”

I smiled knowingly, having some idea now of what must have transpired and leaned in so that we were chest to chest. The gesture did not seem to disappoint Hancock in the least.

“I’m guessing you were in there at the time?”

Hancock groaned, the whites of his eyes showing as he swung them upward towards the ceiling.

“Damn straight. Pooch nearly destroyed the need for the latter part of our date tonight.” He gave me a rather grave look. “ _Seriously_ ; I gotta talk some sense into that boy of yours. I mean, there are daddy issues and then there are _daddy issues._ ”

I gasped dramatically, covering my mouth with my hand like some old-time actress from a small bit drama series. “Oh no! Not _Little_ Hancock!! Is he alright?”

“He’s fine. Big Hancock managed to get him out of the way in time.” Hancock grumbled, twisting slightly to point to his posterior. “To the detriment of his one remaining, until recently _unbitten,_ ass cheek.”

“Aww…” I simpered, tittering softly as I pressed up tighter to his warm body, reaching about to tenderly caress my hand across the curve of his assaulted butt cheek. “That poor bottom of yours sure seems to cop a beating.”

“And then some.” Hancock remarked, quirking one brow up almost inquisitively into his forehead. “I think the universe grandly misinterpreted what I meant when I said I enjoyed the occasional spanking and decided to up the ante.”

My own brow followed suit; my curiosity piqued. “Hmm… a little disciplinary roleplay, eh?” I leaned closer, placing my smiling lips a bare inch from his own as I marched my fingers up the stretch of his chest that his shirt covered even less of than usual. He had more buttons undone then pinned shut. “I’ll have to remember that.”

Hancock smiled, clearly receptive to the idea as he took a hold of those marching digits and brought them up to press lightly to his mouth. “Mm. Pairs well with a tight skirt, high heels, no nonsense glasses and a cane. Sure Meaghan can help you out.” He winked and I laughed, giving his backside a stout smack; a form of reprimand he clearly had no qualms with receiving.

“We’re getting off topic.” I reminded him, trying not to let the images of what Marowski had done to me in his office bleed over into our playful banter. Discipline… control. Or lack, thereof. Marowski… he clearly had a thing for bondage. And, why wouldn’t he? Someone with control issues like him… I fought back the shudder that went through me and fought back the ever-present desire that came with thoughts of him; to press my thighs together tight and wrap my breasts up tightly with each hand. I focused again on Hancock; on his weathered, yet safe and wonderfully warm face. The somehow cool touch of his rough fingers as they gently caressed my own. “What happened after Dogmeat tried to clamp onto Little John?”

Hancock seemed all too aware that my thoughts had been drifting and his brow dipped down; his eyes beseeching further meaning from my expression. Looking for one small hint that might indicate that I was about to royally lose it and start… I don’t know; trying to give one of the Neighborhood Watch boys a sponge bath or something. I kept my expression as light as possible; something I’d had enormous experience with during the long year we’d travelled together. Something I’m quite certain would fail to work just as well with John; now that he was in on the ‘trick’, as it were. I hated thinking that he’d be constantly tiptoeing around this sort of thing; ever concerning himself with the state of my mental and emotional health. I didn’t like the thought of being handled. Not like this, anyway. I wanted my firm, funny, carefree friend; not someone who felt he needed to rock me gently at every turbulent motion the world made in my direction.

I reminded myself once more to practice patience. All this was still new to Hancock. He was suffering for it too; perhaps more so; given that it was fresh and raw and a terrible thing he had been unable to prevent. It had no doubt reminded him of his own abuse as well; something I’d been so dreadfully worried about, given what the Wrangler’s had done to him. Here; in fact. In that… room. No more than twenty or so feet from where we were standing. Christ… no wonder he became a total stoner. It was likely the only way he could continue _living_ in this place, without the memories driving him up the fucking wall-

He interrupted the rapidly accelerating train of my thoughts; perhaps sensing from the aim of my eyes that I was thinking of his own maltreatment and wanting to prevent me from stinting on it. He was a proud man; he was loathe to be pitied.

“Well, Nick made his way in and once he recovered from the shock of seeing me naked and wrestling with a dog…” He had to pause here to give me time to raucously laugh at the very image that this inspired. Poor, poor John. The trials he had gone through behind my ignorant, unknowing back! “Yeah, yeah – laugh it up, Munch. Anyhow, he got Dogmeat to have another whiff of the clothing. Dogmeat does a circle round the shower block, comes back out here and –” He held his hands out on either side of his body; as though once more imitating a set of evenly balanced scales. His expression was just as carefully neutral. “– stops. Right where we’re standing.”

I looked about the basement area; utterly confused and bewildered. The doors to the shower and cell areas were both shut at this time, though a set of wooden double doors wouldn’t pose the least resistance to Dogmeat; a hound who had managed to track Kellogg halfway across the fucking commonwealth on the scent of a musty old cigar stub.

“Right _here?_ ” I re-established pointlessly; frowning and turning in a circle. Trying to figure out if there were any loose planks or hidden doors in the walls through which the great ogre might have slipped. Everything looked tightly boarded up, however. An unusual thing for the Statehouse of Goodneighbor; but I digress. “Well that doesn’t make much sense. Did Dogmeat somehow lose the trail?”

Hancock gave me a look that matched pound for pound just what I had been thinking moments earlier. “Doesn’t seem likely. He might be a jealous little pain in the ass but that nose of his is next to nothing.” He swept a hand down towards the floor; like the tail of a broom sweeping dust away from the aged boards. “The trail should only have grown warmer the further in he went.”

I planted my hands on my hips and pursed my lips; feeling only all the more puzzled by the moment.

“So… Marowski either managed to disguise his trail somehow, or… take off and fly.” I pretended to give this a few good seconds further introspection, for humors sake, before relinquishing the ‘thought’ with a shake of my head. “No… he’s far too fat to get off of the ground.” I glanced around the room once more; clucking the inside of my cheek thoughtfully. “But he couldn’t just… disappear into thin air…”

“I know.” Hancock concurred, one hand on his hip whilst the other rubbed irritably at the back of his neck. A habit of his, I knew, when he was feeling truly irritated and powerless. “It’s weird. Almost like he… teleported or some shit.”

The word sparked my suspicions even further and I turned back from the wall I had been in the midst of scrutinizing; staring at Hancock wide eyed. It seemed so unlikely but then… so had so many other things we’d experienced in this crazy world.

“Like they do in the Institute. You don’t… think…”

Hancock grunted and huffed with clear irritation; turning his head to the side with an expression that suggested he wanted to hock spit at the wall. Evidently finding himself even more frustrated for not having the answer and wanting the conversation as much over with, as he plainly did Marowski’s very existence.

“Honestly, Eve. I could care less if the bastard got beamed up by aliens and was currently being anal probed by an industrial mining drill.” He snapped, flinging his arm irritably towards the ceiling and I couldn’t help the grin that stole across my face; both at the description and… well, for the very fact that John could be so damn adorable when he got stroppy.

“Sure couldn’t happen to a nicer person.” I stated and seeing the look on my face, Hancock relented somewhat in his mood and chuckled lightly in return.

“You know it.” He said, reaching out to cup his hand gently about my cheek. His thumb caressed me and though the gesture was ever so sweet, I found myself worried that he was rubbing a line through my carefully applied concealer. “But given that the guys in bed with the Institute, it’s definitely something we need to consider.”

“It just seems… I mean, teleportation can’t be easy, right?” I queried, placing my hand to the back of Hancock’s and ever so subtly moving his palm down to cup to my neck instead. No damage to be done there. “It must cost a shit load of energy to fire off a machine that’s capable of arranging and rearranging your atoms in the blink of an eye. Why would the Institute waste all of that on some low rent thug like Marowski?”

Hancock gazed downward; lips twisted thoughtfully to the side. “That’s what I figured. But if he could be of use to them somehow, it wouldn’t surprise me if they were to go to the effort.” He looked up into my eyes and rolled his shoulders. “I mean, words gotten out around the Commonwealth about you and your search for the little guy. Institute’s gotta be in the know. Maybe they think Marowski has information or access pertaining to you.”

I pulled a face; even more unconvinced by this than I was with the idea of Marowski sprouting wings and floating up the stairwell like a big, bloated Angel. “That would only stand to reason if Shaun himself was considered a valuable asset. _And_ if they were convinced that I actually posed a threat.” I took a few steps back, spreading my arms and gazing down at myself in support of my statement. “And I seriously doubt that the big bad Institute has got the mockers out for liddle old me.”

Now it was Hancock’s turn to look unconvinced; in that annoying way he had where he seemed to remember that he was considerably older and often times more worldly than me and never was it more apparent than when I opened my mouth and said… much of anything, really.

“Well,” He said, reaching up to take his hat off of his head long enough to fan himself with it. His neck was sweaty, I noticed and I suppose there must have been sweat gathering in the tears on his face. He’d be awfully aware of it too; poor thing. “Either way we don’t have enough information to really hazard a guess.”

I dropped my gaze to the floor, walking about in a circle and lifting my wedged heel to stomp at the boards. It was definitely echoing from the impact…

“Is it possible he just… dropped down through a hatch, or something? I mean, the Third Rail is situated directly below us, ain’t it?”

Hancock looked amused at my denigration in language. A bad habit of mine, where I often adopted phrases, accents or whatnot from the people I spent time with. Reason I’d picked up so many strange English expressions; the amount of time I’d spent home alone with no one but Shaun and Codsworth for company. Nate commented that whenever he came back from the front, it was like stepping into an all English household. Cheeky blighter.

“ _Isn’t it,_ not _ain’t it,_ Munch. Can’t have you pickin’ up our bad talk, or Codsworth’ll have me by the short and curlies. Well, what passes for them anyway.” Hancock said with a wink, before striding up next to me and stomping his own booted foot against the floor. I had a passing thought how hot and sweaty his feet must be in the damn things but I can’t imagine Hancock would ever concede to wearing flip flops, no matter how balmy the weather got. “And there _ain’t_ no hatch to drop down, darlin’. Not so much as a loose floorboard. Rufus done sealed ‘em up all good and tight. Don’t reckon there’s a one so much as _squeaks_ now.”

I threw my arms up in the air; as exasperated with the lack of explanation as he had been earlier. “It couldn’t be that he just… walked on up the stairs and left the building and Dogmeat got… confused with the…” I struggled the find the right words. “… scent overlap?”

“Well, I thought that too.” Hancock murmured, continuing to fan himself with his hat distractedly. I inched a bit closer so I could catch a bit of the breeze and billowed the opening of my top so that my breasts could get some airing out. “But Reggie and Frank were on duty on the ground floor. No one saw him enter and no one saw him exit. Granted he could have slipped in when you guys arrived – that’s _very_ distractin’ when I’m tryin’ to talk, Munch.” (I smirked and smoothed by top back down to cover the girls up). “-Anyhow, all the boys were hangin’ out the doors and windows drooling. Would have missed the fucking USS Constitution if it’d come crashing through the wall.”

I smirked, adopting the most stereotypically popular bitch girl bimbo voice I could manage and struck a pose, pretending to ruffle and preen a long mane of hair that didn’t exist.

“Oh, well shucks, _darling._ What more can you expect; me being as _super-hot_ as I am?”

Hancock grinned, reaching over to lightly bat the back of my head with his hat. “You know, saying that sort of shit when you _are_ super-hot, just makes you sound obnoxious.”

I was starting to get used to him being upfront with his actual feelings, but this one did make me genuinely blush. Given that it was especially generous, to say the least.

“John, I’m hardly super fucking hot.” I cracked one of my shoulders back, loosening some of the tension and tilted my nose up; mustering what I hoped was my very best and most modest expression. “Maybe ten or so years go. Not so much now.”

He laughed, tilting his head and smiling at me in a way that made it look as though he thought I was being purposefully adorable. “Jesus, Munch. I dunno if you got yourself some bad self-esteem or if you really are as blind as you say you are. Gonna go with a mixture of both, I reckon.” He smirked at my exaggerated expression of offense.

“How rude.”

“I’m a rude boy.” He chuckled, using his hat to gesture up to the stairwell; returning us in that one motion to our previous conversation. “In any event, the fellas would have at least had to have seen him leave. Fahrenheit saw him make his way out into the hallway before she got back to you girls so… he had to have gone somewhere.”

I lifted one of my brows at him; enjoying this one, rare moment where I got to act superior to a man who I often felt very demure in comparison to. At least, so far as brains were concerned. “I’m sure one of us would have noticed a big blinding flash come from the hallway; even _with_ the door being shut.”

We could have been a mirror of the other, our expressions were so damn near matching. “Yeah but… you were pretty distracted at the time.”

“Well, sure.” I conceded, with a shrug. If hitting your head on a ceramic wall and belting the shit out of a guy could be defined as a distraction, he had a point. “But teleportation doesn’t just make a flash. It also makes a real loud zapping sound. Almost like… I don’t know.” I waved my hand idly up in the air; the gesture wresting a likely unintentional smile out of Hancock for how purely spacey it was. “Like when someone fires off a rocket launcher and you can hear it coming, right before impact.”

“You seen a lot of teleportation?”

“Just in… Kellogg’s memories.” I stated, sucking back a breath I wasn’t aware I had been in need of. But one that required further sustenance, it seemed. My throat cupped in on itself strangely. My chest burnt harshly with emotion; my heart heating up, my mind pumping chemicals I wanted no part in feeling again. Not… tonight. “But I’ll never forget the sound. Just like I’ll never forget the sound of his voice, his face… the…” I pressed my hand to the bag at my side; felt the familiar outline of that weapon; that awful weapon I had worked so hard to gain mental mastery over. To regain the power; to defeat the monster I might have otherwise made of it. “- the gun…”

And this then was the very lapse that Hancock had obviously been watching for; had been frightened would claim my senses from me again. He neatly fetched his hat back onto his head and was at my side, taking my hand and lifting it to his mouth. He kissed the back of it; squeezing my fingers as they clutched tight about his own; drawing me back sharply to reality, away from the awful shadow of the past that lingered ever so persistently above my shoulders like a caul I would forever be in the wars of shedding.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, though what he had to be sorry for, I hadn’t the foggiest. It was only because of him that I was in any sort of mental state to get out of bed – or, what passed for ‘bed’ in post-apocalyptia – at all. “Let’s not keep talking about this, okay?”

I sighed, staring off to the side. Annoyed with myself; though grief for my husband was quite a natural thing to experience. It had only been a little over a year, after all. But still… I didn’t… I couldn’t just… give up on trying to live my life, could I? After all, I hadn’t been certain that I might have remained with Nate if he had lived. We’d been drifting… the love had… changed. It had never felt like it had with John. _Nothing_ had ever felt like it had with John. Didn’t I have a right to give this a chance? Was I too bad a person to make a go of it? Was it so… _wrong_ of me? Would I be punished ever the more for each thought that took me further from my brave, selfless husband? Was that the purpose Marowski served? My ever present, never absolved tormenter; drifting ever perpetual in the background, waiting to pounce on me? The thought made my heart sort of… shrivel in my chest.

“I know… I… shouldn’t have brought it up.” I sighed, taking his free hand with my own and squeezing it. I looked into those dark, black eyes. Felt the reassurance of his love; of the _right_ to experience his love flow through me. As effortless as the comforting, oozing tranquillity of a Med-X needle. “Just felt like I could rest a little easier… knowing he’d be found or… at least having some idea of where he’s gone.”

“Yeah, I know.” Hancock said, looking truly pained as he rubbed my fingers against the side of his face; laying his lips to them again and again. That love… that true, gentle love he had for me. I _must_ have done something to deserve it, surely. “Wish I could just… pluck the bastard outta thin air and throw ‘im at your feet. Make him beg for forgiveness ‘fore bustin’ a cap in his crown.”

I dug deep and mustered up some of that strength I kept in my reserve tanks; not wanting any of this shit to lay waste to the remainder of our evening. Too much time had been taking up by this maudlin nonsense already. I wanted to start feeling good again. And more than that; I wanted to help John feel better too. Better _and_ good. Given everything we had gone through in the time we’d known one another, didn’t we at _least_ deserve a _night?_ Just one _night_ , for fucks sake? Damned if I was gonna let any more goodness be sequestered away from the two of us. I reached for him; pulled him in and pressed my lips to his cheek. Wrapped my arms around those gorgeous shoulders of his and pulled him tight to me; felt his cheek push to the side of my head. And for just those few moments, the rest of the world faded into meaninglessness. There was just him… the touch of him. All it took for everything else to fall into alignment and make perfect sense out of all that gnarled muddle.

“Well, talking about it is only going to make us both upset again, so I’m gonna go with your earlier suggestion and stop.” I said, easing back at long last and smiling up at him before taking one big, dramatic swooping step backwards and clapping my hands together with finality. “How about we start this date over?”

Hancock laugh and smiled, seemingly intrigued by my turnabout. “Oh? And uh, how you suppose we do that?”

“Like this.” I said, taking a moment to clear my throat before reaching out with my hand extended; as though I were applying most formally for a job interview. I made my tone as purposefully pompous as possible. “Hi. My names Eve and I will be your date for this evening. How do you do, Mister…?”

Hancock chuckled but played along, reaching out to take my hand in his own. He gave me a firm shake; nothing less than what I would have expected.

“Hancock. John Hancock. Pleasure.”

I emitted a very over the top gasp of astonishment, reeling back and pressing my fingertips to my lips.

“John Hancock? You mean like, the Mayor of Goodneighbor, _John Hancock_?”

Hancock preened; staring off into a theoretical far off distance, swishing a hand out like a nautical pioneer. “No, the original actually. The old rebel rouser himself.”

“Wow.” I breathed, setting my hands to my chest, staring him up and down and giving a low whistle of approval. “You’re looking pretty damn _good_ for over six hundred years old.”

He laughed, petting a hand to his cheek and fluttering the lids of his eyes; in place, of course of eyelashes that simply weren’t there any longer. “Thanks. I take air baths and oil the skin with herbal botanicals. It’s amazing what a good liberal spattering of lavender to the fanny can do.”

“Who would have thought? Hey.” I leaned in, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “ _I like your signature.”_

“Thanks.” Hancock said, rubbing the backs of his fingers over his chest before taking a far too profound examination of his nails. They _were_ nicely trimmed, I noticed; though he was always a bit of a dandy when it came to things like this. “Took me hours of practice and about ten thousand napkins until I got it right.”

I laughed at this, so relieved that we had got away from all that depressing shit and were back on familiar footing. The usual, silly carry on we were both so proficient at. Hancock smiled and gestured towards me, continuing the game we had started.

“And what is it that _you_ do, Miss?”

“What, little old me?” I scoffed, waving my hand dismissively. “Oh, I ain’t nothin’ special. Just your average two-hundred-year-old nuclear war survivor with a law degree and predilection for fine food and cheap wine.”

Hancock nodded sagely. “Ah, yes. Well, the church tells me that to imbibe is to quash and diminish our inhibitions; permitting Satan to take foothold within our minds and bodies.”

“Well, good sir. If all the drunks and fornicators are going to hell and all the virgin’s to Heaven, you can guarantee that when I arrive at the crossroads in the afterlife, that I’m gonna be darn well followin’ the horns. Because that’s where the party’s at!”

Hancock bust for laughing, breaking character finally as he pulled me to him with his free arm; wrapping both around my waist once I was close enough to ensnare. “Come here…” He murmured, his lips still curled up into a smile as he pressed them to my own. I cupped the back of his neck, sliding my tongue gently into his mouth; my spine tingling as I felt his own reciprocate, the very tips touching before he guided them skilfully back between my own lips. His hands clenched tighter to me; tracing the sway of my spine before surging over and cupping about each curve of my ass. He brought us closer together. I clasped a hold of his hip with my spare hand; eyes closed, wondering if we might very well just go ahead and devour each other right here and now. Who knows how long it might have gone on for, if we hadn’t been interrupted by the flash of bright green light that blinkered so strong it broke through my shuttered lids and sent me involuntarily flinching away. My lips left Hancock’s with an audible wet ‘smack’ that might have embarrassed me if I hadn’t been so damned freaked out by the light. I could see it still; emanating from the seams surmounting the door opposite us. The one beyond which I knew the cell block resided.

“Holy shit…” I whispered, taking a few steps backwards; my hand sliding into my side bag and clasping about the barrel of my tamed magnum. “You don’t think that’s…?”

I should have realized from Hancock’s notable lack of concern that this wasn’t anything with which I needed to be twisting my barely existent knickers into a knot over.

“No, sweetheart.” He said easily, turning his palm in soothing circles in the small of my back. “Ain’t Marowski. That’s just Jack going to work.”

“Going to work?” I asked, looking up at him inquisitively. Though I had a fairly good idea of what he meant by ‘work’ and felt it would be stupid to ask, I went ahead and did all the same. “What do you mean?”

Hancock’s expression was as stoic as I had ever seen it and he avoided making eye contact with me as he replied. Which usually meant we were on the verge of discussing something the two of us weren’t likely to be simpatico on.

“The boys’ managed to round up a couple of the Triggermen this afternoon. Jack’s just trying to work some information out of ‘em.”

“Oh shit.” I murmured, turning back to stare at the door; at the green light strobing out from every edge as though a high-tech dance party was being staged just out of sight. “He’s not… torturing them, is he?”

As is the nature of a true politician; Hancock’s response was ever so diplomatic. “His is more of a… _delicate_ approach than straight up torture. Jack just gets inside of their heads. Literally.” He turned back to look at me, catching the expression of shock that had no doubt struck my features numb and waved his free hand, assuaging. “Oh, no I didn’t mean that he cuts their heads open, or anythin’ like that, darlin’. No, he uses his radiation to probe their minds.” He twirled a finger beside his cranium; a gesture usually associated with the inference that someone had lost their marbles. “He can stir up the bits in their brains that make ‘em talk and tell the truth, ya know? Better than any truth serum, _that’s_ for sure.”

“Jesus.” I said staring back towards the door; brows arching in both admiration… and… a little fear, perhaps. “He really is a wonder that boy, isn’t he?”

Hancock gave a sad smile, his own gaze drifting back over to where the glow had finally ebbed about the lining of the doorway. “Think he’d trade it in a heat beat if it meant he could be just like any other Ghoul. Or Smoothskin.” The arm on my back urged me just that little closer; reminding himself of his own good fortune, I suppose. I felt the press of his side against my own; almost ribcage to ribcage. “Dames tend to be put off by the prospect of being massively irradiated. And there ain’t no rubber strong enough for that shit.”

“I feel bad for the guy.” I said, with a pronounced sigh. Though what good my sympathy was, I don’t know. Couldn’t fix an irreversible problem, could it? “He’s so nice.”

“Yeah… hopefully the right one’ll come along for him soon.” Hancock said, ducking his head down a little to flash me one of his usual, reassuring smiles. Sensing perhaps, that I was on the cusp of feeling sad again and wanting to quickly nip it in the bud. “Especially with more traffic through the town.”

Though his tenderness had softened me up somewhat, I forced myself to be firm for just one moment; reminding myself of some of the instances I had witnessed during our travels and how not ‘diplomatic’ John could be at times.

“So, this is all you’re going to do to these guys, right?” I asked, with a degree of resolve to my voice that made me sound like the combination of Mom and lawyer I was usually ever so practiced at. It amused me still, to think that I was one of the very few people that could lecture the irrepressible John Hancock like this. “Just have Jack make them talk? You’re not going to be a bully?”

Hancock’s eyes widened innocently. “Since when have you ever known me to be a bully?”

“Don’t play dumb.” I said seriously, giving him a firm, admonishing poke to the chest. “You know full well you can be a bit of a bully when it suits you. Leaning on people for money owed, putting on that ‘tough guy’ voice, getting them all nervous and bent out of shape.”

Hancock snorted dismissively. “That’s not called ‘being a bully’, Munch. It’s called ‘ _being tough’_.” His eyes bored into mine, quite as serious as I had ever seen him. “In my position, I can’t afford to be _too_ laid back, or folks’ll start thinkin’ they can walk all over me. Gotta put the hard word on occasionally, kiddo.”

I sighed, resisting the temptation once more to rake my fingers back through my hair. It’s amazing the little habits that you pick up on when you’re dressed to the nines and trying to avoid ruining your hard work. “Yeah, look I get that. I do. It’s just… given what’s happened and how much it’s upset you…” I unfurled my remaining fingers and gently petted and stroked that bare patch of skin of John’s chest. Felt it swell with the inhale of his breath. “I just… I want you to know when and where to draw the line. I don’t want innocent people having the shit beaten out of them for _my_ sake.”

It was the right thing to say, because now Hancock didn’t think I was up and trying to tell him how to get shit done in his own town. He realized that I simply didn’t like the idea of potentially unknowing innocents being hurt because of something that had happened to _me_ ; something that I myself had set in motion. His brows lifted away from his eyes and the skin around his mouth slackened as his temper softened and the palm of his hand stroked my hip and side with a different kind of firmness now. Comforting.

“Ain’t for your sake entirely, Munch. It’s because of what _Marowski’s_ done. He’s the one put them in this position.” The look he flashed me now was one of genuine interest. “And why are you so bent out of shape over a bunch of Triggermen, anyway? These guys are scum. They work for Marowski. Not to mention they’re little more than glorified thieves, thugs and bullies ‘emselves.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re necessarily on board with everything Marowski does.” I insisted; surprised that this was something Hancock was having difficulty understanding. He wasn’t the type of person to just lump individuals into one overarching category. It especially wasn’t the ‘Goodneighbor way’ he spoke so passionately about. “You need to keep in mind that most of them are probably completely ignorant of what he’s doing.”

Hancock shrugged lightly, though his expression suggested that he was taking on board what I was saying. Even as it drifted over to focus pointedly on the double doors leading into the cells. “World is a dangerous place to live. Not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don’t do anything about it.”

I cocked my head at him; amused and a little annoyed that he was resorting to one of those tried and true tricks of his that he whipped out when I started making too much sense to him.

“Are you gonna try and win this one by out-quoting me again, smart ass?”

“Bumped a Mentats before I came to pick you up.” Hancock said, turning and smirking cheekily at me. “I might be feeling a touch intellectual.”

“Uh-huh. And just which historic genius do you lend your reasoning to?”

He pretended to be shocked by my mental restrictions when it came to famous quotes; though he knew full well that I didn’t have the sort of memory that he did. Chem use aside; there were still some pretty hard-core brain stems going to work in that noggin of his.

“Only _Albert Einstein_ , Munch. A genius who slept around.” He winked at me; clearly relating to the idea of a smart dude that could both deduct and get laid at the same time. “Guy knows his shit.”

“Huh.” I huffed, refusing to be impressed by his wit on this one. Time to give some of my own back and not let him get away with thinking he was the only one with a verbal arsenal up his frocked sleeves. “Very poignant. But how about this:” I raised a finger and tapped the apex of his nasal cavity daintily. “ _Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”_

Hancock cocked his head at me; twisting his lips off to the side and staring, expressionless. “That’s probably the hippiest fucking thing I’ve heard you say yet. And that’s sayin’ somethin’.”

I aimed a hard punch to his kidneys for that one. “That’s Martin Luther King Jr you’re calling a hippy there, mister.”

Hancock laughed, rubbing at his side as he stepped back in and clucked his thumb to my chin again. “Hey, are gonna talk smack to each other in the form of famous historical quotations all night? Or are we gonna have ourselves a hot date?”

“Oh. Hot date for sure.” I agreed, chuckling as I received the light kiss he stole before taking up his arm and allowing him to lead me back towards the stairs. “But don’t discount the quote thing entirely. I think it’s sexy when you show off your brain.”

“It is a pretty sexy part of me.”

“Next to that sweet little ass of yours.” I said, grinning and smacking my palm to his butt a few times. Hancock preened; shutting both eyes and waggling his head from side to side as though entirely pleased with himself.

“Well, that’s a given.” He replied, which set the two of us to laughing again as we retrieved our coolers from the ground floor watch and sashayed our way out the street side door and into still warm air of the night.

I was surprised to find Pattie waiting for us; twirling one of his pistols casually about his hand and whistling a cheery tune I couldn’t say I recognized. He had an elf’s hat perched on top of his fedora; a festive adornment that did nothing to detract from just how insanely handsome the man was.

Pattie was… how does one put this eloquently? Hot as _fuck_ , I suppose is the only way to put it. In my time, he would have been wasted if he hadn’t taken up modelling or working in films, or some shit. And he was a bastard for it too; given his reported Med-X addiction, you would think he’d have terrible skin or weight problems or some nonsense, but no. He had clear, pale skin; dotted with only a few freckles about his nose and was in terrific shape. Long and lean, just… perfectly proportioned. _All over_ , if half of what Cait had told me was true.

He had dirty blond hair; usually pulled back into a topknot that somehow always looked just right, pouted lips and large blue eyes, framed by long dark lashes that I would have _killed_ to have been naturally gifted with. So irregular with his fair hair, too. His jawline wasn’t quite so nicely defined as John’s was but it managed to dance that perfect line between strong and soft that would have definitely made him a teenage heart throb.

Not only was he easy on the eyes; but he was talented to boot. Kid could sing and dance and was a confident performer of most… anything a person could do, if you whacked them up on a stage. I bet he could have marshalled ventriloquism, if you gave him but a day to practice it. Guy was a natural performer and with all the confidence and charisma to pull it off.

Pattie was the kind of man that would walk down the street and every woman would have to stop and take another look at him. I remember asking Meaghan once how John had compared in the looks department back in the day; given that a lot of folks in Goodneighbor often compared him to Pattie. Meaghan stated that Hancock had been very much like Pattie back in his younger years; both in personality and appearance. She did however confirm that the only other man in town who had been able to compete with John in the looks department had been Thomas and he had been more pretty than handsome. With a sigh, she lamented, such as so many did, what a waste it was that John had taken that radiation drug because he’d been one hell of a looker before jamming that needle into his vein.

I had since seen a photograph of John when he had been in his twenties and a Smoothskin and there _were_ indeed some physical similarities between both him and Pattie. But Meaghan had been right; John had been even more striking. Which made sense, given that he was still handsome as a Ghoul. He had a warmer face than Pattie did, however. Pattie had that sort of… beautiful, yet _cool_ expression, most of the time. Made as such, given how often the guy got himself laid but I think, unlike John, he’d let a bit of his success go to his head.

Not that he was a bad kid, for all his showing off. He was funny and flirty and good to be around; so long as he wasn’t trying to get in your pants. Which he certainly wasn’t going to attempt to be doing with me. Not… anymore, I should think. Besides, we both enjoyed picking on one another too much for there to be any sort of spark. No, I think John was more in danger of my leaving him for Adrian, if anyone.

As Hancock and I dragged our collective coolers partway down the stairs, Pattie finally took note of us and used the pistol he had been playing with to casually salute from the brim of his hats.

“Top of the evenin’ to ya, Mr and Mrs Goodneighbor.” He said, his Irish accent just as thick as Cait’s. Though they hadn’t been raised in the same community, both had grown up in townships where the Irish folks had stuck together and kept the accents as close to what they were back in the day. He let out a whistle as his eyes trailed up and down the line of my body shamelessly. “Well, be lookin’ at you, Munchkin! Don’t scrub up too bad, now do ya?”

I laughed and did a little curtsy on the spot. “Why, thankyou good sir. I don’t think you need me reminding you of how hot you are, as usual.” And then, just because I knew it would rouse him, I gasped and pointed up dramatically at the Elf’s hat proudly crowning his fedora. “Oh my God! You’re dressed as a _leprechaun!”_

Hancock actually had to turn away to hide his snort of laughter, which was kind of him because I don’t think he would have ordinarily concerned himself with Pattie’s feelings.

Pattie, you see, hated Irish stereotypes. Such as people making fun of his accent, using over the top Irish sayings, or referencing pretty much anything he did or said with his Irish heritage. Of course, being the tease that I am, it didn’t take me long to find this little button and start blatantly pushing the ever-loving shit out of it.

As expected, Pattie sighed long and low, putting his hands on his hips and staring towards the ground. He counted down from five, swaying his head from side to side as he worked to muster some internal patience. Finally, he appeared to happen upon it and pointed purposely up at the hat.

“ _This_ … is an _Elf’s_ hat, Munch.” He stated, using a very slow ‘talking to simpletons’ type voice. “It’s _Christmas_. I’m an elf. It’s not St Patrick’s day. You know-” He swished his arms from side to side; emulating a little on the spot jig, as he deliberately thickened his accent. “-it’s not a wee green hat with a gold buckle on it, is it?” He glowered, pointing once more to the hat with an almost demented expression. “ELF.”

I held up my hands defensively; trying to fight down the giggles that were threatening to erupt at any moment. Oh my god, picking on him was just _too_ fun. “Whoa, ease up there.” I said, morphing from a thick Texan accent to a very over the top impersonation of Pattie’s own Irish twang. “Why don’t we all just slug a pint of Guinness and calm down a wee bit?”

Pattie narrowed his eyes at me; clearly unimpressed. “Hey, do you see _me_ making fun of that-” And here he went WAY over the top Fargo Plain’s Talk. “-stupid mook accent you got, _dontcha-know_? You don’t hear me telling you to go off and smoke the piece pipe or do a little rain dance or…” He spluttered wildly, looking for more Native American stereotypes to pluck from thin air. “-make a… hat out of fucking chicken feathers!”

I nodded seriously, placing my hand on my hip and looking towards the ground as though deeply ashamed of my behaviour. Hancock continued to just observe the two of us; chuckling quite openly and unashamedly now. Picking on Pattie was a bit of Goodneighbor right, sadly. One that I had somehow managed to bungle up on, regardless of how I felt about bullying people in general. Good thing the boy was a good sport.

“You’re right. That was very culturally insensitive of me.” I lifted a finger into the air, as though I had alit upon an amazing discovery. “How about I make it up to you with a joke?”

Knowing full well what my jokes were like, it was no surprise that Pattie didn’t want a bar of it. “Don’t even-”

I ignored him. “What do you call an Irish man covered in boils?”

Pattie turned to Hancock; his cheeks reddening as his temper started flaring up. “Boss, you might be pokin’ her but I swear I’m gonna fuckin’ kill the cheeky-”

“A leper-chaun!” I interjected, laughing uproariously at Pattie’s offended expression. It was a stupid, lame joke to be sure but hey; that’s what I’m known for. And so long as it stirred his pot, who cared whether it was witty or not.

Pattie looked as though he couldn’t decide whether to shit or go blind. He just stood there for a moment, glowering at me before, with a violent grunt, he reached up, tugged the hat off of his head and pitched it firmly to the ground.

“That’s it. Fuck this ‘Santa’s little Helpers’ bullshit. I’m gonna find some reindeer antlers and be Rudolph.”

“Sorry.” Hancock said, still chuckling as he shook his head at our antics. “Ryan’s already bagsed being Rudolph this year. You can be Prancer or Donner.”

Pattie’s face slumped at once into an offended pout. “ _Prancer_ or _Donner?_ Why are only the poofy options left?”

I laughed as I fetched Pattie’s hat up off of the ground (not failing to miss how Hancock leaned to the side to take a look at my ass as I bent over) and dusted it off. “I really don’t think a reindeer’s name says much about their sexual orientation, Pattie.” I held the hat back out to him; encouraging him to take it. “Come on, shake it off. Put your hat back on and make a racist Native-American joke and we’ll call it even.”

Pattie stood firm in his convictions to not make life easy for me; staring suspiciously from the corners of his eyes before turning and shoving his nose in the air. The gesture reminded me so much of Meaghan during one of her diva moments, it was uncanny.

“No.”

I stuck my hands on my hips; the hat dangling down so that they bauble at the top tickled my thigh.

“What? We gonna cry like a little sookie baby now?” I raised one fist and used it to pretend to rub against my eyes. “Oh waa-waa Evie made fun of me because of me wee Irish accent, boo-fucking-hoo.”

Pattie glared at me unappreciatively. “You know, you were a lot nicer before Hancock started stickin’ it to ya.” The smallest smile peaked his lips as the expression of offense now transferred over to my face. “Now you’ve just gone mad with the bit of power he rubbed off inside of ya.”

I gasped at the filthy insinuation, but grinned as well, enjoying the byplay as I reached across to smack him hard across the arm with the Elf hat. “You dirty little-”

Of course, losing my cool was precisely what Pattie had been waiting for. He leaned into my strike, reaching down and gently snagging a hold of my wrist, pulling me in close so that our bodies were almost flush with one another’s. An evil smile wreathed his lips as his remaining hand whipped out from the pocket in which it had been subtly hanging and suspended a sprig of mistletoe right above my head.

“HA!” He crowed triumphantly, wriggling the mistletoe about so that it’s trailing end tickled my forehead. “Fucking _got_ you! Sweet, sweet revenge, lassie!”

I gave a low whistle; almost approving as I stared up at the mistletoe. Twined together, I noticed this time, with pink ribbon. ‘Gender specific’ in Pattie’s eyes I suppose.

“Sneaky bastard…”

“Uh-uh. You know the rules. Pucker up.” Pattie scolded, making kissy lips in my direction. His face froze mid pucker, his fingers suddenly tightening against my arm as Hancock’s own hand took firm grip about his wrist. He didn’t look angry but his face couldn’t have looked any more serious.

“Mistletoe ain’t a binding contract, Pattie.” He said, his voice taking on that firm ‘don’t-fuck-with-me’ tone I usually only got to hear when he was laying down the law to someone owing him money. “And puttin’ her in this position ain’t appropriate. _All things considered_.”

 _‘All things considered._ ’ Of course. This wasn’t about Hancock being possessive; he wasn’t the jealous type and he knew that a Christmas time ‘mistletoe kiss’ meant nothing. It was because I was damaged goods now. Don’t push Eve too hard. Don’t tease her or impose on her in any way shape or form or ‘whoops!’ Off of the cracker swiftly swoops the cheese!

This sort of ‘softly-softly’ approach was gonna go out of fashion real fast. I didn’t need to be treated with kid gloves, I needed to be treated like I was _normal._ I was still the same Eve, regardless of what Marowski had done to me. And just because I’d needed to let off steam that afternoon and bawl like a great muling baby, didn’t mean he had to go and get over protective over me.

I reassured him by reaching up and taking a hold of his hand; smiling as I first squeezed it and then, adding some firmness of my own, pried it away from poor Pattie’s no doubt, currently bruised bicep. Hancock had had a pretty hard hold of him, poor guy.

“John; you’re putting me in a very dangerous situation right now.” I said with a gentle, placating smile that seemed to calm both Hancock and Pattie in the same gesture. “Don’t you know that refusing the kiss of a man who has caught you under the Mistletoe will bestow misfortune upon the woman? I think my luck’s bad enough without having _that_ curse hanging over my head. No pun intended.”

Seeing that I was taking the whole thing light heartedly must have been reassurance enough for Hancock because I could see the tension quite literally ebb from his face; like a plug had been pulled from the depths of his emotions, permitting the residue to swirl free. He released Pattie, rolling both shoulders up into a shrug of indifference and backing off about three or so steps.

“Well, if that’s the case, who am I, but a humble mayor of a humble town, to stand in the way of tradition?” He said, his eyes still slightly creased in the corners with concern as he pretended to not be so concerned about me. I did my best to pretend, in turn, that I didn’t notice.

“Tradition also states that the kissing can’t stop until all the berries have been pulled from the mistletoe.” Pattie added, rather cheekily mind you, given the reprimand he’d just received. He gave the mistletoe a potent dangle; displaying for our inspection, the inordinate number of berries that seemed to be hanging from the thing. Hancock’s accommodating smile quickly twisted into something that suggested a foul smell had lain siege to his nasal cavity and his brows furrowed down to follow suit.

“Don’t push your luck, kid.” He growled, the threat all too clear that he was willing to abide ‘a’ kiss but not anything that transpired past a few, polite seconds. If anything. Pattie, unfazed, just shrugged and grinned.

“Ah… can’t blame a guy for tryin’, can ya?”

I laughed softly at the look on Hancock’s face, which plainly suggested that he would very much like to blame Pattie in the most physical means possible and reached over to pet his chest and rest my lips to his ear.

“It’s okay.” I whispered, fighting back the urge to giggle because his expression was akin to someone who looked as though they had just been told the world was coming to an abrupt, Chem-free end. “Cool the jets before you go and start makin’ people think you’re the jealous type.”

Hancock hefted a deep, theatrical sigh; reaching up to squeeze my arm. He looked me in the eyes; playing up to the supposed ‘seriousness’ of the situation.

“Just...” He took a breath in; staggering it, so that it came across like a barely suppressed sob. “Promise you’ll be… thinking of me.”

Pattie groaned and rolled his eyes at the display; the mistletoe still firmly suspended above the crown of my head.

“Give the girl a break, boss. It’s the Christmas season. Show a little charity.”

I laughed as I turned back to him, reaching up to jam the elf’s hat back on his fedora whilst I had the opportunity. “Just a small one.” I established, holding up a finger before his handsome expression. Nail neatly trimmed and filed for once (thanks again to Meaghan and her fastidious detail to feminisation). “No tongue.”

Pattie laughed brazenly. “Hey. I’m _Irish_ remember.” He said, clearly making a point out of the fun I’d poked at him earlier. “I’m probably so _drunk_ it’ll just _accidentally_ fall in.”

“Your tongue _accidentally_ falls anywhere and the next place it’ll be falling is right over the wall.” Hancock growled; his warning light but leaving nothing to be misinterpreted. He held two fingers up to his mouth, stuck out his own tongue and indicating a snipping motion; as though cutting it clean off with a pair of scissors. As though the threat required further visual clarification. “Keep it behind your teeth.”

Pattie chuckled lightly, flashing a little salute with his free hand. He didn’t look bothered by Hancock’s words in the least; though I’m quite certain, knowing enough of his personality, that he’d gotten more than a few clips behind the ear from John in the past. Maybe he was beyond saturation point, by this stage. Likely, he was a little like Hancock in this way. Enjoyed getting people all hot and bothered; in all meanings of the expression.

“I’ll be a perfect, proper gentleman.” Pattie assured, which immediately roused a matching, unconvinced snort from both Hancock and myself. “Buuu~t I can’t be held accountable if she decides to up leave you afterward.”

“I’ll try to control myself.” I said, raising both hands and quirking my fingers in towards my chest. As though spurring on an opposing cage fighter. “Right. Bring it on, big boy.”

Pattie laughed, calling me on my moxie. “Oh, consider it _brought._ ” He said, keeping firm hold of the mistletoe (as though afraid that in relinquishing it, he would lose his opportunity to get one up on poor Hancock) and ducked his head down, pressing his lips firm to my own. I kept them relaxed; not stiffening up or sucking them into my mouth but not really providing much in the way of reciprocation. Just letting it be a kiss. Praying that he hadn’t been with any other women before approaching me with that mistletoe. Given some of the things Cait had informed me that he did with those lips…

It wasn’t a bad kiss and I could tell he would have been very good at it, if he went for broke but there were a few things inhibiting that. One; this was a mistletoe kiss and two, his boss and my boyfriend was standing less than five feet away and had taken to playing with his knife whilst waiting for us to finish up. I took this as a clear sign that his good humor had finally run thin and took a step back from Pattie, breaking the kiss. I petted him on the chest, smiling.

“You are _shameless._ ” I stated, reaching into my side bag and taking out my lipstick to reapply. Pattie smirked down at me, his own lips and part of his chin adorned with a purple stain.

“What can I say?” He said nonchalantly, inclining his head towards Hancock. “I learned from the best.”

“You make it sound like I gave you kissing lessons down the back alley.” Hancock muttered, sliding his knife back around his hip and into the sheathe he wore traditionally fastened to the back of his belt. “Much as you would have loved that, I’m sure.”

He smirked now at Pattie’s insolent, spluttering face and reached out with his arm, encouraging me to slide in under it. I did so, resting my head back against his chest and reaching up to where his hand dangled casually over my shoulder. I linked our fingers together, giving his thumb a soothing caress with my own. He smiled down at me, seemingly unconcerned now that he had me back in his fold and then turned his attention back to Pattie; who was using the side of his sleeve to rub the lipstick from his face.

“You our babysitter for the evening?”                       

Pattie puffed out his chest; stuffing the mistletoe away so that he could smack his hands to the matching gun holsters at his hips. “You know it. Chaperone, bodyguard, escort, nursemaid, whatever you wanna call it. Here to guide you through your evening and take a bullet with only the briefest moment of hesitation.” He paused long enough to leer at me. “Keep in mind that I’m also ready, willing and able to step in should you decide this ugly old bastard isn’t up to the task of satisfying you, Munch.”

I widened my eyes. “My, what a service. Do you charge by the hour?”

“Standard Watchmen wage, darlin’. The uh, extras are just…” He waggled his eyebrows in a manner that I’m sure most young women would have found incredibly enticing. “- _part_ of the service. And a reward in and of itself.”

“Cool.” I said, nodding seriously before reaching around Hancock’s waist with my spare hand and petting the curve of his hip. “Tell you what; how’s about you just perch yourself in the corner for the evening and I’ll tap you in if John’s hip starts giving out?”

Humorously enough, Pattie seemed to consider this for a few seconds before then pulling a face as he realized what sitting in the same room whilst Hancock and were getting it on entailed.

“Not sure I’m paid enough to stare at his dimply old ass.” He muttered, staring sidelong at Hancock who simply beamed back pleasantly. “Even if it happens to be on top of _your_ naked body, Munch.”

Hancock’s smirk was only the more angelic at what most would take as some rather hurtful comments. Instead of taking offense however, he simply continued to radiate that smile and stated: “Shouldn’t be a new experience for you to be sitting alone in a corner watching _me_ get laid, Pattie boy.”

“Oh ha, ha.” Pattie said sarcastically, though a part of me suspected, not unfairly, that this had probably been a true to life occurrence at some point. These Goodneighbor boys didn’t possess much in the way of shame, I was quickly coming to realize.

I heard a whirring sound from somewhere off to Hancock’s left and twisted about to see Codsworth hoovering up to us.

“Good evening, Mum!” He called, in his usually clipped and fastidious accent. I wondered whether he had been informed of the Marowski situation? If he had, he was doing an excellent job of remaining jolly in spite of the knowledge. “Might I say that you look especially lovely this evening!”

“Hi Codsworth!” I called, my smile widening as I left Hancock’s side briefly to attend to my Butler bot. I put my hands to the side of his chassis and leaned in to quickly peck my lips to the top of his domed body; living another purple lipstick mark in my wake. You’d be able to track me across town at this rate; like Hansel and Gretel, leaving a trail of bread crumbs. “Where have you been all today? Feel like it’s been forever since I last saw you.”

“Helping me out, actually.” Hancock said and then, because I turned and flashed him a no doubt reproachful look: “What? I needed an inside man! Or… robot, rather. And Codsworth knows what you like and don’t like just about better than anyone else. He was able to give me some advice as to how to go about things tonight.”

“Right.” I said suspiciously, turning slowly back to look Codsworth square in one of his three eye cameras. Not that I didn’t love the dear Butler bot to absolute bits but the guy was overzealous when it came to being honest and there were more than a couple of… choice pieces of information from my former life that I wasn’t sure my current spouse needed ‘abridging’ of. “What _exactly_ were you telling John about my likes and dislikes, Codsworth?”

Codsworth waved his pincer arm in what I suppose was intended to be an assuaging manner.

“Oh, now you needn’t worry, Mum! I have been the sole of absolute discretion.” And, in evidence of just how ‘discreet’ he was, Codsworth here lowered his voice to what could only be described as a ‘screaming whisper’. “Rest assured; I’ve mentioned _nothing_ about those delightfully funny games you and sir used to play when you chased him around the kitchen counter wearing nothing but war paint-”

Oh shit. I felt the blood literally drain from out of my face as, in the background Hancock and Pattie descended into delighted snorts and chortles. “Um, Codsworth-”

He ploughed on, undeterred or at the very least, unaware of how loudly his voice was actually carrying. “- or those novel devices you made use of when sir wasn’t around to appease your more base and carnal desires-”

 _OHGODOHGODOHGODOHGODSHUTTHEFUCKUPNOW!!_ “Codsworth-!!”

“- you remember, don’t you?” He enquired cheerfully, holding up his pincer claw and spinning it about to emulate the shape; a display which was certainly not the least bit lost on my very amused audience. “Each crowned with the most delightful artist’s rendering of some woodland creature! Such as a rabbit, or a hummingbird, or a beaver as I recall in one instance-”

Pattie was now laughing so hard that he was bent in two; hands pressed to his knees as he attempted to get a decent enough breath down to recover. Hancock, surprisingly, was managing to somehow maintain his composure and was laughing in that way people often do with their lips together; his smile near looping up to touch his ears however. I don’t think I’d ever seen his eyes quite that sparkly and happy; exempting perhaps when I had kissed him that first time.

“Whoa.” He commented, giving me a look of genuine interest as he placed a hand on his hip and cocked his head towards me. “How many of these things did you _own_ exactly, Munch?”

“Boss, come on, that ain’t polite.” Pattie finally managed to remark and then, because Hancock was looking at him peculiarly, added: “You _interrupted_ the guy.” He said, gesturing with one hand towards Codsworth. “Let him finish.”

My face was burning so hard beneath my makeup, I’d be very surprised if so much as a drop remained by the time this conversation was over. Which I brought to a very swift and abrupt end by thrashing my arms back and forth with the same kind of verve someone might try to bring down a plane when they are stranded on a desert island.

“Nope. I think that’s _quite_ enough for the evening, thank you!” I all but yelled, turning and flashing a filthy look at the otherwise innocently hovering countenance of my robotic butler. “And thanks, Codsworth for being so _discreet_ about my sex life.”

“But of course, Mum.” Codsworth exclaimed; clearly having not picked up on my very pointed sarcasm. “It is nothing short of a Butlers prime directive.”

“Can you at least tell us a bit more about the chasings with war paint?” Pattie tentatively enquired, twirling a finger about in the air as though it were conducive in drawing more information. “Where exactly was she wearing it?”

And before I could launch a kick into his groin for even daring _ask_ the question, Codsworth was answering it. Because a Butler also must maintain fastidious politeness at all times, of course and it would be _rude_ not to answer a question.

“Well not on her face.” He stated, in a surprised sounding voice; his eye shutters all cinching open as far as they could go. “Which is ironic, given that that’s where it’s typically worn. And I’m not so certain _I_ would choose to go into battle wearing nothing but paint.”

“Oh, for fucks sake, Codsworth _enough!_ ” I yelled, finally losing my temper with the whole stupid, perverse affair. I turned on Hancock who stepped back nimbly out of kicking/punching range. He’d had ample time to learn _this_ particular lesson since we’d come to know one another. “Is there a reason he’s here now? Other than to, you know, mortify the living shit out of me?”

Hancock chuckled, his chest all but quaking in his effort to suppress his amusement at the situation. “I don’t know what your problem is, Munch. I think his stories are a delight.” Still chortling to himself, he bent down, picking up both coolers and passing them over to Codsworth; who was able to hold the heaviest in his pincer limb, whilst balancing the other on his skill saw attachment. “Actually, what he’s _doing_ is being kind enough to forward these on to where we’ll be enjoying the second half of our date tonight. Just so we don’t have to lug ‘em around with us while we’re checking out the stalls.”

I simmered down a little; starting to feel slightly rude for how I had reacted. Despite the privacies Codsworth had unknowingly forwarded on to two of the most perverted individuals in Goodneighbor, there had been no malicious intent behind it. “Oh. Well. Yes, that is very kind.” I conceded, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly as I stared towards the ground like an embarrassed pre-pubescent. I always got embarrassed when I lost my cool; regardless of the circumstances. Something they kind of drill into you when you’re working to pass the bar. “Thankyou Codsworth.”

“Not at all, Mum.” Codsworth responded brightly; apparently not at all concerned with my having told him to shut his voice box only less than a minute earlier. He had a thick chassis, this one. “It is a delight and a privilege.”

“Okay, don’t lay it on too thick, Butler Bot.” Pattie groaned, giving Codsworth a slight push in the side to send him humming along on his way. Quite literally; he was purring some old timey tune as he went veering off through the assorted stalls that were currently lining the streets of Goodneighbor, until finally disappearing into the mingling throngs of people gathered about. Hancock have a brief jerk of his hand in farewell.

“Catch ya later, Codsworth. Thanks again!” He called before stepping back up closer to me, having decided to chance his luck it seemed and wrapping his arm about my shoulders again. He smirked at my still somewhat sullen and no doubt sulky expression before giving me a gentle little shake. “So… shall we crack on?”

I reminded myself to smile; remembering that tonight was going to be a fun night. The first night in so long that John and I had spent together. Jesus, over a month since we’d had a session and now… well. There was only the more to enjoy in the way of what delights Goodneighbor and my very willing partner in crime had to offer. I turned to direct my smile back up at him; twining my fingers back through his own once more and pressing my shoulder into his side.

“Hey, you’re the one with the agenda for tonight. Where to first?”

Hancock turned and gestured straight ahead with a bob of his hat. “Third Rail. Start the evening off right with a couple of drinks.”

I chuckled, squeezing his fingers and bumping his hip conspiratorially with my own. Of course. “You read my mind. Let’s scoot.”

Keeping his arm twined firmly about my shoulder, Hancock lead me down the Statehouse steps and steered me along the wall towards the Third Rail; located directly below the balcony of the Statehouse itself. I turned my head briefly, aware of Pattie falling into step behind us; one of his pistols out and held at the ready in his left hand. His eyes must have been lingering on things they ought not to have been however, because Hancock, though staring directly ahead, seemed all too aware of what was going on and dropped his hand from my shoulder and used it to cover my bottom. The sigh Pattie emitted only further proved my suspicions.

“Spoilsport.” He muttered, which earned a flash of a smile from over Hancock’s shoulder.

“Don’t get nothin’ for free in this world, brother.” He stated, gently sliding his hand into the back pocket of my shorts so it could rest there comfortably while we walked. I liked the warmth and security of this gesture; so casual you might have thought we had been doing this for some years already. As though touching my backside was to him, little different than guiding me along by the small of my back or the crook of my arm. If not for Pattie standing behind, no doubt staring, I could probably have enjoyed it even more.

I leaned closer, ducking under the brim of Hancock’s hat so that I could whisper into his ear.

“Seriously. I mean, I love the kid but he’s not actually going to be sitting in on our… _dinner_ is he?”

Hancock laughed as he turned to whisper back at me; our lips just about grazing together they were so close.

“Don’t like the idea of being _watched_ , Munch?”

“I get performance anxiety.” I stated superciliously, my eyes drifting back once more to take in Pattie’s cheerful little trot as he pattered along behind us. “I’m not like those horny so and so’s from the Cavellian Club.”

Hancock laughed, his hand squeezing my bottom gently. “Relax. Pattie ain’t comin’ to dinner or _anything else_ for that matter. He’s going to be guarding the entryway of the place I’m taking you. Only one way in and out and he’ll be covering it.” He gave a quick, sharp wink. “And there’ll be a bit of distance between us and him. He won’t hear nothin’.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Because he’s just the type to go and gossip about it to all the other boys.” I tossed my head dramatically and added, with serious inflection: “Can’t have him taking that away from _you_ , can we?”

Hancock preened, feigning offense. “Please. I am the soul of discretion, Munch.”

I tilted my head and stared at him uncertainly. “Uh-huh. Just like _Codsworth’s_ the soul of discretion, I bet.”

By this stage, we had finally made it around the corner and encroached upon the Third Rail. It looked busier than ever, with new signage only more evident now that it was night time; flashing neon lights so bright it would have put anyone with a diagnosis of epilepsy in danger. This did not appear to have been the only thing modernized either.

As we stepped inside, I noticed that it too had been cleaned up, repainted and repaired where required. The upstairs area had its own bar now, which was being manned by a male and female crew of two; people I didn’t recognize but would likely get to know well, given what a steadfast customer us alcoholics tend to be.

People were milling about in this area, sipping and or guzzling their drinks and listening to music that was playing from a nearby radio. Laughter and voices drifted up from downstairs; assuring me that no business had been lost in the lower quadrant on account of these modernisations in the upper wing. There were more than a few couples pressed tight to walls and each other; talking but most readily making out with such enthusiasm it might have shocked me. If not for my foray into the _Cavellian Club_ and it’s Machiavellian masquerade of horny wonders.

Ham, a stiff shirted and overtly serious Ghoul who acted as Bouncer for the Third Rail was positioned by the entry way door as usual; actually, making use of the red rope that was strung deliberately between two bronze bars. His stern expression didn’t shift so much as a nuance as we approached but he did nod so as to acknowledge our existence.

“Eve. Nice to see you again.” He said, though from his tone, I had to wonder whether he did in fact find anything ‘nice’ in having seen me at all.

I held my hand up in a Hao like gesture, turning it in a swooping circle as though greeting a fellow tribesman.

“Hey there, Ham-Sandwich.”

It was enough to work a smile out of him; though it was a strained one that clearly lacked any sort of genuine amusement at my comment.

“You never get tired of that little joke, do you?”

I shrugged, shuffling a little awkwardly under the intensity of his gaze. Ham was one of those few people who managed to intimidate me for whatever reason. I think it was because he was so difficult to read and he wasn’t easily won over by niceness, conversation or a sense of humor; about the only three things I really had at my disposal. He didn’t seem the least interested in my boobs either, so I really was at a loss as to what a man like him might find agreeable.

“Well, to be fair, calling it a joke is a bit generous.” I murmured, squeaking in surprise as one of the bartenders I had seen earlier, salaciously passed a brimming wine glass over into my hand. She smiled at me before lifting an ice brimmed scotch glass from the tray in her own hand and passing it to Hancock. “Oh. Um… thankyou.”

“All good.” The bartender said, her eyes glazed in that suspicious way that made me think she was riding high on Jet at the time. If not something stronger. Before taking a sip of my drink, I reached around into my shoulder bag; searching for one of my cap satchels.

“How much do I owe you?”

“On the house. Enjoy.” She said, still wearing that slightly dazed smile as she turned and swished her way back towards the bar. I gibbered after her like an illiterate monkey; all but spilling my drink down myself in my haste to stop her. It didn’t help that Hancock hadn’t yet removed his hand from my shorts; which prohibited me from making any sort of decisive progress in pursuing her.

“No, wai- Lady! Lady, come back!”

“Babe _, I’m_ the house, remember?” Hancock muttered, giving a slight, impatient groan as his hand on my rump tightened. “I gave the guys here one of the bottles of wine that I purchased for _you_. She was just waiting for us to turn up.”

“Oh…” I remarked softly, turning back to my wine glass and lowering my nose to sniff the swelling contents. Sure enough, it had that same fruit like bouquet as the one he had shared with me upstairs and when I took a tentative sip, I recognized the flavour all too well. I groaned in near orgasmic ecstasy as the sweet, yummy nectar settled about my tongue; alighting sense receptors that had long since given up hope of having tasted something so good since the bombs had dropped and I’d gone on ice. “God… _damn_ that is some good _shit_!”

“You ain’t kidding.” Hancock murmured, chuckling at my reaction before lowering his lips to my ear and whispering so that only I was able to hear. _“I remember what it got me this afternoon.”_

My eyes widened and I flushed entirely out of my own control as I smacked my hand to the back of his chest; causing him to straighten back up with a not at all abashed chuckle. I cleared my throat, having nearly choked on the wine I’d been in the midst of swallowing before making a point of ignoring him and gesturing about the bar.

“I like this addition.” I said, turning and grinning up at Hancock with what I’m sure was a cheeky expression. “The bar for folks who can’t hold on long enough to get down the stairs.”

Ham stared out into some far distant void expressionlessly. “Yeah. It’s been great. Now, they can vomit upstairs as well as downstairs.” He blinked once; slowly. The only shift I had seen so far in his face. “It’s a dream.”

Hancock sighed impatiently and gave him a long, slightly impatient look. “Last I checked Ham, you weren’t the one cleaning the floor, eh?”

Ham sniffed haughtily. “No. But I still got the pleasure of gettin’ ta smell it and see it.” The apex of his nasal cavity wrinkled up in distaste. “And occasionally _step_ in it.”

“Well _don’t_ step in it, then.” Hancock drawled, as though the solution was ever so obvious. “Easy solution, bub.”

“You’d be surprised how _not_ easy that can be.” Ham grumbled, but, not seeming to have any interest in arguing, reached down to snap the red rope free from the bronze bar to which it was affixed. He gestured with his free hand towards the stairs. “Anyway. Gotta table on hold for ya, boss. Had to scruff a few asses out of it a coupla times but should be good to go.”

Hancock gave a cheery little salute with his glass of scotch. “Cheers, brother. We’ll head on down. You just keep radiating that sunny disposition, huh?”

Ham nodded seriously and again, I couldn’t figure out if he actually took note of Hancock’s sarcasm or this was his genuine response. “That’s what I do.”

With a slight eye roll in my direction, Hancock slid his hand out from the back of my shorts and extended his arm; so that I might traverse the stairs in my high heels without risk of falling ass over tit. Pattie stumped along behind us, emitting the occasional bored sounding huff or yawn that suggested he would much rather be anywhere else then shepherding our old dreary asses around. I did kind of feel bad for the kid, actually. Guard duty mustn’t be any fun. I suppose in the past it had fallen to Fahrenheit and I had a swift, passing thought that it was actually a relief that she had been… temporarily relieved of her duties. Having her around, grumbling and muttering obscenities and put downs every two seconds wasn’t exactly conducive to maintaining a relaxing atmosphere. Pattie might have been bored but at least he wasn’t intent on making me feel lesser about myself. Something Fahrenheit couldn’t seem to help; regardless of her supposed softening to me in the past twenty-four hours.

Hancock interrupted my thoughts as we passed over the first landing, leaning in so tightly to my ear that I could feel the curl of his lips against my bare lobe.

“So… about those toys with the woodland animals attached to them-”

I groaned, long and agonizing before bringing my wine glass back up sharply to my lips. I imbibed a very generous gulp before replying. “Oh Jesus. How’d I know that wouldn’t be the end of the conversation?”

Hancock just grinned some more, sipping from his own glass as we proceeded to traverse the remaining stairwell into the bar proper. I could hear voices, rather than music, drifting up from the left-hand side. “Were they anything like the ‘toys’ they were selling at the Cavellian Club?”

“Pretty much the same.” I confirmed, sipping from my glass once more and unsurprised to not feel the flush upon my cheeks at this discussion. I’d always been open and comfortable with sexuality; even that which you indulged in by yourself. Perhaps even more so… It often wrought me greater results. “Only we had a lot more variety back in the day.”

Hancock’s smile broadened; his eyes boring into the side of my face with genuine interest. I could tell that the notion of my having… indulged in any of these solitary activities was a massive turn on for him. “Do share.” He invited, his voice dropping down to a sensual crawl that actually sent my hand involuntarily swinging about to smack the wall of his chest. He was going to be covered in _all_ sorts of bruises tomorrow and _not_ from the manner of activity he would have much preferred for them to have been bestowed by!

“I’ve shared enough, thanks! Don’t you think it’s sort of embarrassing for me to talk about how I used to have sex with myself?”

Hancock snorted, tilting his head back to sip from his glass again before replying. “Please. Like _you’re_ the only person in this place that’s ever done that.” He chuckled broadly, holding his arm out to the side and tilting is cheek down towards his shoulder. “I lost track of the times I had sex with myself while I was running around the Commonwealth with you.”

I laughed as I leaned in closer to press against his own shoulder; playing it up, rather than acting disgusted with it. Once again, I had no concerns in regards to a person pleasuring themselves. Regular orgasms were a perfect means by which to keep your serotonin levels up and maintain positive mental and physical health. And when it came to men, I couldn’t pretend to be surprised by any of them fiddling about with themselves during our long trek about the Wasteland. And given what I now knew about Hancock’s near year of abstinence; how could I judge him in the least?

“Were you a thoughtful and considerate lover?”

Hancock pulled a face; as though reflecting on someone else’s behaviour towards him, rather than his own. “Actually, I could be a little rough with myself sometimes.” He flashed me a look of unadulterated shock. “And kind of kinky.”

I laughed. “Oh really?”

“Yeah.” He murmured, lowering his voice into a consoling whisper and leaning in closer. “Every once in a while, I’d have too much to drink and tie myself to the bed and tickle my own ass with a feather duster.”

I gasped, clutching my fingertips to my lips in shock. “Holy shit… when did you find a _bed_ out in the Wasteland?”

“Please. A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.” Hancock replied haughtily, sipping from his drink before then joining me in my laughter. After our titters had finally tapered off, he flashed another very familiar looking sneaky smile before then dipping his head down to trail his lips close to my ear. “So, what did your old man think about it?” And, because I must have looked confused. “The sex toy thing?”

So, we were having this conversation, were we? And in such a casual tone, nonetheless. I decided it best just to roll with it and shrugged differentially as I took another slurp from my wine. “He didn’t really… go much on them. We didn’t use them together or anything. It was just for… you know… when he was away.”

Hancock was staring at me in such a way that it made me think that he was of the impression that I was being… duplicitous in my singular attentions to myself. I furrowed my brows at him, feeling an overwhelming compulsion to defend myself. Hancock’s disapproval, regardless of how meagre, always brought this out in me.

“He was away for months at a time!” I protested, lowering my voice a little as we reached the final few stairs leading down into the, also beautifully refurbished, Third Rail. “It was that or… boink the teenager who was delivering pamphlets.” I sipped my wine again before turning my head off to the side dramatically; monologuing purely for comedy’s sake. “That hot pamphlet delivering pubescent. You knew what you were doing to me with those little shorts and mid shin compression socks. Don’t _think_ I wasn’t onto you.”

Hancock chuckled, reaching over with the hand clutching his scotch glass and tapping it to the backs of my fingers. “You would have probably made that kids life if you went and jumped on him one day.”

“Oh yes.” I said, with a roll of my eyes. “Because every young man _dreams_ of being accosted by some fat, horny housewife. He probably would have pelted me to death with his pamphlets.” I smirked, taking another sip from my wine and feeling the slightest hint of shame to see that I was nearly halfway through my glass already. Jesus Christ, we’d only just walked down the fucking stairwell! Looks like I was going to be a hell of an easy lay, tonight. With such thoughts in mind, I decided to tease Hancock a little and leaned up close, pressing my lips to the lobe of his ear. I lowered my voice; hoping it in some way resembled the breathy, sexy susurrations that he so often directed towards me. “I’ll tell you a secret though lover; you got no _idea_ how close I came to buying one of those toys from the Cavellian Club.”

It had been quite true. So long had it been since I’d actually experienced an orgasm (if you didn’t count the one I’m reasonably sure I had in my dream of Hancock and I fucking each other) that I was, safe to say, _more_ than a little tempted. The only thing that stopped me, was, believe it or not; that I couldn’t figure out a place where I would have used a vibrator without any of the others hearing me. I mean, I could barely go into the showers without Cait feeling the need to pop along with me and it wasn’t as though I could just go traipsing off into what existed of the surrounding woodland alone to flick the old bean. Seemed like it would have been a perfectly good waste of caps at the time… But the temptation had been strong. I was a dab hand at getting the job done myself; provided I had the proper tools, of course. But a suitable setting is paramount to reaching that peak point of pleasure and given the environment I was in… what was the point, really?

Being the sensually stirred individual that he was, Hancock naturally couldn’t help but look intrigued at this prospect. His smirking lips slowly caressed the side of my neck; trailing up before his teeth snagged a light and gentle hold of my lobe. He chuckled, pecked a kiss here and then slid his tongue sensually along the ridge.

“Ya should have done.” He whispered, as every layer of skin entwining my body tingled from his touch. His breath wavered hotly down into my ear and I quavered at the even more opulent nuance his voice dipped to. “ _We could have had us a real good time with that._ ”

Now it was my turn to look intrigued and I twisted my head towards him; bringing his lips away from my ear in the process. Our faces were very close now and we needed to halt our descent or risk tumbling stupidly over our own feet and onto the concrete floor below.

“What? You’d actually be okay with me bringing it into the bed with us?” I questioned, finding it wasn’t an idea that put me off entirely. Admittedly, there had been times during my marriage that Nate hadn’t succeeded in spurring me on to climax and it had left me aching and annoyed; wishing so desperately to reach into one of those side drawers and fish out one of those few little toys I kept discretely tucked out of sight but never far from mind. Something I _knew_ would always help me get to where I needed to be.

But Nate had never been open to the idea. He was a proud man, for one. And didn’t much like the idea that he wasn’t able to get me to orgasm through his own hard work, alone. He didn’t seem to understand that for me… it had always been difficult. I had a high pleasure threshold and sometimes, it was simply that constant, hard vibration that was required to tilt me over into climax point. It wasn’t a failing on his point, so much as it was a restriction of my own body. A very annoying one, at that.

Hancock tilted his head at me congenially. “Okay with it?” He smirked as he leaned in once more, his voice hushing to its lowest, softest whisper yet. “Watching a woman give herself pleasure is one of the hottest things there is.” His tongue licked my earlobe ever so lightly before pinning it between his front teeth and twiddling it back and forth. Just the slightest ease of friction to produce such… dramatic results. And inspire more than a few thoughts of what the evening ahead might offer. “I _fucking love it._ ”

Now I was certain it would be a miracle should a drop of my makeup survive; my face flushing so deeply at his words that I was all but required to stuff my face into my wine to cool it off. It did nothing for my body; heated already from the night air and now even more enflamed from his words and actions alone. It took me a moment to compose myself; not at all helped by Hancock’s lips planting cocky little kisses to the side of my neck. When I finally managed to resurface from my glass, I took in a deeply required breath and then turned, laying a loving smack to the side of his cheeky little face. It stirred me up; to see how his smile didn’t waver in the least. That he knew what my little physical admonishments meant. That he had gotten to me and furthermore; that I had enjoyed it.

“Shit.” I murmured, coughing and clearing my throat. “Let’s just see how these drinks go first, eh?”

Hancock laughed simply to see me so flustered by his actions. “Sure.” He said, winking as he started steering me once more down into the bar area proper. With his attentions distracted from me for the time being, I was finally able to give the interior of the once grungy ‘hole in the wall’ the due respect its newly updated interior deserved.

Much like upstairs (and most other areas in Goodneighbor, aside) the room was tidier; the floors swept, the walls repaired, painted and draped with paintings, pictures and whatnot. The tables had either been scrubbed of excess muck and dirt or were brand new entirely; arranged with small place settings; such as you might have seen in any bar proper back in my day. A small, folded paper menu that I suppose advertised drinks, meals and light bar snacks. Small candles flickered from the center of each table and the room was additionally lit by stringed lights that hung in swooping semi-circles from the ceiling. The bar itself also looked very different; it was clean and tidy for one, with the majority of the clutter segregated away into proper order. (Something the OCD in me was _insanely_ relieved about).

Drinks were displayed on several shelves in the background; that were further backlit to form an effect not unlike some sort of… historical fancy bar from my own time. Even Chuck, the cantankerous, cockney belching, bowler hat wearing Butler Bot who manned the bar looked tidier than he had ever done. His chassis was practically glowing; though I’m certain it would have taken a great deal more to have donned a shine to his irreverent and edgy personality.

The VIP room, located off to the far right of the main floor, was now in possession of an actual door and had loomed above it a proper neon sign; which flashed the letters V-I-P in succession, before then blaring them in their brazen entirety every couple of seconds or so. The stage where Magnolia used to perform had been expanded and now graced most of the left-hand side of the room; raised up on wooden legs and loomed from behind with red cloth; just to further enhance that cosy, seductive look the whole place was going for. On the stage, itself; there was situated a small piano (perhaps the very one Hancock had thrown up in, previously?) and other various musical instruments. Just begging to be picked up and played. (By, you know, people who were actually talented enough to play musical instruments).

I was surprised to see that it was Deacon of all people currently occupying the stage, wearing a familiar long black coat and hat that I struggled to attribute the significance of. He had a microphone in hand and seemed to be in the midst of entertaining the crowd with a torrent of jokes; not unlike so many of those nights out in the Wastes where he seemed to make it his personal mission to keep the lot of us amused. I smiled as I leaned back in and nudged Hancock’s side with my elbow.

“I’m surprised you didn’t just secret me away to the VIP room, Mr Mayor.”

Hancock laughed as he smiled down at me. “Oh, that’s still to come. Just wanted a chance to show you off first, is all.”

Damn, the smug, charming bastard and his ability to make me blush at every damn turn. “Ah, I see there is method to the madness.” In an effort to bring myself back towards some semblance of control, I turned my attention to the stage and gestured to it with my rapidly depleting wine glass. “Is that… Deacon up there?”

Hancock followed the line of my glass and gave a grunt of acknowledgement. “Yeah. Because Mags’s performing at the fete tomorrow and been in rehearsals all day, we tend to do a sort of ‘Open mike night’ instead of her singing. Gives her a chance to rest up.”

I nodded, seeing the practicality in this. “Makes sense. I’m just surprised that Deacon’s putting himself out there like that.” I leaned in close, lowering my voice so as to keep the following information secreted even from Pattie; shadowing us so closely, it made me ever more self-conscious about accidentally passing wind at an inopportune moment. “I mean, he’s funny and all but… the _spy_ thing, you know? It’s not exactly incognito being up there in front of an audience.”

Hancock’s eyes narrowed slightly; but only to form that warm, comforting expression of his. He bumped his shoulder against mine; ever so lightly.

“I wouldn’t worry.” He grinned as he used his own glass to gesture at the stage now. “As he can see, he’s come disguised as the Silver Shroud.” He lowered his voice to a dramatic, stage whisper. “No one will suspect a thing!”

My mouth dropped open as Hancock’s words flung open the mental block that had been thrown up firmly within my mind. “Hey! That’s _my_ outfit!” I bumbled about with my meaning for a moment. “I mean… the one I wore when I was pretending to be the Silver Shroud! I thought I’d left that back at Spectacle Island!”

“Looks like Deacon managed to smuggle it out.” Hancock chortled, ducking his head to press his lips briefly against my temple. Consolingly, even. “Looked better on you, babe.”

“Gee thanks.” I said with a scoff, still not at all recovered from my brief stint in town as Kent Connolly’s hero ‘The Silver Shroud’. I’d really gone balls to the wall and given it my all with that little vendetta… one fellow dork wishing simply to help another. The Neighborhood Watch STILL made fun of me about it, so I’m not so sure how worth it the kick to the crotch of my self-esteem had been. “I’m still surprised that he’d risk putting himself at the center of attention like this. Figured he’d worry about folks identifying him.”

Hancock nodded, brows furrowed in what I took to be agreement on his part. “That’s what I thought. But I spoke to him this afternoon down here when I was organizing our drinks for the night. Guy was real down in the dumps.” He turned back towards me, eyes widening slightly. “He uh, mentioned that you mighta walked in on him and… the reporter…. doin’ the dirty?”

I groaned; though was honestly kind of relieved that Deacon had given up the ghost himself. Now I didn’t have to worry about blurting it out during a drunken moment. “Jesus, I’d almost forgotten about that; what with everything else going on.” I swirled a sip of wine about my mouth, enjoying the supple dry flavor of it before continuing. Guess there was little point in shielding what I knew _now._ “Apparently they’ve been together a few times. It all sorta happened after you and I were off… doing our own thing.”

“Then there was Cait and MacCready…” Hancock mused thoughtfully, off in his own little world for a moment before returning to our own with a soft chuckle. “Jesus.”

“What?”

He turned to me; the blue and red lights of the Rail casting the scars of his face into bizarrely sculptured and rather eerie looking shadows. “You realize that nearly everyone was getting laid during our travels _except_ for you and me?” He tilted his head back, offering up a humble laugh towards the ceiling. “And here _I_ was poking fun at the boys all the time for not being able to land a woman. Guess I’ll have to go and eat my hat.”

I smiled and pressed my cheek into his shoulder. “Or at least a good serving of humble pie.” I rubbed my palm to his bicep encouragingly; nothing the softness of the shirt as I did so. Wow… he’d _really_ gone to town for this date. “Besides, there’s nothing for us to feel ashamed about. We were being adorable and falling in love. They were just being a bunch of dirty trash bags.”

Hancock huffed, twisting his nasal cavity skyward; glass poised by his chin in a hammed-up gesture of pious condemnation. “Shame on them.” He said, affecting a posh accent not dissimilar to Codsworth’s. He smiled and took a sip from his drink before cocking his head to the side; eyes fixed on the stage. “Still, it’s a little hard to cop to. Even Dogmeat got that weird little poodle thing knocked up in Covenant.”

My mouth dropped open at the slanderous statement. “Which I _still_ refuse to believe happened. Dogmeat’s my little virgin baby boy.”

Hancock laughed, his head swivelling towards me ironically. “I _saw_ your little virgin baby boy _drilling_ that little ball of fluff like it was goin’ out of fashion! And we both saw those puppies on the way back; they were like tiny, stumpy legged fluffy Dogmeat’s.”

I turned away and responded tartly. “Innocent until proven guilty, sir. And there’s _no_ evidence suggesting that that little white tart wasn’t slutting around with any other dog that came to town.”

“Victim blaming now, Munch?” Hancock responded, his laughter joining in now with Pattie’s. “Come on; where’s your female empathy?” He lifted a finger from the side of his glass and shook it towards me sternly. “And I _saw_ the fucking deed happen. What I didn’t see was Dogmeat puttin’ on a rubber first.”

I spun towards him with a loud, audacious gasp. “My god, he could have caught _any_ number of diseases from that fluffy assed whore!”

Hancock laughed as he reached down and petted his hand to the curve of my bottom. “Come on. Let’s park our asses and listen in.”

I smiled, reaching back to clutch his hand within my own; linking our fingers together so that he could lead me towards the one currently unoccupied table; which had a reserved sign perched upon it.

“Okay. But… move slowly.” I said, forebodingly. “I don’t want to risk Deacon seeing us and-”

And of course, Deacon naturally spotted us right away. He gesticulated grandly from the stage; hand extended and palm splayed so grandiosely you might have loomed him on some old timey movie poster.

“Well, well… who’s _this_ strolling in late?” He jeered, his smile so beautifully thrilled I couldn’t imagine it would be possible to replicate. I doubt even Hancock’s could have rivalled it in a few hours’ time.

I groaned as I smirked up over my shoulder at Hancock. “Damn. We’ve been had.”

He simply laughed as he brought me stoutly to the side of our table and held out a chair for me to sit down. “Just go with it.”

Deacon flashed his twin rows of perfect white teeth at us; the hand that wasn’t occupied with the microphone perched jauntily on the hip of my Silver Shroud outfit. I tried to be the best sport I was possible of being; smiling in a strained manner as I eased myself down into the seat that Hancock had distended for me. I knew all too well what Deacon was like in front of one person, let alone an audience and it didn’t bode well if he had zeroed in on the two of us. “If it ain’t the Mayor of Goodneighbor himself and Ms Evelyn Hallows! Welcome!” He laughed and raised his hand now to shake a finger; encouragingly, at us. “Don’t worry; you haven’t missed a thing! I was just killing time until _you_ got here!” He waved now towards the bar, making a big deal of calling out to Chuck. “Quick! What have you done with the red carpet, Chuck? Roll it out; the royal highnesses have finally arrived!” He then gestured urgently at the gathered patrons, who, judging from the delighted expressions on their faces, were immensely enjoying his performance. “Quick! Lay yourselves on the ground; they might need to get up and use the toilet at some stage. Has anyone seen the giant palm fronds?”

I nursed a chuckle, unable to keep it repressed as I squiggled about in my seat to make myself more comfortable. “Oh God, he’s in fine form tonight.”

Hancock smiled, sliding down into his own chair and sipping from his drink before scooting closer to tug his arm about my shoulders once more. “Guy needs a laugh. Just let him have his fun.”

It was a very diplomatic response from him; considering that John had more than once taken a very strong-arm approach to Deacon and his teasing but perhaps he empathized with the guys ‘unrequited feelings’ situated. Having nursed such feelings, himself for so long without reprisal. Whatever the case, it helped me relax a little and I set my wine glass on the table; smiling as I tossed the longer strands of hair back from my face and focused on the stage. Content now, to enjoy the show. Regardless of whatever ribbing Deacon chose to throw our way.

And throw he did, seeing the metaphorical white flag waved in his direction. He made a point of checking where he might have otherwise worn a watch; his expression twisted into one of utmost gravity and concern.

“Jesus… You were taking so long we had to let the pipe band go home! All the photographers had to leave; they got word of a major story developing in Diamond City. Apparently, McDonough did something _other_ than eat noodles and look like a boiled egg.” The crowd erupted and cheered their appreciation of this. Hancock himself put his drink down long enough to stick both pinkie fingers between his lips and whistle his approval. Deacon chuckled as he crossed the stage to sip from a drink he had resting on a small table nearby.

“Yessir. They had to rush right on out to get photos of _that._ ” He placed the beverage down; what looked to be a glass of red wine, of all things, before perching himself casually on a tall stool that had been positioned nearby. He peered out at the audience congenially, from beneath the brim of the silver shroud hat. He gauged us all with that shrewd expression I knew resided behind his perpetual pair of dark sunglasses. I’d have to ask Piper what color the man’s eyes were because he _surely_ hadn’t kept them on during rumpy-pumpy, had he?

After the laughter had died down, Deacon gestured with his free hand back towards the two of us. “Ah, seriously though folks; don’t they make a lovely couple?” We got a round of applause and many whistles of approval from mainly the male populace of the Third Rail. Hardly surprising given, well, that I highly doubted much of the female gathering was pleased by our pairing off. “Well… one half of them is lovely, the other half is just… lucky.” The crowd laughed their approval at this and clapped. Hancock could have looked offended but he laughed just as loud as anyone and raised his drink in a show of concession. “‘Bout time they finally got their act together. I had to watch that metaphorical train wreck waiting to happen for almost a _year_ now. You get to a saturation point where you wanna lean across the campfire and scream;” He emulated doing this very thing. “JUST FUCK EACH OTHER, ALREADY!!”

The crowd lost it at this, giving Deacon another opportunity to daintily sip from his drink. I was admittedly laughing just as hard now; in that way you can’t help but give in to. When someone makes fun of you in a way you know to just be entirely true. Given the amount of time Hancock and I spent flirting and skirting about the subject of being together, it made great sense that the others would have gotten well and truly fed up with it. Poor darlings. Hancock was laughing also but kind of preening at the same time. His arm kept a firm squeeze about my shoulders and though his eyes were on the stage, I truly felt as though… he _was_ proud of being with me. That he wanted everyone to take heed of Deacon’s words and acknowledge this… I don’t know, _victory_ in having finally landed me or something? Like a fisherman that had wrestled with a big, stubborn trout for some hours before wrestling it onshore and posing with a picture of it. And then cooking it up for dinner. I could kind of empathize with how that fishy might have felt. Though I didn’t feel exploited in the least. I wasn’t a raging beauty, so it was nice to feel that he was… proud. That he felt I was worth ‘displaying’, as such. I tried not to let it get to my head, so that the two of us weren’t matching in our self-satisfied little bubble of big-headed happiness.

When the patrons had finally ceased their tittering, Deacon deposited his drink back upon the small side table with an elegant twist of his wrist before bringing his hand back about and arching his index finger up towards the ceiling.

“Which brings me back to what I was just talking about before the Lord Sovereign decided to swan on in:” (Hancock responded with a skyward twist of his middle finger, at this.) “How many lucky bastards there are currently living in Goodneighbor.”

He let this sink in for a moment before continuing.

“I mean, before I made my point, I’d just like to make it emphatically clear that I am a one-hundred percent supporter of Ghouls getting busy.” He closed his eyes; paying due reverence to the statement and allowing for a few whoops to cross the room before rounding off his statement. “Having said that, I still find myself completely _baffled_ when I see how freakin’ successful they are at it in Goodneighbor! I mean, I can’t say I’m the best-looking guy around but I’d like to think I’m not the most hideous.” I stuck my fingers in my mouth and gave him a wolf-whistle of encouragement, which he pretended to hoik out of thin air and tuck into his trench coat pocket. “Cheers, Cherub. Anyhow, I’d like to think I’m single by choice. That I could, you know, meet someone and fall in love _when_ I’m ready to do so.” He paused and glanced about dramatically; such as I myself might have done when delivering a closing statement in a courtroom. Wish I’d held the attention of a jury quite so well as Deacon swayed a room of drunken revellers; but I digress. “Now… now I’m not so sure.”

He slid from the stool and crossed the stage; stretching out his arm.

“To further illustrate my point, please allow me to draw your attention to this couple sitting over by the bar.”

Naturally, this drew every patron’s gaze towards the bar; to where Meaghan and Meyer were propped up. I was relieved to see that they looked relaxed and at peace; even the more so to see them out and about such as Hancock and I were. Meaghan was still wearing her elaborately spangly purple dress and was drinking an elaborate blue colored cocktail, whilst Meyer naturally, slugged a beer back from the bottle. I thought they might resent being pointed out like this but both their smiles were matching in their patience and I could see they had no issue with being drawn into the pot for a good old-fashioned stirring.

“Meaghan and Meyer Scalice. Meaghan: Smart, glamorous, beautiful, sophisticated. And Meyer… present.” This roused a thunderous laugh from the room; especially from Meyer himself, who looked fit to fall off of his stool with how hard he was laughing. Thank god folks in Goodneighbor weren’t sensitive when it came to their vanity! “You know… breathing. Converted carbon monoxide to carbon dioxide.” He grinned as he swivelled about and sashayed back towards his stool. “Been together going on eleven years now… is that right? Eleven years?” Meaghan confirmed this, with a light ‘Yeah’. “ _Eleven_ years! Defying all expectations!” As Deacon perched one of his buttocks upon the stool, he jerked his hand almost violently in Meyer’s direction. “This man, somehow managed to convince _that_ woman to marry him! Which means that you _know_ she’s seen him completely naked probably almost every day for eleven years. That’s a _lot_ of Ghoul nudity.”

“Tell me about it.” Meaghan called out in a resigned tone of voice, which roused almost as big a laugh from the room as Deacon’s earlier remark had made. Meyer was now using his fedora to cover his face, whilst his shoulders shook with such profound laughter you could tell he hadn’t the least issue with his wife picking on him as such. I could feel Hancock’s body twitching with laughter against my own; clearly enjoying the show. I too, was feeling significantly light hearted and wondered just how big a drink I should buy Deacon to thank him for starting our evening on such a positive note.

As the crowds’ laughter diminished, Deacon, with a chuckle, gestured with his wine glass, towards a shadowed table in the back of the room.

“And back there, hiding away in the corner. We have the lovely crown Jewel of the Third Rail herself, Magnolia, perched up with none other than our resident DJ, Mr Kent Connolly.”

I imagine several folks might have wrenched their necks from turning so quickly to gawp at this spectacle. Magnolia, who was indeed sitting opposite Kent at what might have been one of the more discreet (and as such, intimate) tables, simply smiled and gave a little wave. Kent on the other hand, looked like he’d been caught with his hand down his trousers his gaze was so awkward. His eyes reefed from side to side, as though searching for an exit but Magnolia simply gave him an assuring little pet to the wrist that seemed to calm him almost instantaneously. Oh, how cute. I wondered if something might have been transpiring there and no more could I have been happier than I was when Mr Zwicky married Edna. I’d have to leach that information out of Hancock at a later time; when Deacon wasn’t in full command of the room.

“Now,” Established the man himself, lowering his head and drawing his glass laden hand out in front of himself in a typical gesture of discretion. “I’m not just going to call you out as being a couple; because that would likely make things awkward and uncomfortable if you weren’t. And we wouldn’t want that.” Naturally this evoked a laugh as well but Deacon cut it short, because I don’t think he was in the least interested in actually picking on people, like Kent, who weren’t accustomed to dealing with it. “But still, you know you’re sitting together and having a drink and being in one another’s company, so that pretty much still serves its purpose.” He gestured once more with is glass, after taking another quick, throat lubricating swing of it. “So, we have Magnolia. Also, beautiful, talented, sophisticated, sexy. Desired by men the Commonwealth over. And then we have, Kent.” The glass now drifted slightly to the right, to accommodate Kent. “Who is… very nice. And good at… pushing buttons.” Once more, the room erupted with laughter and several people applauded at this; myself included. It was all in good nature, of course. Despite how some of the towns folk might have tormented Kent; I had never heard a bad word against him. Some of the Neighborhood Watch seemed very defensive of him. He was a town institute, after all and Goodneighbor took care of its own, very well and had zero tolerance for bullying behavior. “Valued by the Memory Den for his valuable contributions; in keeping the Memory Loungers from accumulating dust.”

And clearly, because he didn’t want to embarrass poor Kent any more than he already had, Deacon turned to the two folks he knew, from practice, could handle his bullshit the best. I swear I could almost see his eyes sparkling from behind his tinted glasses as he swivelled purposefully on his stool towards Hancock and I. This drew a laugh simply from the evil smile that he directed at us.

“And last but not least…”

“Oh god, here we go.” I mumbled, glad to see that Chuck had finally succeeded in making his way over to our table. Seems like he’d had a bit of reprogramming for events such as this and was actually _waiting_ tables, as opposed to waiting for folks to swan on up to the bar. “I’m gonna need another drink.”

Hancock smirked and leaned over to whisper instructions to Charlie; words I did not hear, given that Deacon’s teasing nuance effectively drowned them out.

“Our very newest, most _favouritist_ Cutest Couple ever: Eve and Mayor Hancock.” He dipped his half empty red wine glass towards me. “Cherub; sweet, funny, cuddly, adorable. And Johnny Hancock; prone to fits of random murder.” More laughter; naturally. Town knew its mayor _way_ too well. “Often confused about where he is. Has been on top of more people than a brothel’s blanket and probably riddled with just as many STI’s.”

Hancock’s face was nearing the table; his drink abandoned in favor of pinching the apex of his nasal cavity between his fingers as he laughed fit to bust.

“Fucking hell.” He finally grunted, as Charlie hoovered away back towards the bar to fetch… whatever in God’s name Hancock felt I was in need of. Hopefully more wine. I wasn’t entirely up for mixing my drinks, tonight. Cumulative meeting of our desires or not; I wasn’t in the mood to get completely hammered and forfeit the following day and or Christmas party because I’d gotten maggoted the night before.

Deacon grinned, slightly sadistically; his wine glass clearly now directed towards me. “Sorry Cherub. Better to be prepared though, ya know what I’m saying?” He lifted his foot; resting his nicely shined shoe atop the knee of his opposing trouser leg. His gaze trailed up towards the ceiling. “So, I finally had to ask myself the question. “Deacon”, I said. ‘Yes?’ I replied.” There were some titters at this. “What is it that all these guys have that I lack? I mean, apart from major epidemical issues. Could it be that they simply have wonderful, stimulating personalities? Are well rounded individuals with loving hearts, fine conversational skills and romantic inclinations? Could it be that the radiation has gifted them with enormous, double headed penises?”

“It’s the last one.” Hancock called out, having just finished sipping once more from his drink. Once more, the room erupted and I gave a little clap of my hands; proud and delighted at his way of being able to command an audience with so little effort alone. It’s what made him such an inspiring individual and one of the things that drew me to him.

From across at the bar, Meyer’s fist thrust into the air and he called out in support: “Up here for double-penetration, brother!” A statement, which caused various intermingled noises of disgust, laughter and clapping. Meaghan immediately smacked him about the head for this comment, managing to balance her drink just enough to keep it from slopping. A tried and practiced trick of the married woman; one I recognized all too well. Done it to Nate enough times to have perfected the technique, myself.

Deacon, who was also laughing, had to wait for the reaction from these two interjections to die off before continuing with his bit.

“But _no_ , I realized. No, it’s _none_ of these things!” He pointed a finger from the side his glass and panned it about the room; his brows coming down to affect a serious expression. “Because women don’t care about love and romance and big dicks.”

“Shows what you know!” I called out, my mouth running way, way, WAY out in front of my mind. I thought I wouldn’t get a single laugh from this (my jokes rarely did) but the crowd seemed to like it just as much as they did Hancock’s earlier jibe and once more, Deacon was forced to wait patiently for the reaction to dwindle away before continuing. Hancock, in return, showed his appreciation by kissing me behind the ear. I suppose he figured that I had said such a thing because I believe that he himself had a big dick. Which… to be fair, wasn’t an incorrect assessment. Not that it was the defining feature of man… but it didn’t hurt, in the least.

“Well, apart from Cherub.” Deacon stated, giving me a sidelong look as though my character had been left wanting. This caused another titter from the crowd. “We’ll make her the exception to the rule.” He resumed his previously interrupted serious posture. “No. I realized that what every one of these guys has in common, apart from being a Ghoul, is that they have _uniforms!_ ” He pointed to Meyer and Kent in succession. “Neighborhood Watch uniform – which… why do you actually wear the matching uniform Kent? I never really understood that…”

“Because he’s Neighborhood Watch as well.” Hancock called out, because Kent continued to look as though he was trying to blend into the back of his chair and failing the more spectacularly by the minute. “Keeps an eye on things and reports crimes or worry spots over the radio. He’s just not in security rotation.”

“Oh, okay. Now it makes sense.” Deacon established, tilting his head back and nodding in acquiesce before pointing to both Kent and Meyer again; albeit briefly. “So, you got Neighborhood Watch uniform and over here,” his wine glass laden hand swivelled to Hancock now without any degree of censorship. “-you have revolutionary style uniform. Women. Love. Uniforms! My whole universe suddenly made sense again! Because uniforms equal a position of authority!” He paced the stage; the way a teenage boy, facing the same theoretical conundrum, might have paced his room in contemplation. “Typically associated with power, wealth, security, fascism and violence. Nothing is _hotter_ than a regime. Can you _imagine_ the number of hormonal women that must have fawned over the Nazi’s before everyone realized what a bunch of cunts they were?” He emulated a woman’s voice; crooning in hormonal admiration. “‘It’s a shame. They’d be so hot if it weren’t for the Jew killing thing… ruining it for everyone, aren’t they?’” The crowd reacted and applauded this as Deacon, clearly riding the waves of laughter towards some manner of climax, reached the center of the stage.

“Now, you might have noticed that I’m wearing the Silver Shroud costume tonight.” He took a moment to swivel from side to side; as though anyone could have failed to notice the outrageous, costume. “Now, it’s not because I want to take over from Eve’s job, it’s because I needed it to cover up what I’m wearing underneath. Because I know a few of you could see my bare legs and were worried I was going to flash you at some point. No, the truth is…” And here, he set down his drink ever so carefully and made a grand flourish of removing his scarf. “I’ve decided to get myself on the band wagon. So, this afternoon I took myself over to Scalice Boutique and Meaghan helped me pick out a uniform.”

And with all the spectacle and panache that a magician might show when whipping about a star-spangled table cloth from beneath a precariously towering pile of glasses, Deacon took the lapels of the trench coat into his hands and whipped the halves apart. He threw his arms back and down, allowing the coat to freefall down onto the floor and sending the room into thunderous applause, laughter and a chorus racket of wolf whistles and ‘whoops’ of appreciation.

The ‘uniform’ Deacon had chosen, was nothing less than a fully customised French maid’s outfit. Capping at approximately midthigh height, with white ruffles, a pinafore and lace embellishments. Beneath he wore matching white stockings with suspenders, terminating into his beautifully polished wingtips; a resultantly bizarre combination to be certain.

Deacon’s tiny, subtle smile was the only sign he gave to suggest that he was enjoying the attention he was receiving. But like the practiced comedian he was, he didn’t play into it but instead reacted as though nothing out of the ordinary was occurring; taking his time to daintily and carefully fold the trench coat into a compact square, placing it down on the floor and then flipping the fedora from the crown of his head and setting it to rest on top. He perched gracefully upon the stool; legs crossed at the ankle. He surveyed the room serenely, taking his sweet time to adjust the little pinny at his waist, smoothing out every wrinkle. By this stage, Hancock had just about fallen backwards in his chair; he was laughing so hard and I was snorting so much I sounded like pre-recorded Holotape of a rampant pig orgy.

Finally, after much of the laughter had dimmed down, Deacon extended a hand and dabbed it about the room as though to calm everyone.

“Okay, just… settle down ladies. At least wait until I finish the performance before you rush the stage.” This just naturally set everyone off again and he allowed himself a satisfied little chuckle as he reached into the pinafore’s front pocket and took out another ruffled piece of fabric with two small strings dangling from each end. “Oh, almost forgot. Need to pop this on my head to complete the look.” He tied the bonnet around his head, placing a tiny bow directly beneath his chin before resting his free hand daintily on his knee. He grinned about the room; plainly pleased as punch with his little joke. “Yeah. I’m gonna be armpit deep in the ladies before any of you can _blink_. Because _nothing_ says hot like a man cleaning your house for you. In a dress.”

“Fuck YES!” I yelled, a not at all un-genuine comment but one which sent the room to laughing again. Deacon flashed me a reproachful look from the stage; waving his finger in a ‘tut-tut’ sort of motion.

“Come on, Cherub. That’s very hurtful with Hancock sitting right there.” He said, gesturing towards Hancock, who couldn’t have looked any less concerned if he tried. “ _Fuming_ with jealousy.” He added, lightly hiking up the edge of his skirt and pointing down towards his upper thigh. “And that’s just because he _wishes_ he had leg hair like this.”

Hancock nodded, straight faced. “This is true.”

Deacon laughed as he carefully smoothed his skirt back out. “Well, while we wait for the uniform to take effect, I thought I’d just tell you all a little story. Something that happened whilst I was out travelling about with the pair of lovebirds over there.” He held a cautionary finger crooked towards the steel ceiling and the swooping, buzzing lights that spanned almost the entire length of it. “Now, this is a _true_ story and though I’m known for my embellishment of the truth ‘occasionally’, I can guarantee you that _nothing_ I am about to say has been exaggerated or fabricated. It’s my favourite out of all the crazy things that happened to us out there. And it’s called, ‘The Accidental Cannibal story.’ Which, ironically enough, is also going to be the name of my upcoming autobiography. Working title: “Accidental Cannibalism – A John Doe and friends story”.” He reached over to the little table and from beside his wine glass, picked up a small book that looked very familiar to me. He seemed completely oblivious for a few moments of the crowds’ reaction; folks emitting various noises of disgust and or confusion. Hancock and I got more than a few shifty looks, whilst I sat there; not entirely at odds with Deacon telling _this_ particular story but rather thinking he might have told one that was _slightly_ more tasteful. No pun intended.

As he picked up the book, Deacon pretended only now to notice the reaction filtering about the room and offered up a censorious frown.

“Hey, hey – why the judgment? I thought you guys were supposed to be all ‘cool with anything’. Didn’t I say it was ‘accidental’?” He paused in his flipping through the pages of the journal and affected a thoughtful posture; snapping his fingers as though trying to alight upon a suitable example for his statement. “It’s sort of like, you know, how Hancock ‘accidentally’ sleeps with your Mom.”

This won back the favor of the room immediately, with just about every face swivelling to take in Hancock’s reaction to this. He further exacerbated their response by keeping a perfectly straight face as he reached across to where Pattie was standing idly nearby; guarding the table. He looked up at the younger boy, plainly apologetic as he squeezed his wrist.

“It really _was_ an accident, Pattie.”

I laughed just as hard as the rest of the room, as Pattie, also maintaining a very sombre, straight faced pretext, simply nodded as though none of this was in the least news to him.

“That’s okay. That’s what Mom said about my birth, as well.”

“You know, that’s an interesting thought.” Deacon remarked from over at the stage, using the book now to point towards the Watchman; one brow quirking up towards his little maids’ bonnet. “How old are you again, Patrick?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Which makes you _how_ much older than him, Hancock?”

“Twenty years.” Hancock replied, to which Deacon responded by staring at the both of them and exclaiming a silent ‘Ooooh’ which the crowd replicated out loud. I played along just as much as the next; not concerned with the insinuation at least. I knew from conversations with both Hancock and Pattie that Patrick’s mother had died when he was only a kid himself and he had been raised by his birth father until he was in his teen years. Though there were enough years between them for Hancock to have ‘technically’ been his father, it was highly unlikely to have been the case. Hancock could not even recall having _met_ Pattie’s mother; who had been in her mid-thirties when she had passed away.

But who is to ever let truth get in the way of a good story? Or bit, in this case. Pattie and Hancock both played their parts; staring at one another in astonished wonderment; as though neither had ever considered such a possibility before. Pattie adjusted the tone of his voice; making it sound more innocent and childlike as he batted his big long eyelashes down at Hancock in apparent wonderment.

“Hancock… is this your way of trying to tell me that you’re my Daddy?” He stated, curling one hand up beneath his chin to really nail the naïve nature of his demeanour. Hancock looked down at his drink, sipped from it and finally shrugged differentially.

“… sure, why not.” He grunted, gesturing out towards Pattie with both hands, encouraging him forward. I laughed and clapped along with the rest of the crowd as Pattie toddled over, sliding his pistol back into his sheathe in favor of perching upon Hancock’s knee. They hugged dramatically, hamming it up for those of us watching before separating; Hancock patting the line of Pattie’s back like a father might with an ordinarily _much_ younger child.

“I gots a lot of questions, daddy.”

Hancock took another sip of his drink, glancing off to the side. “Shoot, son.”

Pattie’s tone changed immediately to that of a far more wicked one as he grinned and pointed up towards his beautiful features. “Why, if I’m so pretty, are you so fucking ugly?”

Most of the room laughed at this but I think some folks were genuinely afraid Hancock would take offense at the jibe and run a knife through Pattie for it. They clearly didn’t know him well enough if they didn’t realize he could laugh at his own expense; especially when it came to his looks.

Hancock turned, tilting his head and staring up pointedly into Pattie’s grinning face.

“Son, you are asking to be put over my knee and not in the fun way.” He stated smoothly, which roused a chorus of appreciative claps from about the room. Pattie’s smile only broadened and he made a point of bouncing up hard on high on Hancock’s knee; who grunted and winced from the pain it no doubt caused him. Mean boy was aware of Hancock’s injury and taking advantage of it. He also knew _me_ well enough by this stage to know that I was serious when I reached across to poke him in the arm; my expression no doubt as firm as I felt in my constitution.

 _‘Uh-uh’_ , I mouthed, waving a finger below the line of the table; just out of sight from where the rest of the room could see it. His smile relaxed from its earlier wicked edge and he gave a little nod; respecting what I had been discreet in not saying. He turned back to stare into Hancock’s face, who was trying not to show that the bouncing had temporarily taken it out of him.

“Okay. Well, were you and Mom madly in love when you made me?”

Hancock took the opportunity to get his own back in a big way; slapping his hand almost maliciously hard to Pattie’s upper thigh. “Well, how can I put this to you delicately, son? You see, your mother was what you call a ‘lady of the night’. You were approximately forty-one caps for the half hour.” He paused, glancing off to the side in deep consideration. “And let me tell you; you’re a _hell_ of a fucking refund.”

The room loved this and clapped and applauded their appreciation as Pattie’s head whipped about; faking a look of unparalleled shock and confusion. After playing it up for a moment, he turned now and directed his attention towards me. Oh joy; just what every insecure girl wants. To be dragged kicking and screaming into the spotlight.

“Are you going to be my new Mommy?” He asked, with that same childlike tone he had earlier adopted. I shrugged carelessly as I sipped once more from my quickly diminishing glass of wine. Jesus Chuck, hurry the fuck _up._

“Sure. Why the fuck not?”

Pattie waved his fists from side to side; emulating what very much a baby looked like when it was excited.

“Yay. Oh, and FYI,” He paused, leaning close so that I could see the firsthand morphing of his innocent smile into one of purely malicious intentions. “I’m still breastfeeding.”

I stared back at him smoothly; refusing to be swayed. Guys like Pattie typically got off on making gals like me uncomfortable and I was _not_ about to let him win. “Well, you are going to be a _very_ drunk baby because the only thing I’m capable of lactating is Sauvignon Blanc at this stage.”

“Even better.” Pattie said, which naturally got the room going again and he himself laughed as Hancock shoved him up off of his lap. I lay my hand to the curve of his bottom to nail home my lack of appreciation for his comment, which only made him cackle the more as he turned and repositioned himself beside us.

“God we’re in for a long night.” I muttered, thanking Chuck as he finally lit up beside our table and all but chucked a napkin in front of the two of us with reckless abandon. He placed another scotch and Nuka-cola down in front of Hancock before plonking down (rather indelicately) a steel wine holder; a bottle of Hancock’s white wine keeling sideways in it like a teetering old man trying to make his way up the hill from the bar.

“There. And don’t think I’m pourin’ it for ya.” Chuck grunted in his usual, thick cockney accent. “Ya might have gone and shacked up with the Mayor but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna be waitin’ on ya hand on foot. Got it?”

I smiled, expecting nothing less as I pulled my side bag up off of the floor and onto my lap; rustling inside for my caps as Hancock, chuckling, set to topping up my glass. Nice to see that even when quivering under his bosses’ inspection, Chuck’s behaviour towards me hadn’t changed in the least. Which was a relief; because the very idea that folks would start kissing my ass, simply because I was ‘shacked up’ with the mayor, was disingenuous to say the least.

“Hear you loud and clear, Charlie.” I stated, finding my cap bag and drawing apart the leather straps to reach inside. “You accepting tips for table service?”

He just snorted from somewhere deep inside of his chassis, already swivelling about to float away. “Keep it. It’d just be a longer journey back to the bosses’ pocket anyhow.”

“Thanks Chuck.” Hancock called, pushing my once more brimming glass back into my hand and sharing a conspiratorial grin with me as I turned back towards him. Chuck talked a hard line with me but I always think he was fond of me, in his own way.

“Maybe he’s just mad he’s lost one of his best customers.” Hancock murmured and I chuckled to myself as I took a sip from my glass.

“Well actually, it’s _you_ who’s lost one of your best customers really, darling.” I said, a little reminder to Hancock of the fact that he himself owned the Third Rail. “After all, what does a Mr Handy really do with his cut of the proceeds?”

Hancock just smiled, sipping from his own drink as he returned his attention to the stage, where Deacon had finally regained control of the room and after a bit of light banter, reminded us all the book and the story that it promised to offer us.

“Now, what was I saying? … Oh, that’s right: Cannibalism.” He stated; a comment that naturally grabbed the rooms interest so keenly as he flipped open the journal and started flicking through it. “Now, this book actually belongs to our friend and resident reporter Piper Wright, who has kindly allowed me to use it as a reference for this evening.” Having found the correct page, he adjusted his pose and looked out over the ‘audience’ with a keen and somehow serious gaze. “Now, this story never actually made it to print, because in Piper’s exact and most loquacious of words: _‘It grosses me the hell out’._ As a result, I’ve only got some dot points and that but I’m going to tell the story and use these as reference. So, without further ado, I present for your listening pleasure – The Accidental Cannibal. A John Doe story, by John Doe.”

“God, help us all.” Hancock grumbled and I laughed, leaning in to kiss his cheek and then resting into the fold of his arm as Deacon; book held up and out like a loquacious elementary school teacher, started to refer and embellish what had to have been one of the very strangest and most genuinely stomach-churning tale of our forays across the Wasteland.

**~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks everyone and hope you enjoyed for what it was! Next chapter is a bit of a divergence; split between Deacon and Eve’s point of view! Not sure if I’ll pull it off, but I’ll give it my best crack! Hopefully won’t be too long before I have it out to you all! 
> 
> And please, keep in mind to check my Tumblr for updates and the occasional screenshot. Also, if you are of the music enjoying variety, I have an album on Spotify called Collision Principle. Songs and music that either inspired me whilst writing or that made me think of the story itself when I heard them. Feel free to go and take a listen, if you like!
> 
> Until then, all my love as always:
> 
> ~MadamMortis~ xxx ooo


	18. Reawakening: Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We pulled tight to one another; chest to chest, hip to hip, thighs to thighs. We swayed with the music, aware of others drifting up to join us, of Meyer passing some remark to Hancock as he and Meaghan wavered away to the left of us somewhere. All of it kind of rose and fell; dimmed and faded. There was the music. There was Deacon’s voice and then there was us...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fallout 4 or any of the characters featured in the story. Except for the background OC’s that I created. Who are mine. But do not bring me any revenue. So much for that!  
> Also: I do not own the song 'That's life' by Frank Sinatra, Moonlight Sonata or Chopsticks. 
> 
> A/N: Hello again, my freaky darlings! I have made you wait a very long time but as per my agreement to myself, in order to take care of my family, my mental health and to continue enjoying rather than trudging through the writing of this story, I’m not restricting myself into time frames. I mean, I’ll still shoot for the month but given life restrictions, there are going to be times when things run over. I’ll do my best for you guys and hopefully, the quality will be better for the fact that I am happy, taking my time to really work things over and enjoy the process. 
> 
> I hope you have all been well and are looking forward to a very Merry Christmas. I was so hoping to be able to have the sexy chapter out to you guys but that is perhaps a treat that will have to wait until January. My birthday month, as it were so it will be my birthday gift to you guys! Hooray!
> 
> As for the following chapter, much of it is from a new characters POV. Deacon’s! He and the other characters refer to him as ‘Doe’ however, to preserve his Railroad identity as much as possible. So when you see people calling him Doe, remember that when the story actually occurred they were referring to him as Deacon.
> 
> So, WARNINGS for this chapter guys: Not a great deal, folks. Some suggestive stuff. Some… not really violence. Dirty language and insinuations. It’s actually one of the tamer chapters I’ve ever written. A bit of ‘eww’ stuff in there but I know you all can handle that!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy! I’ll see you on the other side if you make it that far! Tallyho!

 

> _“Nothing like a little judicious levity.” **~Robert Louis Stevenson~  
>   **_

** Deacon **

**_The Wasteland – Three Months, three weeks ago…_ **

It was a dark and stormy night, on that which, this most harrowing of tales takes place…

Well… no. It wasn’t. I’ve only just started out telling this story and already, I’m kicking it off with a lie. I’ve got a bad habit of that, I guess you can say. And I _did_ promise to try and tell the tale as truthfully as possible. Which is, to be honest for a change, kind of a novelty for me.

Anyway, so it _wasn’t_ a dark and stormy night. It was perfectly gray and average morning. 9:15am to be precise; if Piper’s notes are anything to go by. Girl is pretty up with the detail, so I can’t imagine I’m feeding you any baloney with this one. Besides, if memory serves me right it _must_ have been at least _after_ nine am because this was the time by which Eve and Hancock both seemed to best recover from being ever so rudely roused from their Chem and alcohol induced comas by Valentine. Our very own walking, talking, sleuthing alarm clock.

You see; our newly anointed lovers over here are _not_ what you would call, ‘morning people’s.’ It was always Codsworth up first (having powered down over night), then myself, Piper, MacCready, Eve, Cait and Hancock. (Nick didn’t sleep and rarely powered down, so he isn’t included in the list for obvious reasons).

Sometimes (because in my… uh, profession, I’ve often got to be an early riser) I was given the unenviable job of waking some of the others up. I tried to plead the fifth with having to rouse Hancock and more often than not Piper did a good enough job of sticking the sometimes metaphorical and often ‘physical’ boot into our favorite Ghoul mayors’ side.

Cherub could be just as bad, however. Charming though the lady is, she has a mean streak a mile long when she’s tired and she always seemed to be either exhausted and or nursing a nasty hangover first thing in the morning. I’d gotten a few offhand smacks from her before as she’d slung her arm indiscriminately all around her bedroll like a propeller blade loose from a Vertibirds wing socket and _boy_ did it leave a good bruise or two.

This, as I recall, had been one of those days. Cait, of all people, had managed to pry her pounding head out of bed before Hancock and Eve; who were ever so persistently digging into their bedrolls with the dedication of a Bloodbug hatchling on its first Brahmin carcass. Eve, I think was genuinely tired. Hancock, I’m certain, was taking advantage of the opportunity to be alone in the room with her; bundled up as usual in the neighboring bedroll. He _always_ slept beside her; nearly always on the right, for some reason. A few of us, (mainly myself, Cait and MacCready) had made a bit of a game out of moving his bedroll away from hers and placing our own around Eve, so that he wasn’t able to get in beside her of a night. Once, I’d gone so far as to climb up onto the roof of the place we were staying and set his bedroll up beside the chimney; as perfectly as if he might have just gone ahead and climbed into it. This resulted in _my_ bedroll being rolled back up into its travelling spiral and liberally hurled up into a tree; along with my pillow, blanket and teddy bear.

Such fun we had, us merry band.

I’d only been with the gang for three months by that stage but I was having myself a ball. The reason for Eve needing to travel about the Commonwealth in the first place wasn’t a happy one but I was kind of enjoying the social aspect of the situation; if I’m allowed to say that, Cherub? Sorry, I know most of this shit wasn’t easy on you. But we had more than a few good times, am I right?

This… _this_ was… not what I would call one of the better times. But a hell of a story, besides.

So, where was I? Oh yes, it was after nine. We know, because Eve and Hancock were finally up and sitting outside the least drafty and most restored building in some outlying, unoccupied area that we could find. We had a campfire going; because the weather was cool and damp at the time and we all had our woollies on. Hands were being rubbed together and blown into. Eve was wearing a woollen hat; an embellishment she was never entirely fond of because she thought, along with the thick layers of clothing the cold forced upon her; that she looked more butch than usual. Always the worrier about what other people think. Wasn’t putting Hancock off, to any extent. Every time she bent over to poke the ashes in the fire, his eyes lit up with more damn heat than the entire flame wreathed logs were throwing out. Seriously Cherub; how you never picked up on any of this, is beyond me. I suspect you might have been just playing the part of being stupid but hey, what do I know?

We’d been out on the open road for a while without a trader rocking up, so we were down to the very bare bones of our rations. What we did have, Codsworth was in the process of organizing; as Eve wasn’t exactly keen to cook first thing in the morning. Lunch and dinner; not an issue. Breakfast? Do _not_ even go there, girlfriend. And that would further suggest that we had something in our possession worth cooking. No fresh meat, no nothing. _They were the best of times, they were the worst of times…_

Dogmeat, having taking himself to an adjacent tree for his morning ‘constitutional’, sat nearby; head cocked and waiting patiently for us to get our butts into gear and move the show back onto the road. MacCready and Hancock (slightly more content for having ‘waked and baked’ just ten minutes earlier), were perched on the ground near the fire; both smoking whilst disassembling and cleaning the components of our assembled weapons. Cait sat nearby; not altogether ‘with it’ as her eyes gazed out blearily into nothingness; gloved hands clutched about a tin filled with some of the very last of our ever more precious coffee.

And where was I; your hapless hero, you might ask? Well, I was doing what duty every hero is socially obligated to perform and assisting where I saw assistance was required. Namely, by supporting Eve in putting on her makeup. (Because you KNOW the Wasteland makeup marauders were out in force!)

The act seemed kind of calming for Cherub though, so I figured it best to help rather than judge. I even got her to paint me up when she was done with her own face; something that not only seemed to properly rouse her but cheer her at the same time. It was kind of soothing actually; feeling her run the brush adorned with concealer over my cheeks and I sat there in front of our little makeshift credenza; chatting and then occasionally listening in on some of the discussions sprouting about us.

Piper, cigarette poised at the corner of her mouth, perched on a log with notepad and pen at the ready; staring intensely down at Hancock, who was doing a very good job of pretending _not_ to be overflowing with an immeasurable abundance of love for Eve. From the questions that Piper was hurling lavishly at the revolutionary self-styled politician of Goodneighbor, I could almost safely assume that the next issue of Publick Occurrences was due.

“So, what exactly is Goodneighbor’s long term sustainability plan?” Piper asked, pupils dilating with an intensity I’ve only ever seen replicated in a Jet Junkie hankering for their next hit. “Have you got any big ideas as to how to improve the town?”

Hancock, who I’m sure had taken umbrage with the very notion that anything in his charming locale ‘required’ improvement, was nonetheless being quite the good sport about his impromptu exclusive. Though, I should imagine it’s not difficult to play the good sport, when you’re riding high on a combination of Chark fumes, Mentats and whatever the hell else he’d fished out of his merry bag of tricks that morning.

“We’re thinking about putting in a bathhouse.” He promptly replied, cigarette bobbing between his lips in that very classy, sophisticated manner that upper stands Diamond City folks would find most appealing, I’m sure. If the Ghoulification wasn’t so off putting.

Piper’s nose and eyes crinkled together to form her famous hard-line expression of incredulity sprinkled with just the slightest dash of self-righteous condemnation.  

“A bathhouse?” She queried, clearly sceptical as to how this could, would or _should_ function in any way shape or form in the town of Goodneighbor.

But you see, I, being the ever so intuitive (and despairingly handsome) fellow that I am; was in possession of information that provided some clarity to Hancock’s ‘sudden’ stroke of inspiration. A ‘stroke’, mind you, that coincidentally coincided with a conversation yours truly was present at; where a young lady (who shall remain nameless – _Eve-)_ happened to mention how much she enjoyed swimming. And how much she _missed_ being able to swim because every large accumulated body of H20 to be found in the Commonwealth is highly irradiated and deemed unsafe for aquatic activities.

It was around the time of this, clearly unrelated discussion, that cogs got to turning in Hancock’s usually Chem curdled noggin and the idea of a bathhouse suddenly and inconceivably sprang to life! I’m sure it came from entirely selfless foundations as well and not from a deep-seated yearning to see the aforementioned young lady (cough _Eve_ cough) in a swimsuit.

It was hard not to smirk a little; having put the pieces together some time ago. It didn’t hurt that Hancock had only a week earlier confessed to both Cait and myself that he was in love with Eve. Or ‘loved her’, rather. I don’t know about any of you out there but I tend to see the two expressions as being rather distinct from the other; don’t you agree? Being ‘in love’ seems more that intensely passionate, often flighty and super charged state people experience when they first get together. To ‘love’ someone is a bit more… concrete. That’s an enduring emotion; the kind that perpetuates a long and happy marriage. You know; when you can fart on one other and not give a shit. Or at least, don’t _end_ the relationship over it.

Not that Hancock went into any of this with Diamond City’s favorite notarial institution. Especially not with the object of his, rather obvious affections, sitting within earshot. Instead, he slid his cigarette out from the corner of his mouth, tapped away some of the ash and said:

“Yeah, thought we’d clear out one of the warehouses there and install a bathhouse on the lower level. Heard they’ve got one in one of those super classy casinos in New Vegas, which they treat with salt for therapeutic purposes.” He smiled ever so slyly up at Piper and flashed a conspiratorial wink as he returned the cigarette to the corner of his mouth. “Make those schmucks in Diamond City insane jealous, don’t you reckon?”

“Not to judge,” Piper said, her tone of voice suggesting that she did in fact very much intend to do so. “But I think your aims for the town should probably be a little higher priority than simply making Diamond City jealous.”

“It’ll also give people a place to wear their swimsuits…” Hancock responded, using the most innocent tone of voice I suppose the Ghoul was capable of. MacCready snorted back a laugh; amused, I suppose, by the idea that people in Goodneighbor were in possession of swimsuits. It wasn’t as though there were any readily available bodies of water nearby to go swimming in and with a large Ghoul populace, I’m not sure how many of them would feel comfortable donning a set of Speedos’. Hancock maybe, but he’s a special case.

“Goodneighbour has a _housing_ crisis, not a lack of public pool crisis!” Piper exclaimed, taking out her own cigarette and tapping ash from the amber tip. Her left-hand brow had started to spasm as the vein beneath worked itself up to match her clearly irritated state. “I would assume you have goals towards expanding and providing further accommodation for some of the disenfranchised drifters am I right?”

Hancock gave a maidenly sigh as he took out… some random innard from the rifle he was cleaning and inserted what looked like a bristly black pipe cleaner into the center of it. “Well of course but I figured you’d wanna hear about the innovative stuff first.” He said as he drove the cleaner up and down before then twisting it around in circles. Hmm… might have been good sexual therapy; this sort of thing. “As for housing, we’re going to be constructing three level accommodation in the quarter for the drifters to make use of. And we have a five-year plan in place to expand Goodneighbor’s girth and reclaim some of the land behind it.” He took his cigarette back out, tapped ash off and then reinserted it. “There are a few buildings beyond the wall on the East side that could be of use to us; plus, it’ll allow us to finally construct individual accommodation so that folks are able to own their own home and have their own space. It’s marshalling the resources which proves to be a little tricky…”

Piper’s pen had become a blur, she was scribbling so fast to get all of this down. To be fair, it was likely the most serious information she had ever been able to extract from Hancock; he was famous for playing the ‘giddy goat’ whenever she had tried to pin him down from an exclusive in the past. Never answering anything seriously; just making quips and jokes and come on’s, to the point that Piper finally threw her metaphorical hands up in frustration and wrote her ‘Goodneighbor related’ articles based on what people in the township said. I _know,_ right? _Hearsay_ in modern journalism? Preposterous!

“Uh-huh…I see…” Piper drawled, her own cigarette bobbing against the swell of her lip as she spoke. Some ash snapped free of its own volition and splintered into fragments as it sank into the cool morning breeze. “Do you suppose perhaps that the difficulties you encounter with pulling enough able bodies together is in any part due to your relaxed rules around Chem usage?”

Hancock chuckled lightly, turning and lifting one of his brow ridges to form a sardonic looking expression. “What, you reckon all the workers are too high to work? Shoot, ain’t nothing like that.” He returned his gaze to the components of the disembowelled firearm, twisting that little brush all the more determinedly. Geez… build-up of tension there, buddy? “Gotta do a bit of hiring outside of Goodneighbour for reliable hands and a lot of folks aren’t comfortable spending that amount of time with us. Weird, huh?”

Piper shrugged, taking what remained of her cigarette and squishing it out on the stump beside her. “Well, it is true that Goodneighbour has a bit of a reputation.”

“A reputation for being the freeist, happiest, most bad ass town in the Commonwealth that no one should ever fuck with.” Hancock stated, town pride resonating from every little crease in his Ghoulified body. Eve gave a little ‘whoop’ of agreement, her eyes remaining focused on my face as she carefully worked to apply blush evenly to my cheeks. From the corner of my powdered eyes, I could see Hancock’s smile steer briefly in our direction before returning his attention to the gun he was cleaning. It was amusing to see such a strong-minded guy like Hancock swayed by a woman’s approval. Ah, _amore_. How you never cease to surprise!

“Freeist maybe.” Piper conceded, though she didn’t look the lease convinced. “I would contest that you’re the _happiest_ , however.”

Hancock sighed, turning and resting his elbow on his knee so that he could peer up at the reporter. “Oh, would you just? I suppose you think that those idiots at Covenant are a happier bunch with their big _fake_ smiles, their pretentious little white fences and their obnoxious “Pip-pip cheerio” routine.” He shook his head, bemused as he took the cigarette out to puff on it again. He drew on the last remaining bit of it before flicking the dying filter off into the fire. “I tell ya, we may do a lot of chems in Goodneighbour but we ain’t nearly as fucked in the head as that lot are. Place gives me the creeps.”

Piper tittered, her own eyes swaying off to the side. “Can’t argue with you on that one. What I meant is that there’s a lot of people in Goodneighbour that struggle with the overall consensus of libertinism that runs prevalent there.” She waved the tip of her pen about, like a teacher explaining something to a group of hormonally budding distracted pubescent children on a warm spring afternoon. “Libertinism is-”

“A lifestyle promoting lack of restraint and adherence to generally accepted cultural norms.” Hancock quoted, smiling smugly at the (much begrudged) impressed expression on Piper’s face. “You didn’t think I knew that one, did you?”

“Can’t say I would have guessed it, no.”

Hancock scoffed as he peered down the firearm… component with one squinted eye. Pinching the tip of his tongue between his teeth in an almost stereotype facsimile of concentration. “What, you think because I’m from Goodneighbour I’ve got the IQ of a special needs Mutfruit? I _did_ go to school you know.”

Piper raised her hands; still resolutely clutched about her pen and notepad. “Okay, okay _sorry_. No offense meant.” She kept her eyes firmly focused on Hancock, as though he were some dangerous animal with a mind to attack and tentatively brought the pen back to the top page of her journal. “So, what do you have to say about the amount of crime that does go on in Goodneighbor?”

Now, I thought _this_ of all things would spring Hancock’s hackles up but once more, he surprised me in effortlessly maintaining his cool. Maybe he didn’t want to look brutish in front of Eve? “I would say that crime goes on everywhere, everyday somewhere in the Commonwealth.” He responded; such a fair and reasonable statement you could hardly argue with the validity of it. Though I’m quite certain Piper would find a way. “We do our best to stamp it out when it comes to Goodneighbor but sometimes you don’t see the bruise in the fruit until it sits on the shelf for a bit.” He raised the firearm component to eye level and peered down it again. He bore such a strong resemblance to a pirate staring down a telescope it was all I could do but keep my painted face straight. “We don’t tolerate disrespect or hurting those that don’t deserve it in Goodneighbor and I like to send a pretty strong message in favour of that whenever I have the chance.”

As expected, Piper saw the loose thread in the tapestry Hancock had verbally woven and got to swift work tugging on it. “Do you worry sometimes that your ‘every man should live life on his own terms’ decree often makes for mixed messages in this regard?”

Eve huffed softly in the back of her throat and her painted lips hitched ever so slightly in the corners. Off of my enquiring look, she leaned a little closer and whispered: “Hancock and I pretty much had the same conversation a few weeks back. Think he’s sick of hearing about it.”

I smothered a chuckle behind my lips; trying to keep my face smooth and steady so that I didn’t go and mess up Eve’s work. I wasn’t surprised that Eve had had the balls to bring up some of the stuff she did with Hancock; he was likely to be more receptive with her anyway, given how deeply in wuv-wuv he was. Eve however, would have come at it from a no-doubt sensitive standpoint; primarily concerned with preserving others’ feelings. Hancock’s, mainly. Piper, though desiring change and wanting just as much to help others, could be that slightest bit blunter and to the point. She wasn’t in the habit of molly-coddling. The type who would, how you say, drive a nail in with sledgehammer? An approach that Hancock, laid back though proud on certain matters, wasn’t likely to appreciate.

Sure enough, his gaze lifted and pinned resolutely to the far distance; something I had started to recognize as his ‘trying to keep his temper’ face. After a moment spent, presumably doing just that, he got back into the business of reassembling the rifle; lined face stilled and calm once more.

“If some asshole gets ‘confused’ about the context, they certainly don’t stay confused for long.” He stated, turning now and giving Piper a look of mild reproach. “And are you _quite_ sure you’re not being just the tiniest bit discriminating in this article you’re writing?”

Piper, fearless as usual, stared back with an equal degree of intensity. “Well you gotta admit that Goodneighbor does enjoy a much more morally ambiguous lifestyle than any other known settlement in the Commonwealth.”

Eve chuckled again, lips pressed tightly together to keep the noise from coming out. She had her back to the ‘interrogation’ but I suppose she knew Hancock well enough to suspect that he was reaching the capping point of his frustration. Sure enough, he sighed and gently put down the parts he was working on; looking exhausted and worked over.

“Yeah, that’s what we are all right.” He stated, a very thick coating of sarcasm greased across his words. “Just a bunch of trouble making, pleasure focused jackanapes, frolicking in our little land of vice and sin. Shooting up every five seconds, holding massive town orgies every Tuesday and ripping each other’s clothes off without so much as a how-do-you-do.” He tilted his head back and waved his hands from side to side, pulling a sort of ‘off with the fairies’ expression that made MacCready snort with laughter. “I don’t even know why it was called ‘Goodneighbor’ when clearly the name _Gomorrah_ was much more fitting.” He concluded, bringing his hands down to rest on his knees and giving Piper a look that plainly stated that he did not appreciate the current line of questioning.

Piper glared back, lips pursed. She jabbed the pen out towards him; like a little bird pecking at the side of a tree and receiving just as much feedback for the effort.

“Now you’re just mocking me.”

“Sorry. I tend to get defensive when people try to compare me to the Marquis De Sade.” He flashed another smile and waved a finger lightly in her direction. “See? There’s another name I bet you didn’t think that I knew.”

Seeing that her interview was not at all going the way that she had hoped, Piper turned to her next port of call and yelled out to Cherub.

“Hey Blue! You spend a lotta time tooling around Goodneighbor. You know what I’m talking about, right?”

Eve laughed again as she fished a tube of mascara out from her amenities bag. “Personally, I’m a big fan of Partner Swap Wednesday’s.” She tilted her head quizzically to the side, hamming it up. “Gotta admit, it was a _little_ awkward when someone bought the Brahmin though. And don’t even _ask_ about the guy with the Mirelurk hatchling.”

“Hey, how was I supposed to know that wouldn’t be your thing?” MacCready called out and Piper finally cracked a smile as the rest of us gave in and laughed. Eve nearly poked my eye out with the tip of the mascara brush, her body having devolved into cement mixer appropriate convulsions and I jerked back before then reaching out to remove the potentially dangerous implement from her control. She could use her now freed hand to cup almost daintily about her lips; smothering the anything but dainty sounding snorts she was emitting.

After a minute spent enjoying the benefits of her wit, Eve sighed and she took the mascara back from my hand; indicating that I should close my eyes. She started brushing down the backs of my lashes, making outward flicking motions to provide fuller coverage. I suppose.

“In all seriousness Piper, John isn’t wrong.” She said and I’m sure we were all equally as overwhelmed with shock that Eve and Hancock’s opinions could ever run concurrent to one another’s. (Please take note of the heavy layer of sarcasm I have draped upon these words; just in case it wasn’t clear just how little we _were_ surprised). “You can’t swing a dead cat these days without hitting an asshole in the Commonwealth.”

“The image that inspires, Cherub.” I said chuckling as I felt the brush cross over to my other eye and start feathering down the length of my lashes there. Eve tittered lightly at my comment before rounding off her ‘statement’ to Piper.

“Besides… I _like_ Goodneighbor.” (Again, _no one_ is surprised). “The folks there have got a good sense of community and they don’t get off with pretending like they’re a cut above anyone else. There’s a real sense of… acceptance and tolerance there that you don’t get in other places. Open your eyes and look up, Doe.” She waited for me to do so and then held the brush just before my eyes. “Okay, blink down onto the brush. Anyway, it’s just a shame that there are some bad eggs that slip in and fuck things up for everyone else. Plus, my buddy Kent lives there. How could I ever judge a place that my loyal Rhett Reinhart calls home?”

I’m certain that Hancock’s beaming smile was effervescent by this stage; with nothing gaining his gratitude more than a positive appraisal of his humble domicile. “Munch, you’ve just earned yourself some major loyalty points. That’s an instant promotion to VIP status and a week’s supply of Jet.”

Eve gave a non-committing sort of grunt as she lined the brush up with my left eye and got me blinking down onto it. “Eh, you can keep the Jet, darl. I’ll take a foot rub, some Day Trippers and a weeks’ supply of wine instead.”

Though I was unable to bring her into my field of vision at that stage (difficult when one’s eyes are directed to the genital side of the native birdlife as it passed overhead) I could imagine with great, albeit often referenced clarity, the expression of doubt plastered upon Piper’s features.

“A _couple_ of bad eggs?” She repeated, adding emphasis to the word ‘couple’ so as to really nail home Eve’s downplaying of the towns inhabitants. “We’re talking about the raping and murdering kind of eggs here, Blue.”

The brush slid away from my eye and I followed its path as, guided by Eve’s hand, it curved about to point in Piper’s direction. Like a teacher singling out an errant child playing silly bastards in the back of the classroom.

“Hey, don’t forget that Goodneighbor is a refuge for people that have no place else to go.” Eve stated, using that ‘I’m serious about the point I’m trying to make here’ tone of voice that she most often trotted out after a few hundred drinks as a means to win an exchange she had suddenly grown intensely passionate about. Like how mock-turtlenecks were called mock-turtlenecks because they were a mockery of an _actual_ turtleneck; both of which made your neck too hot and collected makeup anyway. “Like when McDonough kicked all the ghouls out of Diamond city. Where do you think they could have gone after that? They were all frightened and disempowered.” She waved the brush lightly at Hancock now, who couldn’t have looked more contented than a cat with its fat face buried in a towering jug of cream. “John was the one who led a bunch of them to Goodneighbor and tried to help them. Don’t be so quick to judge.”

Rather than take offense at the meagre dressing down she had received, Piper’s expression instead turned to one of… smug amusement, would be the only appropriate way to describe it. “Well, I should have figured that you were likely to defend the place.” She stated, smirking as she tucked her pen behind her ear; tapping the notepad against the side of her knee. “No one ever gives you any grief there because you’re all ‘Buddy buddy’ with the Watchmen.”

Eve shrugged innocently as she turned back to inspect my eyes; using the tip of the mascara brush to further enhance one or two lashes that had somehow required improvement. “Hey, sometimes they like to talk to me about their relationship problems. Just because they’re gangsta doesn’t mean they don’t have _feelings_.”

“Nicely put, Munch.” Hancock concurred, angling his now contented expression towards Piper and snapping his fingers to draw her attention back to him. “Now, if you’re quite done running your mouth Treacle Beak, pass me your gun and I’ll check its condition for you. Before ya go and piss me off too much.”

“Yeah, yeah, I gotcha. Excuse me for simply _assuming_ that the people would love to hear the Mayors account of his own town.” Piper grumbled, reaching down into her hip holster and extracting the 10mm pistol she favoured above all other available firearms. She passed it over into Hancock’s waiting hand. “Do me a favour and don’t rig it to backfire on me, okay?”

“What and mess up that darling face of yours that everyone loves so much?” Hancock replied, offering up what I’m sure most would consider to be his most charming and persuasive smile. “Wouldn’t wanna give McDonough the satisfaction.”

“Thanks, that’s so noble of you.” Piper replied with a sarcastic sniff. Her eyes drifted over to focus on what Eve and I were doing and it was now, at long last, that she chose to pay some attention to it and cocked her head curiously. “Speaking of messing up your face, don’t you get tired of whacking that shit on every morning, Eve? It seems like such a bloody process.”

Now this was by no means a new line of questioning whence Eve was concerned and one she was surely accustomed to at this late stage of the game. You may have noticed yourselves, subtle as she is with her craft, that Eve enjoys the occasional lathering of war paint upon her person. I can recall the number of days that she has been forced to go without make up and they barely scratch the double digits. Keep in mind, that this is a woman that I have seen almost every single day for nearly an entire YEAR.

Most of us simply assume that it’s a pre-war thing. Not that Eve has any reason to be self-conscious. I mean, it’s not like she’s over two-hundred years old or anything. Hey, you know how much bad luck spilling salt is, Cherub. Don’t even wanna think about how much you’ll accumulate you hurl that shaker across the room.

Anyhow; it was a point that Piper liked to make frequently and audibly. Not that she was what you would call ‘anti-makeup’ but she was definitely of the opinion that Eve’s dedication to styling her face bordered on the militant. And I quite agree that the woman would run from a Rocket launcher wielding super mutant whilst painting her lipstick on, rather than stow the tube and do it at a later date. Don’t look at me like that Cherub, you know that’s not really a gross exaggeration!

Being such a frequent recipient of Piper’s social commentary, I kind of expected that Eve would have gotten crabby at this remark but she simply smiled in that loose, dozy Brahmin like way we’ve all come to know and appreciate as she brushed some light powder beneath my brows.

“I find it kinda meditative, actually. Besides, I’ve always loved makeup – ever since I was stealing it from my Mom as a little girl.” She said, tilting her head from side to side to examine her handiwork. She placed the tips of her fingers delicately to my many times worked upon cheekbones and used this place holder to adjust the angle of my chin. “I just like the way it looks on my face. Gives everything a bit of pop, you know?”

“Yeah but you don’t need any of it.” Piper insisted, removing herself from Hancock’s immediate presence (he didn’t even attempt to conceal the look of relief washing over his craggy face) and perched herself at Cait’s side by the fire. She helped herself to some of the remaining coffee from the tin that Codsworth had prepared earlier. “A special occasion I can understand, but every day?” She took a sip from the tin mug she had poured the coffee into and flinched. The brew was especially strong and this coming from a guy who takes his coffee black and sugar free. When she had recovered from the gustatory assault, she added: “Besides, isn’t it just to make yourself look better for men? You don’t need to subjugate yourself like that, Blue.”

Eve turned from me, one of her thin brows arching independently of the other; a trick I’d love to perfect myself. It forms the expression into kinda like a visual question mark. In this case, it sent a very clear message as to how Eve had taken Piper’s words and it was not favourably. For the first time, she actually looked a little offended.

“ _Actually_ , it’s got nothing to do with _men_ or even with poor self-esteem. To reiterate my previously established point; I just like the way makeup _looks_.” She passed the palm of her hand in front of her face; emulating a scrubbing like motion. “I like the process of applying it in the morning, it relaxes me. Makes me feel like… you know… I’ve started the day off properly. Besides, I’ve got such blonde eyelashes, how will anyone see how long they are unless I darken them?”

“But that’s just the point. You don’t have to worry abou-”

It was Hancock to the rescue this time (any chance to play the white knight, am I right?) cutting Piper off by extending a finger curtly in her direction, not even taking his eyes off of the gun he was in the process of disassembling.

“Give the kid a break, Ink slinger.” He said and I noticed that his voice had dropped to that deeper, throaty timbre he usually adopted when meeting folks for the first time. His ‘I’m a good guy but you will take me seriously’ voice. “This ain’t a debate you need to win, it’s her _choice_.”

Piper snorted disdainfully, narrowing her eyes in his direction. God, you can see that this was one girl who would have given her parents absolute _hell_ as a teenager. _You don’t tell me who I can go out with. Down with authority!_

“Well of course as a male you would think that.”

Hancock groaned long and low; his patience clearly reaching its breaking point. “It doesn’t _matter_ what I think or what _you_ think, for that matter. But yes, I do think makeup can look good when it’s done right. Kind of makes it look like a girl cares about herself. Whatever the case, it ain’t hurtin’ anyone.”

“Yeah Piper, ya don’t need ta be on her case about it all the time.” Cait stated, blunt as the bat she most often favoured when caving in her opponents’ heads in the ring. It looked like she’d finally woken up enough to contribute to the conversation; though her bloodshot eyes suggested it would be some time until she was entirely back in the boat with us. “I ain’t much into makeup but I don’t give a shit if other gals wanna wear it. And so what if someone wants to wear it to look hot for a bloke? To each their own, I say.”

Piper looked as though she were fully prepared to continue the debate about this but made the decision to come at it from a different angle. “Hey, I get that. I’m not trying to be a raging feminist about this or anything.” (Hancock and MacCready exchanged entirely unconvinced glances at this juncture.) “All I was _trying_ to say is that I think Eve looks pretty _regardless_ of whether she wears makeup or not. I just… hope that you know that, Blue.”

Eve beamed her warm smile back at Piper; pleased and receptive as ever to a well-timed compliment. Yeah, this gal had _no_ issues with self-confidence _whatsoever._

“Well thanks, darling. That’s very nice of you.” She chuckled as she used an eyeliner pencil to darken the line of my lower lids. “Not so sure I believe it but it’s nice that you think so.”

“She ain’t wrong, Munch.” Hancock stated, his concurrence on the subject making Eve’s eyes wander off the side and her smile lift just that slightest bit higher to form rosy bunches of her cheeks. Aww… the first initial stirrings of love; ain’t it something? “ _You_ however-” A directive that plainly cast my role in the entire affair into the light at long last. “ – what the hell makes you think _you_ need to get tarted up?”

“Yeah, you’re a man for fu- goodness sake.” MacCready contributed, his face conveying the deepest most profound sense of homophobic and backward thinking condemnation you could possibly imagine. He looked like… you know, one of those dried Mutfruit people that some of those crafty folks used to carve back in the day. All puckered up with his little disapproving cats’ ass of a mouth.

But of course, I, being the confident and progressive gentleman that I am, did not lash out defensively in response to this stone-age thinking. No. It is in such trying times as ours that I remind myself that what the world needs is not more violence but understanding, acceptance and education. And when and only when a person refuses to be educated do you drive the proverbial boot up their backside. As such, I took it upon myself to enlighten these two paragons of brimming testosterone charged masculinity.

“My friends; you are missing out.” Said I, turning and gazing out from beneath thick and beautifully embellished eyelashes. “These are modern times and are we not modern people? Makeup is not simply reserved for those individuals whom possess more estrogen than testosterone. It is an art form available for one and all to enjoy.” I admired my face in the small vanity mirror Eve had propped up with a few wooden beams that had once enjoyed a position as a fence post. “It’s one of the things I miss from the time I posed as a woman. It’s kinda like… colouring in your face. Does this shade look good on me?” I enquired, turning and puckering my painted lips in Eve’s direction. She paused and cocked her head; examining me with genuine interest. I had picked the lipstick myself from the collection she had and wasn’t entirely convinced that the lighter color was working with the rest of my face; now that I had seen the tapestry come together.

“A little bit too much orange for your natural skin tone, I think.” Eve eventually concluded, reaching into her vanity pack and taking out a little pot of wet wipes. She used one to gingerly sponge the lipstick from my mouth. (You just _know_ Hancock was starting to see the merits of putting on makeup by this stage.) “Try this one, it has a little bit more blue in it. Bit of a cooler colour.” She picked out a tube of dark red lipstick from her modest collection, twisted the nearly full length of it out and then started to carefully apply it to my slackened lips. I could almost feel the jealous fumes wafting over from where Hancock was sitting; curdling in his own bitter resentment.

“You look fucking ridiculous.” He said snottily. A poor man’s means of coping with his feelings; by taking them out on an entirely innocent, undeserving party. But I guess that’s typical of how us men deal with seeing the woman we fancy lavish undue attention to another individual in possession of a penis.

“Bitches be jealous.” I responded, turning my eyes in their sockets towards him and winking as Eve used the side of her pinkie finger to straighten out the edges of my lipstick. It tickled a little, which was all I really took from the action but I knew it must have been driving Hancock up the ever loving wall. _‘Oh, what I wouldn’t give for that to be my lips she be stroking with her dainty little finger!_ ’ (Yeah, for some reason when I try to impersonate Hancock, he always ends up talking like something out of a Shakespearean drama. I guess I just figure it’s funny, given how he talks in real life. I dunno). “I happen to think I look very pretty. I used to make a pretty hot girl, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you were killing it.” Eve laughed, finishing with my lipstick before using the eyeshadow brush to finalize the accentuations to my upper lids. She gave me one last inspection before, with a satisfied smile, she slid the brush into its’ little leather rollie bag and pushed this back into her vanity case. “There you go. Looking _gorgeous_.”

I examined my face in the mirror; smirking to see how much serious attention and work Eve had given my random request. God, what I would have given to have had her around when I went undercover as a woman. She was pretty deft in the makeup department. The red lipstick looked really startling on my pale fish, but I was kind of digging the overall look. Lock up your husbands Commonwealth, Jane Doe is on the prowl!

“Oh, do I _ever_. Thanks girlfriend.” I leaned over, Cherub and I placing our hands on one another’s shoulders and performing a lavish, over the top ‘mwah-mwah’ to our respective cheeks. As Eve packed up her supplies, I clambered to my feet; placing my hands on my hips and emulating a heavy hipped strut as I made my way over to join the others closer to the campfire. As Hancock and MacCready just sort of stared and blinked and shook their heads, I brought my hands up as though fighting off their eager advances.

“Whoa, just settle down fella’s.” I said, lowering myself daintily upon a half circle of tree stump and slinging one leg over the other; knee jilted high and fingers pointed and pressed to the cap. “Despite how mouth-watering I look, don’t forget that it’s still me underneath.”

Nick, having only just returned with more wood for the fire (not feeling the cold, he felt he was best to get this little task out of the way whilst leaving the rest of us to defrost) took in my appearance with a more non-judgmental air and gave a chuckle as he fed a couple of smaller legs into the steady, licking flames.

“No offense to Evelyn’s skills as a makeup artist but you look like a Pagliacci clown, Doe.”

“Hey, I will take offense at that, Nick!” Eve gawped, shaking the now restuffed and rezipped bag of wonders in Nick’s direction. “Look how beautifully his foundation is blended. It matches his neck _perfectly_ and that’s not easy to do with my limited supplies!”

MacCready gave another throaty snort that seemed to eject more from his nose than from his mouth as he finished reassembling the gun he was working on and carried back over to the fire to return to Cait. “At the end of the day, he’s still a man wearing a full face of makeup.” He stopped and stared at me, his hand fetching a cigarette out from his pocket that he went and lit after battling with one very frigid match for close to half a minute or so. “Ain’t you worried that people won’t take you seriously when you walk around looking like that, D?”

“I sure as shit would.” Hancock grumbled, holding up the disassembled stock of Piper’s handgun and giving it a thorough inspection. That’s right, you bury that sadness in mundane tasks, my friend. “You look like a right proper prat. I tell you, I would never let a woman paint my face up like that, come hell or high water.”

Well, bulls to the wool with _that._ As if he wouldn’t have offered up his left testicle to a hungry Yao Guai to have been in my place. Man was so freakin’ infatuated with Eve I bet he _would_ have let her paint a clown face on him. And hey, never mind the fact I saw you getting around with a big pink butterfly on your face earlier today, Hancock. Eh? Shoes on the other foot now, ya big doily!

“Yes, well I hate to say it Hancock but it would take more than just a lick of makeup to beautify that mug.” I responded, fluttering my eyelashes delicately in his direction; hard enough to gust out the dancing flames of the campfire. Hancock made a mocking sort of ‘ha-ha’ motion and waggled his middle finger in my general vicinity. Truth hurts, huh?

“Yeah well, well me and my ‘ugly mug’ have got places to be.” He said, grunting as he tucked his legs under his rump and pushed himself up onto his feet. He handed the now clean and maintenance managed pistol back to Piper before whipping an old rag from his pocket and wiping some grease like residue from his fingers. Eve glanced up from her duffle bag, face poised with curiosity.

“What? You’re not… taking off are you?” Aww. The palpable concern in her voice! Entirely unwarranted, mind you. Wherever Hancock had to be, surely wasn’t going to anywhere out of eyeshot of Eve anytime soon. That would leave too much wriggle room for scar-free, twenty-year younger competition to come swanning along and make its mark.

Hancock smirked at her as he made his way back up into the shanty. “And break up the Dangerous duo? I think not.” He chuckled, ducking inside before returning mere moments later with shotgun tucked under one arm and a segmented fishing pole tucked under the other. “Coastline’s just back over that hill there. Thought I’d grab us some breakfast while it’s still early. We’re on pretty thin supplies as is and I don’t know about you, but I could use something fresh.”

Eve’s eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas time. “Ohhhh… you’re going fishing?”

Hancock gave her a look as though she were being purposefully stupid. “No, Munch. I just mentioned the Coast line and brought out my fishing pole for absolutely no reason whatsoever. I’m going to collect pine cones.”

“Yeah, yeah all right. You don’t have to be a big bitch about it.” Eve grumbled, retrieving her gun holster from some far-flung void of her duffle and sanctioning it about her hips. “And here I was, about to up and offer my company for your little expedition but if you’re going to be like that…”

Of course, Hancock started backpedalling with such gusto I was surprised he didn’t end up ass over tit in the campfire. He managed, however, to do it in that cool, calm and seemingly unaffected way I think he’d spent most of his life perfecting.

“Come on Muncher, don’t be so soft.” He drawled, a statement over which they shared a conspiratorial chuckle. Inside joke? “You know I don’t mean no harm in stirrin’ ya. Come along if ya like. I could use someone to watch my ass.”

“I do precious little besides watch your ass.” Eve said, winking suggestively and the two shared another laugh over that. Honest to Betsy. How can two people flirt so obviously with one another and still act so surprised months later when they’re playing tonsil hockey for all of Goodneighbor to see?

“Don’t wait for us to get back to eat if ya guts is really gnawin’ at ya.” Hancock said to the rest of us as Eve packed some extra magnum bullets into one of the holsters pouches before sheathing the weapon itself. “But if you’re wantin’ some fresh fish, shouldn’t take me too long to reel a couple in.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, given the sad and sorry state of most of H20 deposits these days but I couldn’t help feeling a little hopeful. A feed of fresh fish would be just the ticket. We’d been eating out of cans for just way too many days now for it to be healthy. I was starting to develop a taste in my mouth like I’d been sucking on handfuls of bottle caps in my sleep. Judging from the way that the others (at least, those who were capable of eating) sat up and licked the corners of their lips; I could tell they were thinking the same thing.

Still, I figured I’d fit a little extra teasing in before the two bungled off for some intimate ‘alone’ time and gave Hancock an enquiring look as I slipped my sunglasses back down over my heavily made up eyes.

“Hey. You want some extra company for the big fishing expedition?”

MacCready’s eyes fairly glinted as he hopped on board the Hancock-block train. “Yeah, I might tag along myself. Been years since I went fishing; you can give me some pointers!”

Hancock seethed from behind Eve, mouthing ‘NO’ with great emphasis and slashing his finger across his throat. Suggesting, I could only suppose, that he saw great merit in ending our lives at the earliest possible juncture. Valentine would be pleased be our tagging along I knew; he was protective of Eve for reason’s best known only to himself. Honestly, when a girl had the guns and the whoop-ass to go hand to hand with a rabid Yao Guai, ya gotta wonder just where the old bot got off being concerned. Though I imagine it wasn’t Eve’s physical fortitude that worried him so much as Hancock being his usual slaggy self, getting a couple of boffs in and then fucking off back to Goodneighbor.

But of course, Nick wasn’t privy to the juicy bit of info Cait and I had wandered up on at the Zimoji settlement. He had no idea that Hancock wanted to boff Eve under only the most loving and tender of circumstances. Maybe with a candle nearby and ‘Blue Moon’ playing on the radio for good measure. Who knows; he might have gone and surprised us all and stuck about for breakfast! Guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning to see but in the meantime – seriously Cherub, put the pepper down. You know this’ll just end badly for all the poor souls sitting between you and the stage.

So, MacCready and I relented in our teasing and released Hancock and Eve from our presence. They trotted off and away up the hill, Eve keeping an eye out for trouble and swinging a bucket jauntily in her left hand as she did. _Jack and Jill went up the hill_ … Nah, too on the nose. Funny as it would be to see Hancock trip over and come rolling down the hill like a bowling ball on the warpath. Although, if memory serves I think that very thing had happened only a week or so earlier… Around the same time Eve fell down a toilet… Jesus, is it any wonder that readership of Publick Occurrences is at an all-time high? You can’t _make_ shit like that up!

We were all keen on having ourselves some fresh food for a change, so the canned ‘goods’ were kept at bay and we all tried our best to be productive while we waited for the warriors to return from the hunt. I utilized my time efficiently by going through Hancock’s bag; looking for something juicy like a diary or a journal. Something in which he had written all sorts of scandalous things about his massive Brotherhood of Steel blimp sized hard on for Eve. The cover no doubt emblazoned lavishly with _‘JH 4 EH 4EVA’_ in big old love hearts with arrows sticking out of them. Or ‘ _Mr John Hallows’_ and _‘Mrs Eve Hancock’_. Wow… you _really_ shouldn’t take Hancock’s surname when you guys eventually get hitched, Cherub. Mrs Eve Hancock does _not_ have a good ring to it. John Hallows though, that’s not bad. That guy sounds like a winner.

So, with my hopes for biographical research quashed, I did what any normal, well-adjusted person would; rubbed some of Hancock’s expensive creams onto my knees and made some balloons out of his condoms. _Yes_ Hancock, _that’s_ where they all went. Little mystery solved at long last, huzzah. Hey, wasn’t like you were usin’ them anyway!

MacCready, Cait and I had a jolly old time, testing our reflexes and honing our agility skill set. Dogmeat was bouncing one around on the ground, chasing it with his muzzle and poking at it provocatively with one forepaw. Piper hadn’t looked up long enough from scribbling in her notepad to notice what we were doing and Codsworth’s only contribution to our spirited game was to exclaim, ever so poshly, “Well, _really!_ ”

Nick took a little longer to cotton on; namely because he was focusing on bringing the fire back to full strength. He glanced over once or twice and I think simply assumed that we just had some balls or actual balloons, because he didn’t pay much mind beyond this. Until, after staring for a bit and frowning, his synthetic jaw dropped and he surged up; snatching bouncing, breath bloated condoms out of the air.

“Booo. Party pooper.” I hooted, Cait and MacCready creasing up as Nick went to great strains trying to contain all the condoms under each of his arms whilst at the same time attempting to wrestle out the knots I had tied in the ends of them. One of them got away from him and took off into the great beyond, whistling triumphantly as it went. Dogmeat took after it, barking like crazy and running about in circles as the thing whizzed overhead.

“Oh, for the love of-!” Nick cursed, finally managing to hook his steel fingers through a knot and safely deflate one of the puffy prophylactics. “Do you knuckle heads realize what your silly little joke might have caused?”

“What? One more STD to add to Hancock’s list?” MacCready sniffed, which sent Cait to almost rolling off of the tree trunk with laughter. Piper, having finally realized what was going on, sat there, staring at Nick who was squeezing about three of the condoms beneath his arm like an old-world bagpipe player.

“No, wise-ass.” Nick snapped, dropping one sad deflated condom onto the ground where it lay like an extra-ribbed for her pleasure snake skin. “Suppose Evelyn gets drunk one night- (as she does most every night) - and she finally gives in to Hancock’s nonsense! And now here you’ve gone and ruined every condom the man has at his disposal, they’ll probably end up making unprotected love and Eve’ll end up either pregnant or infested with some god awful venereal disease!”

Piper flushed and turned her head away with an audible wince. “Jesus Nick, come on! I want to keep my appetite for breakfast, if it’s not too much trouble!”

“Besides, Ghouls can’t have bebbies.” I reminded, reaching down and plucking up the abandoned condom. It had stretched out so much that I was able to slide my arm inside of it and make a little ‘sock’ puppet. I moved the mouth in time with my own words, as though it were the condom carrying on the conversation. “Ghouls be shooting the blanks and really don’t need to be lugging so many condoms around. I think it’s just a ploy, so that people think that Hancock’s getting some.”

Nick reached down, snagging the base of the condom and ripping it off of my hand in one fluid motion. I kept my fingers in the same beak shape and tipped it back, opening its ‘mouth’ as though it were howling. I emitted a high pitched, gurgling shriek at the back of my throat, as though the ‘hand puppet’ had been skinned alive. Nick lashed the bedraggled condom about the back of my head for my efforts.

“Oh, shut up.” He grumbled, dispensing with his delicate ablutions and simply puncturing the remaining ‘balloons’ with one pointed metallic finger. “You lot can explain this to Hancock when he gets back, because damned if I’m going to run interference on _this_ crap.”

I chuckled as I hopped up onto my feet; brushing down the thick flower spangled jacket I had chosen to pair with a very pleasing set of canary yellow slacks. All the better to keep myself from getting lost in the Commonwealth and increase the likelihood at being sniped from a distance of a thousand yards; give or take a foot.

“Well, before my life comes to an untimely termination, think I might just take myself on a little jaunt.” I said, placing one hand on my hip and extending the other one out to my side in a very stereotyped visage of a sexy woman. I strutted from the campfire in the most over the top way possible; bringing each leg down and across the other with such deliberation it might very well have knocked my hips out of joint. “ _Bon vivant_ and all that, _darlings._ ”

I heard the sound of a book snapping shut from behind me and turned to see Piper stowing her journal back into the mouth of her duffle.

“Hold on. I’ll tag along.” She said, holstering her newly cleaned pistol at her hip as she clambered up from her perch on the log. She trotted to my side, blowing into the cup of her hands as she came. “None of us should be going off alone. _Especially_ those of us wearing bright yellow pants.”

My painted lips twisted into a slight smile. “Aww, you worried about me, Piper?” I bumped my hip against her own; teasing. “That’s nice. Now I know at least _one_ person will miss me after Hancock buries me in a shallow grave.”

Piper twisted her lips impatiently, pulling the halves of her jacket about her midsection as some means of buffer against the morning cold.

“Don’t go and read too much into it. It’s just a better option than sitting around being bored and watching Nick try to pull a puncture repair job on Hancock’s rubbers.” She stated, casting a concerned glance towards the increasingly irritated detective, who had since returned to his post by the fire. In contrast to his worsening mood, I felt my own continue to lift and lighten by the moment. Being out and about always had this effect on me; getting to torment the ever-loving shit out of someone at the same time was simply pure gravy.

“Point taken. Well, let’s scramble.” I said, turning a sharp right and trotting with intent, up the same hill that Eve and Hancock had ascended less than a half hour earlier. Piper, trailing in my wake, caught on almost immediately.

“Oh, wait. You’re planning to go and _spy_ on those two, aren’t you?”

I shrugged, shameless about my ‘jaunt’ being exposed for what it truly was. “Spy has such a… harsh ring to it, Piper. I prefer the term ‘light reconnaissance work’.”

She scoffed, quickening her pace so she drew even with me. “Reconnaissance work, my ass. You just wanna see if they’re off… doing stuff.”

I laughed at her refusal to describe a naked horizontal expression of affection as precisely what it was. No, better off to be all coy about it. I think she was worried that if she said it out loud that the image of naked Hancock and Eve would float unbidden into her mind and then she would be forever unable to extricate it from the nodes into which it would lodge.

“Geez, Piper. Just say hot, sweaty, acrobatic jungle-sex like the rest of us, eh?” I said, which immediately set her face to flushing as I purposefully instilled the image she had been working so hard to avoid. You’re welcome. “Heh, relax. It’s _way_ too cold a morning. I doubt those two bed bugs have succumbed to natures call and shed their clothing like a cocoon and gone off to frolic naked in the icy cold grip of the ocean. What would be the point? Hancock’s penis would disappear inside of himself like a scared turtle.”

Piper groaned as though suddenly besieged by the most resolute of once monthly menstrual cramps. “For fucks sake, Deacon! What made you think I needed an internal image of Hancock’s penis in my life?” She lashed her hand against my arm for extra measure, making it plaintively clear that she did not in fact, appreciate the gift. I laughed as I added a little hop skip to my walk; secretly enjoying the disquiet I had caused.

“Well, to each their own. Personally, I don’t think those two have gotten anywhere in regards to the making of the beast with two backs.” I reached into my pocket and took out a pair of Christmas themed mittens to slide over my hands. The chill of the morning air was starting to make my joints swell up. “I mean, the old boy’s as keen as anything but I think Cherub’s still weighing stuff up in her head.”

“Oh, without a doubt.” Piper concurred, glancing about to the left and the right as we continued to ascend the hill. There was no one in sight for as far as the eye could see but that didn’t mean anything. Mole rats could often attack from below and be biting a cap sized hole in your crotch before you could say ‘how’s your father?’ “She’s still getting over Nate’s death, not to mention all the worry over Shaun and the Institute.” She turned her gaze front and center; lip curling up at the side in her classic example of annoyance. “I actually think it’s pretty tasteless of Hancock to be making a play for someone as vulnerable as her. Poor Blue doesn’t know whether she’s coming or going most days.”

“Yeah, but that’s a personality quirk, as opposed to a circumstantial one.” I established, smirking to myself when I thought of Eve bungling her way through the Commonwealth after shaking off the icicles from Vault 101. She always had this wide eyed ‘ _what the fuck is going on’_ kind of expression, that rarely left her face; even when she was doing something as innocuous as making a sandwich. An adorable grade A derp. “And maybe you oughta ease up on poor Mayor McHorndog for five seconds, huh? Guys genuinely sweet on Cherub. You keep talking trash behind his back, people’ll start thinking you’re gunning for her yourself.”

Piper shouldered me right in the middle of one of my little hops; almost sending me catapulting down the hill. She flashed me a dirty look as I righted myself but her lip was quirked up in the corner.

“Blue ain’t exactly my type.” She established, giving herself over to a chuckle as I petted down my attire to make certain everything was in order. The crown of my head was starting to feel cold and I regretted not having put on that awesome _Ushanka_ I had found a couple of days earlier. “If one must be choosy, I’d prefer to stick with the male populace.” She tilted her head enquiringly at me; her eyes taking on that tell-tale gleam as she sank deftly back into journalistic mode. “How about you?”

I shrugged as I returned to hurling myself back up the hill; feeling the muscles in my legs stretch and compress as I went. “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever tried it with another member of the male populace. So, I guess I shouldn’t knock it until I’ve done more research.”

Her hand slapped to the wall of my back. “I meant if you had a thing for Blue!”

I paused and turned to Piper, affecting the most serious expression I had in my arsenal. Of which I had an admittedly small pool from which to draw. “Oh, I _do_. I _do_ have a thing.” I said mysteriously, holding up a finger as Piper’s eyes widened in what I can only describe as delighted astonishment. “But societal norms dictate that I am not to show it to her without first asking her permission.”

Piper took a moment to work this out in her head, before, with an exhausted sort of laugh, she reached over and lightly shoved my chest.

“Come on. Be serious for once.”

I smirked as I turned back to continue my conquering of the dreaded hill. We were making precious little progress, what with Piper’s (not entirely unexpected) inquisitorial. “Cherub and I have got a… mutually beneficial relationship. We’re ‘friends with benefits’, if you will. (Not _those_ sort of benefits Hancock, calm the farm.) Better off to keep emotion out of it where possible. Business, business, business.”

“So, if it _wasn’t_ business...?”

“Dunno.” I said earnestly, having not really thought about it before. I took a moment, swung my eyes to the sky and gave the notion my most earnest college try. I whipped up the images in my brain with the mental flourish of a trained fire twirler; Cherub and I getting about the place, all smoochy-woochy, our tongues lending themselves to equally elaborate and carious pet names. Such as Wolly-Bobbles, Snickerdoodle, Snuggle Sausage and my very favorite of all: Widdle Nookie Nuk-Nuks. Strutting down the theoretical street together, hands locked in a fierce demonstration of our earnest, irrevocable devotion to one another. Eating delicious home cooked meals whilst John Doe Jr and his little sister Persephone Morgana Lorelai lay sprawled in a death grip by the fire; watched over by Dogmeat and our twenty-five assorted rescue dogs, appropriated from every far-flung settlement of the Commonwealth. Swanning off to bed with a full-belly, putting on my sexiest pair of silky black Y fronts and rubbing moisturizer on my head to simulate that effervescent glow of fertility coupled with incomparable standards of acrobatic love making and oral finesse.

Then I imagined the looming shadow of Hancock towering above it all; his beady, beetle black eyes glinting with envious malevolence as he waited, flush with anticipation in the wardrobe for me to fall asleep; so that my newly moisturized throat was defenceless before his blade. I extinguished the thought quickly. Cuddly as Eve was and as scrumptious as her cooking is, there is simply some lines that should not be crossed. And planting a seed in my own mind about what _could_ potentially be, wasn’t likely to help anyone. Though seriously Cherub, if things fall through with this one, seems a shame not to bestow upon the world a child with the non-deplume Persephone Morgana Lorelai, eh? And I know you’re down with the shiny, naked head look. No pressure.  

“Be kind of a low blow so far as Hancock was concerned, right?” Was how I replied, because protecting Hancock’s delicate feelings was of course my major concern in regards to potentially shacking up with the love of his life. Never mind the inevitable relocating I would have to undertake just so as he’d never have the opportunity to insert assorted inanimate objects up my rectum. “Reckon if any of us fellas looked sideways at Eve, he’d probably drag us out by the heels in the dead of night and hang us from a tree with a weight tied to our testicles.”

Piper grumbled as she once again sped up to draw even with me. “Blue is not the exclusive romantic property of John Hancock, you know.”

I turned my head, lifting my brow in my very best interpretation of Cherub’s curious expression. Wasn’t sure if I nailed it but practice makes perfect and what not. “Why Miss Piper, you sound as though you _want_ me to go chasing after Eve. Are you really so keen to see me felled beneath the Ghoul Mayor’s mighty blade?”

“No.” She said, her tone once more impressing upon me the impatience she felt stirring at her core. “I’m just not so sure that _he’s_ the best choice for her, is all. He’s got a reputation so far as women goes.” She rolled her shoulder, her expression softening and displaying such genuine concern I actually felt compelled to cease my teasing for a minute or two. “I just… I don’t want to see her hurting any more than she already is.”

It was plain to see that she was sincerely worried for Cherub, so I took a break from playing the fool just long enough to assuage her as best I was able. Hey, I can ease up on the rudder where necessary.

“Hey,” I said, reaching over and placing my hand against her upper arm. I squeezed softly, encouraging her to look up at me, which she managed after a moment’s hesitation. (Face full of this handsome mug, I mean, it can be pretty confronting when you’re not used to it). “Ya got reason to be concerned, that’s true. But I really think you’re worrying out of turn. Hancock’s not a bad guy and I know, with my hand on my heart-” I did this very thing just to really drive the point home. “- that he genuinely loves Eve.”

Piper’s brows furrowed suspiciously at me and I could almost hear the cogs grinding in her frontal lobe as this information did its utmost to penetrate. “How could you _possibly_ know that?”

“Told me so himself.” I said, putting my hands on my hips and smirking to see Piper’s eyes widen in acknowledgement. Wishing, most likely, that she hadn’t left her notepad back at the camp. “Few weeks back in Zimoji. Cherub encouraged him to go hook up with some girl he knew at the settlement but he pulled the pin on it. Cait and I were reading him the riot act, thinkin’ he’d gone ahead with it but he told us he’d never risk hurting Eve because he ‘quote’ loved her ‘end quote’. Sweet, huh?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it ‘sweet’.” Piper mused, though she looked slightly less concerned than earlier. Her narrowed gaze cast to the side, beseeching the surrounding stones, earth and radiation scorched trees for an interpretation that made much more sense to her than this one. “Maybe he was just saying stuff so you’d ease up off of him.”

Now it was my turn to cast the scepticism net in a wide arch. “You’re talking about Hancock, right? The guy who’d just tell you to up and shut your mouth if you said something he didn’t like the sound of?” I peered out over the top of my glasses at her dubiously; encouraging her to have a good hard think about what she was suggesting. “Come on, Piper. If there’s one thing that Hancock isn’t, it’s a liar. Guy _always_ tells the truth, whether you like it or not. Besides, not like he sees Cherub as just ‘some girl’ to get his end away with. They’re friends. You see that, right? I mean, they talk to each other while one of them’s on the toilet. _Not_ that I would consider that to be a healthy means of measuring a friendship, but there you go.”

Piper gave a hesitant, incredibly begrudging nod; finding it very difficult to argue with the validity of such pure friendship as this. “Yeah, gotta hand you that one. Though if you ask me, Blue could stand to be a little more choosy with who she invites into the fold… Or talks to when she’s on the toilet.”

“Thank god she doesn’t, or you might have missed out on the pleasure of my company!” I laughed, giving her a teasing pat to the arm. “And just think how boring our adventures would have been if Cherub didn’t have a bad habit of adopting every random weirdo she runs across.” I chuckled as I turned about and refocused my efforts on scaling that dang blasted hill. Come on, landscape! Give up the goods, already! “Come on. Put that sharp mind of yours to rest for a bit and let’s go see what the two little pigeons are up to.”

Having shelved conversation for the time being, we rallied energy enough to finally traverse the hill and sprout over the ridge like the sun arching dramatically from the hills of the East. I had little time to celebrate, carefully coordinating my feet as I all but danced down the far side; avoiding rocks and other sharp, pointy undesirables during my descent. Piper, not quite as practiced with being quiet and sneaky such as myself, came along a little gracelessly, almost tripping and ending up rolling face first down the hill. I managed to catch her at the last moment, pulling her in tight under my arm before she went and did herself a right proper injury.

“Whoa, easy there. Take a fall down here, people’ll start mistaking you for a Ghoul.” I said, chuckling to see the pink hue that had adhered itself to her cheeks. Aww and here Hancock thought that _he_ was the most charming bastard to grace the Wasteland. “Slow it down a notch. Ain’t no rush.”

I guided Piper down the remainder of the hill and took mercy in releasing her before she could start thrashing about like a fish out of water. Speaking of fish, we were nearing the coastline now; evidenced as such by the strong, fragrant odour of low tide, permeated by radiation and radgull crap. _Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside…_

“Now, where could they be hiding…” I mused to myself, securing my body to the side of what must have been an old boat house in the previous world. Only the boat was nowhere to be seen and most of the mildewed boards had rotted and faded from the buffeting it continually received from the tides of the ocean. I gazed through a gap in the boards and, sure enough, saw a flash of red in my periphery. I scooted along, found another hole and stood on my tiptoes to peek through.

Ah, _there_ they were. Perched on the docks; back to back. Eve, surveying the wider expanse of the Wasteland, eyes still half lidded with weariness; magnum handgun slouched over her right knee. Great job guarding there, Cherub. Lucky _I_ wasn’t a Raider, you know what I’m saying? Could have had your brains splattered all over the back of Hancock’s hat before you knew what had hit you.

Hancock was sitting cross-legged, away from the edge of the wooden dock by about four feet or so. He’d mentioned in the past that his father had taught him to keep out of sight of the water; that fish could see you if you hovered over the edge and it kept them from coming close to the bait. He was doing so now, lightly bobbing the rod and then giving it a gentle, slow weave from side to side. He wound the reel slightly and then left it, reaching down to his side and picking up a tin of purified water one of them had set there. He drank from it before then, with an awkward twist of his arm, offered it to Eve. She took it and drank, sighed and then set it back down. Sexy stuff.

The bucket rested nearby and I could see the still twitching tails of a couple of fish already occupying the interior of it. Beside the bucket, were the carcasses of two Mirelurk hatchlings and a half dozen or so eggs. I wondered where Mama Mirelurk had gone to. Hancock and Eve had likely capped it and left the body somewhere else. Easier than dragging it out onto the dock. I imagined that they were using the Mirelurk meat as bait and hoped they had sense enough to actually bring some of that good stuff back to base with them. Hancock might not have been keen on the old ‘Lurk meat but it didn’t mean the rest of us should go without-

“What are they doing?” Piper whispered from beside my ear and I nearly leapt from my yellow duds. Christ, I wasn’t used to spying with a partner along for the ride. After taking a moment to calm myself and steady the fluctuations of my bottom hole, I moved away from the gap in the boards and gestured for her to take up my spot.

“Just be forewarned, you may be scarred for life.” I said, stacking the deck squarely before Piper could so much as take a look. She hesitated for a moment, then, catching the smirk on my face, realized I was most likely shit stirring and stretched up on her tippy toes to reach the gap. She wasn’t quite able to make the distance, so I stepped up and braced both hands; allowing her to stand on them and lift herself to a higher vantage point. She quietly thanked me, before peering through the guts of the building.

“Oh.” She said after a moment, sounding slightly disappointed. “Well… they’re just… sitting there, aren’t they?”

“Nothing surer.”

She tilted her head from side to side, as though adjusting the angle of her view would enhance the experience some. “Eve looks like she’s about to fall asleep. I don’t think they’re even talking to one another!”

I chuckled to see how disappointed she sounded; in spite of her earlier aspersions. “I guess they’re just basking in the warm, loving glow of one another.”

“The warm _boring_ glow of one another.” Piper snarked, lowering herself away from the gap in the building and stepping off of my hand. She brushed herself down, having picked up some dust from the side of the building; looking more annoyed by the moment. “Well, that was a bust. I was hoping we’d at least walk up on him confessing his mad undying love or something.”

I had to fight back the burst of laughter this just about wrought from me. “Wow. A reporter to the core, huh? Good thing you don’t have a camera at your disposal; wouldn’t be a soul safe in all the Commonwealth.”

She gave a soft, ironic sounding snort. “Wouldn’t be a corner McDonough could slouch to where I wouldn’t be waiting for him, _that’s_ for sure.” Lips pouted, she tucked her hands in underneath her arms and rocked backward and forward on her heels; trying to keep herself warm. “Well, least they’ve caught us some grub. I’m _so_ goddamn hungry, I feel like I could eat the ass out of a low flying Radgull-”

Her words were cut short by a cacophonous ‘BOOM’ from nearby and the corner of the boat shed was shattered into quill like splinters. Piper screamed with all the drama of a female extra in one of those goofy Silver Shroud radio shows, cupping her arms up over her head and tucking herself down close to my side. I was already practically nose deep in the dirt as it was; my own womanly scream having mercifully been swallowed up by Piper’s slightly louder one.

“Oh my God! Someone’s shooting at us!” Piper whimpered, finally seeing sense and loosing one hand from her cranium to wrench out her 10mm. I gave a little chuckle and shook my head from side to side.

“Yeah… got a good idea who.” I said, lifting my head just enough to peer through one of the lower gaps in the boat house. Sure enough, there was Cherub; gun aimed in our direction and feet spaced apart as though she were at a firing range. Hancock was staring up at her, his face expressing shock equal to that of Piper’s. She mustn’t have said anything before firing off a round.

“WHO THE FUCK’S HIDING OVER THERE?!” Eve bellowed, using her ‘I’m trying to sound savage but I’m really a cupcake’ tone of voice. She always had this distinct quaver to the edge of her words that was a dead giveaway as to the anxiety she was actually experiencing.

One person who had no anxiety around confrontation however, was John Hancock. Who immediately scrambled to his feet and aimed his side by side in our direction. We were too far away for him to reach us with the weapon’s spread, but I knew for a fact that he wasn’t the least bit nervous about running on over and dealing some face to face whoop ass.

“DID YOU NOT THINK IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN A SMARTER IDEA TO HAVE ASKED THAT BEFORE YOU FIRED OFF A GODDAMN HAND CANNON?!” I yelled back through the hole in the boat shed, watching as Eve and Hancock simultaneously slumped and tilted their heads back; no doubt groaning at the sky.

“Doe, are you freakin’ _spying_ on me. _Again?”_ Eve called, lowering the barrel of the gun so that the dangerous end was pointed towards the ground. I was a little concerned to see that Hancock however, had not followed suit. He continued to stare, beady eyed and cantankerous down the line of the shotgun. I thanked God for small mercies in that he wasn’t particularly partial to anything with a scope.

“MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS.” I yelled back, only to then let out a frightened squeal as Hancock, clearly having marched himself closer to the shed, fired off a round from one of the barrels of his side by side. The pellets splintered holes in the far side, which streamed light from the morning sun onto the floor of the interior. Piper yelped and tucked herself further behind me; for what good _my_ intimidating presence would pose in the face of a pissed off John Hancock.

“HEY! COME ON HANCOCK, IT’S _US_ BACK HERE!!” I yelled, wishing I’d had the foresight to have brought a firearm of my own. Even if only to throw as some form of distraction.

“I know.” Hancock replied calmly, chambering another round with a no doubt self-satisfied smirk adorning his raison like little face. The admission on his part was enough to get Piper riled and she immediately jumped to her feet with a sort of mixed growl-grunt.

“If you know it’s us then _knock it off!!_ ” She demanded, jabbing the barrel of her 10mm through one of the shed’s many holes and aiming it in what she must have assumed was Hancock’s general direction. “Stop being so fucking childish and wasting all that ammunition!”

I knew full well Hancock wasn’t going to like this very much. He’d put up with a telling off from Eve, (most likely because it turned the dirty old coot on) but he had a fairly limited tolerance for others giving him the old verbal tongue lashing. His response was as expected.

“Oh. So, it ain’t _childish_ to hide behind a fucking building and spy on a couple of people without them knowin’ about it?” He responded, from much closer than I had thought him to be. Not a second later, he appeared from around the corner of the building and stood there, glaring at the two of us with his shotgun now pressed to his midsection and the barrel pointed off to the side. Thank Jehova. “How many caps did Nick put in your purses for _this_ one, eh? Startin’ to think I’ll have ta start payin’ ya’s all just to fuck off.”

Piper’s face scrunched in confusion as she near forcefully yanked her 10mm out from the hole in the shed wall. “Wha- _caps?_ What are you _talking_ about?”

Hancock’s eyes narrowed into ebony slits and his voice lowered in turn to a near indiscernible hiss of malice. “Don’t play stupid, Ink-slinger. It’s unattractive. And I only got so much patience for folks intrudin’ on my time.” His fingers squeezed the stock of the shotgun so tightly that it squeaked from the pressure. You could almost smell the waves of irritation underpinned by latent sexual repression wafting out from the cracks in his skin. “So… how much did the old bot fork out?”

“Believe it or not Hancock, Nick may have better things to spend his caps on than cock blocking you at every turn.” I said, climbing to my feet and patting dry grass, dirt and whatnot off of my butt. Seeing the confusion still clouded across Piper’s face, I further embellished: “Nick once paid MacCready to intrude before Eve made a massive life mistake.”

“ _’Massive life mistake’…_ why don’t you just get over here and kiss my ass?” Hancock snapped, an invitation of little allure given how tightly his hands were kneading the length of his firearm. Never mind the most likely horrible pock marked state of his ass. “And it wasn’t just MacCready went and got paid for that crap; you lined you freakin’ pockets too, ya greasy little prick!”

“Actually,” I stated, lifting a finger to further elucidate my point. “Nick only _suggested_ I go and check in on the two of you. I didn’t take a cap for it. Annoying you was payment enough.”

My beaming radiant smile was just enough to push Hancock to the edge of his restraint and I think he may very well have busted my jaw with the stock of his shotgun if Eve hadn’t waddled up right in the nick of time. In contrast to Hancock’s furious constipation-esque expression of malevolence, she on the other hand looked simply tired and resigned. She smiled patiently at the pair of us; crossing her arms and sinking her shoulder against Hancock’s, permitting her head to loll sideways and rest against his bicep. Hancock’s put upon look immediately melted like a big drippy ice-cream cone and I could literally see every taut muscle in his body go lax at her touch. Dude had it _bad._ Oh Johnny-boy. Just tell her you love her, ya big goof!

“Why did I even bother going to so much effort on your eyes if you’re just going to hide them, Doe?” Eve remarked and it made me smile all the more to think that her major annoyance was that I was censoring her work. I placed my fingers delicately to the band of my glasses and moved my brows up and down in a salacious manner.

“Why, because I didn’t want you recognizing me of course.” I said, which actually roused a chuckle from her. Hancock’s hairless brows pinned in as he glanced down at her; clearly of the opinion that she was letting the team down in being so laid back.

“You guys wanna see what we got?” She asked, gesturing back over her shoulder with a jerk of her glove covered thumb. “Hancock’s hooked in a real couple of thumpers. He’s quite the little fisherman.”

“Yeah. A real master-baiter.” I said, pulling back my lips to form a full toothed, cheeky grin that I suspect Hancock wanted to shoot a hole directly through. He settled for an exasperated groan instead, shaking his head off to the side and muttering something that would forever remain a mystery to the rest of us. No doubt something incredibly flattering about yours truly and the circumstances concerning his birth.

Eve laughed as she reached over, hooking her arm through Piper’s and steering her away from the side of the building. “Come on then.” She said, leading the still glowering reporter over to their little fishing encampment. I trailed along in their wake, Hancock still exuding prickles as he nonetheless traipsed at my side.

“So,” I said, leaning close and exercising just enough kindness in lowering my voice. “Got round to confessing your ever eternal and undying love yet?”

Hancock stared up at me ironically; the severe line of his brows not altering a jot. “You should know. You’re never out of fucking earshot, after all.”

“Now, that’s not fair.” I established, affecting a tone of dewy eyed innocence whilst tittering with glee all the while on the inside. “How can I be held to account simply for taking an interest in the love lives of my dear travelling companions?”

“It would behove both you and the Reporter to learn to mind your own business on occasion.” Hancock stated, his eyes turned forwards now and focused, resolutely as ever, on Eve’s bum. “Besides… not sure I _am_ ever gonna tell her. Whole thing’s a bit complicated.”

Heh, I know. Ironic, huh? To see them sitting there together right now in all their cavity inducing sweetness you wouldn’t _think_ Hancock could have ever been so apprehensive. But then I suppose it wasn’t often that he experienced that unfamiliar sensation most of us mortals have come to know as ‘insecurity’. When you’ve lived your life for so long with a ‘nothing to lose’ mentality, it can be pretty jarring to suddenly _have_ something to lose. Deep, huh? I got my moments.  

In any event, Eve and Hancock showed us the fruits of their labours; five decent sized fish (damned if I could tell you what species exactly), two Mirelurk hatchlings and three early stage eggs. Eve smiled as she reached into the slimy old bucket and wedged her fingers into the gills of one of the fish; lifting its still twitching body to properly show it off. When Piper and I had both suitably praised their efforts and affirmed that, yes indeed, that was a big fish; she placed it down on one of the dock boards and picked up a knife that she had wedged into the wood nearby.

“Here. I’ll clean this bad boy off for you now and you can take back the fillets to cook and pick at while we finish up.” She said, jamming the knife blade into the side of the fish’s head without so much as a ‘how do you do’. She was always a little too comfortable with these sorts of gross muckity-muck things. As the fish gave a few idle (hopefully dying) thrashes, Eve glanced up at mine and Piper’s no doubt matching expressions of disgust and smiled lightly. “Come on. Don’t tell me neither one of you has ever cleaned a fishy before?”

“Never… really needed to.” Piper stated, running congruent to my jerking shrug of admission. I’d used to live mainly inland growing up and so fish were hardly ever on the menu. And if they were, not much work went into the cleaning of them.

Eve chuckled as she retrieved the knife from the side of the poor old fish’s head. “Guess I kinda take for granted most folks have their head around this sort of thing. Anyway, watch close and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

I wanted to suck it up and look manly about the whole thing, so I battened my natural, instinctive feelings of repulsion down and paid (somewhat due) attention as Eve demonstrated how to fillet a fish. After positioning the fish on its side, she inserted the knife into the gills and then drew it firmly down; skimming along the length of the spine. She did this on both sides before then throwing the head and tail, still attached to the spine out over the sides of the docks and into the water. She scraped up the organs, pausing to comment on what the fish had eaten (making me glad that _I_ myself hadn’t eaten beforehand) and then tossed these away as well. Rad gulls were swarming to where she was liberally hurling all the cast off’s and looked to be having a jolly time snarfling them up.

“Now, I just wiggle my thumb under the skin here,” Eve said, holding the fillet firmly with one hand whilst positioning her thumb as described. “Grab a hold and peel the skin away.” She did this very quickly; leaving the remaining white fillet near spotless; except for a shiny silver patch, which I think must have been a natural discoloration of the fish’s flesh. She repeated the action on the second fillet and then tossed the skin aside as well. Satisfied, she gave each fillet a good wash with some purified water before holding them up for mine and Piper’s inspection. “And… there we go. Nothing to it.”

“She does realize that we could have gotten more meat off of the fish if she’d left it whole, right?” I side-barred to Hancock, as Piper naturally made a point of gushing over Eve’s nauseating efforts. He gave a lazy roll of his shoulders.

“Doesn’t want anyone gettin’ bones caught in their throat.” He explained, beaming down at Eve with that dozy, perpetually stoned smile loomed on his creviced features. I don’t think he could have looked any the prouder if he had tried. “Ain’t it somethin’ though, huh? Kid comes from a time when Mr Handy’s probably did most of the work for ‘em and she still ain’t squeamish about getting her hands dirty.”

“Yep. She’s our little gore splattered princess.” I said, sighing dreamily as Eve placed the fillets in some newspaper she had fetched out from nowhere and passed the small, stinky parcel into Piper’s possession.

“There.” She said, still with that same gentile smile that makes me suspect she might be a raging sadist under all the dopy eyed, cherry pie sweetness. “Throw that in the pan when you get back and have a bit of a nibble. We shouldn’t be too far behind with the rest. Right, John?”

“They’re biting pretty good at the moment.” Hancock confirmed and I noticed how the corners of his mouth had lifted when she had referred to him by his first name. Aww… Big Bad Mayor of Goodneighbor had a _crush._ Adorables. “Figure we’ll drag a few more in and then swing back to camp. Any excess we have we could make some fish jerky.”

“By feeding them coffee?” I cracked, thinking as soon as I had said it, that it sounded like one of Eve’s jokes. Sure enough, Eve was the only one to chortle, whilst Hancock and Piper just groaned their disapproval. Oh well, can’t win ‘em all.

And so, having completed our mission to further invade the personal privacy of Hancock and Evelyn, Piper and I returned from the front with the rewards we had reaped; two perfectly filleted and reportedly boneless fish fillets. I didn’t expect for them to go far and sure enough, once Codsworth had fried them up; Cait, Dogmeat and MacCready fell on them like a gang of starving Molerats. The Rad gulls down at the docks had more restraint than those three. Piper and I managed to snare just enough for a taste but it was little more than that.

It was good though; for what it was. The fish had a sweet flavor; surprising, given the state of the water it came from. The cooking process did a lot to work certain bugs and bacteria out but nothing was going to leeching out that radiation the fish all but fermented themselves in, day after day. All food came with this risk however; wasn’t much one could do about it but chalk up the Rad-X and bang in the Rad-Away when required.

Our appetites only the more stimulated from the small sampler we’d been provided; we waited with what little patience we had for Eve and Hancock’s return. Fifteen minutes had passed before we spotted them heading down the hill in our direction. Though it was plain to see, at least to trained eyes such as my own, that something had transpired since Piper and I had left them by the docks.

Both the bucket and fishing rod were missing for one and they weren’t trundling down the hill at a leisurely pace so much as _hurtling_ it; Eve pretty much sidewinding in an effort to watch behind them as they came. Their breaths were fogging out from between their lips with such force, they resembled a pair of old timey choo-choo trains leaving a station and the reason as to why became clear as they rounded back up by the campfire.

They were _soaked_ from head to toe, their shoes liberally squishing and squelching as they fairly schlepped to a halt by the encampment; dropping their firearms in favor of recovering. Eve was bent in two; palms pressed to her kneecaps as she attempted to catch her breath. Hancock, face puckered with immeasurable fury, cursed and thrashed his fist to the side.

“God fucking _damn it all to HELL!!”_ He yelled, ripping his hat off of his head and lashing it about to shake loose some of the water accumulated within it. He calmed just enough to go to Eve’s side and put a hand gently to her shoulder. “You okay, Munch?”

Eve, apparently still too bushed to speak, just flashed an OK sign with her fingers before returning her hand to her knees. Nick climbed to his feet, his synthetic features wrinkled with concern as Codsworth verily tore Eve’s bag apart, apparently on the hunt for something with which to dry his mistress.

“What the hell happened?” Nick queried, as Hancock dropped onto his ass; head tilted back as he puffed and panted like an encephalitic Brahmin. Eve all but collapsed beside him and Codsworth gingerly draped a blanket across both their shoulders and used his pincer extension to urge them closer to the fire. They shuffled in, Eve shedding her sodden gloves and holding out her trembling fingers in a bid to warm herself.

“Fucking… Deathclaw… out of… freakin’… nowhere.” Hancock huffed, voice trembling from the cold as he wriggled and writhed about; attempting to shed his jacket. He tossed it off to the side and accepted a towel from MacCready, which he immediately handed to Eve to use. “Asshole just came _hurtlin’_ out onto the dock from behind one of the outbuildings. Whole thing… c-collapsed out f-from under us.”

“I g-guess it w-w-was… after the f-f-food.” Eve commented, removing her hat and using the towel to dry her hair, neck and face. She was shaking so hard it was near impossible to understand what she was saying. “It was my f-f-fault… I was… cuh-cuh-cleaning the fish and all the gulls were g-gathering and… the Deathclaw must have realized there was something to… to-to eat. Shoulda just… b-buried the g-guts ‘stead of th-th-throwing it to the b-birds. I’m such a f-f-freakin’ d-d-dummy.”

“Ain’t your f-fault, Munch. Shit just h-happens sometimes.” Hancock stuttered, accepting now a second offered towel from Codsworth and using this one to dry himself off. MacCready, on the other hand, looked a lot less forgiving.

“So… you lost _everything_?”

Hancock sighed as he rubbed the back of his bald noggin’ and then unbuttoned a bit more of his shirt so as to have access to his chest. Lucky us. “Whole dock went out from under us, kid. Lost the fish, the bucket, the damn fishing pole. And the way that Deathclaw was smackin’ up the water, it’s a bleedin’ miracle we were able to get out with our weapons. And with all our limbs intact”

“Well we got a… a f-f-few scratches but… n-nothing m-major.” Eve clarified, working to ease her boots off of her feet. Each sock peeled away from her flesh like a sodden old slug and her toes looked pale and pruney. “Thought for sure that d-damn thing was g-g-gonna eat us for breakfast.”

“Nah. It’s doin’ just fine eatin’ _our_ breakfast.” Cait remarked, looking as hangry as MacCready but fond enough of Eve to not wanna hold her to account to it. Not… entirely anyway. “This fucking _blows_. That fish was freakin’ tasty and now what are we supposed to eat?”

“Well, first things first; these two need to dry off and get into some fresh clothes.” Nick stated, which allowed the rest of us to calm down and reassess that we had two very wet, cold people who were quickly approaching hypothermia. “Go and get in under shelter and get yourselves sorted. We’ll figure out breakfast in the meantime.”

So, Eve and Hancock shuddered and shook their way into the little shanty we had been calling home for the past eight hours or so, whilst the rest of us attempted to rally our functioning brain cells and collate what tinned food we still had at our disposal. When they finally reappeared; Eve dressed in jeans and a blue sweatshirt and Hancock wearing an almost carbon copy shirt and trousers ensemble, we had gathered a small and modest offering from which to choose. None of which looked particularly appealing. Poor Eve looked sorrier than ever and she sat there by the fire, with a look on her face as though she expected to be backhanded at any moment.

“I’m _so_ sorry.” She said, for like the five thousandth time. Hancock reached over and gave her knee a gentle, reassuring shake.

“Munch, come on; stop blaming yourself. _I_ didn’t stop and think about it either.”

“Yeah. It was a group effort in short-sightedness.” MacCready grumbled, just loud enough for Hancock to hear. He reached over, smacking his fist hard into the boys’ bicep, as Eve, groaning, sank her face down despondently into the bridge of her arms.

“Come on Mac, she feels bad enough as it is.” Piper admonished, though she also wore an expression that said that in spite of not blaming Cherub, she wished to blame _someone._ She settled on the most reasonable culprit. “Ya gonna blame anyone for ruining breakfast, blame the Deathclaw.”

“Stupid seafood loving Deathclaw.” I grunted, pushing my lips out to form what I’m sure was a very attractive pout. “At least we can rest easy, knowing that without Cherub around to fillet the fish for him that he’s more likely to choke on a fish bone. Vengeance shall be ours!”

“Breakfast should be ready soon everyone.” Codsworth called from over where he and Nick were hard at work cracking open tins and ladling the contents into steel bowls. My stomach, which had been growling spasmodically since partaking of that tiny taster of fish, immediately ceased its complaints. Apparently confused as to why the follow up to that meagre entrée did not smell nearly quite so appealing.

Piper groaned softly, raking her fingers back through her thick hair before reaffixing her Press hat in that just so-so jaunty angle. “Jesus… if we don’t get some fresh meat soon, I swear we’re gonna catch the scurvy.”

Eve had curled in on herself so dramatically she was starting to look a good contender for the Cirque Du Soleil. Her guilt driven contortions were just enough to make every male present envious, to say the least. Hancock gave the pill bug that had once been his budding love interest another consoling rub to the back.

 “What’s on the menu today, Nick?” He asked, raising his voice so as to be heard over Eve’s persistent mumbling self-admonishments. “And don’t say-”

“Longneck Lakowski’s canned meat.” Nick responded smoothly, which wrought a groan from Hancock that neatly matched Piper’s for disgusted disappointment. The only thing Hancock hated more than the Commonwealth produced canned meat was Cram. Perhaps we were all just getting spoiled on Eve and Codsworth’s cooking but there wasn’t much to be done for it when you were moving inland and game was harder and harder to come by.

“And that’s the way the day starts.” Hancock muttered, his hand drifting up to gently tussle and caress Eve’s still damp hair. It was enough to get her to lift her head from the bridge of her arms and rest her cheek there instead. “A run in with a Deathclaw, a freezing cold dip in the river, disgusting tinned meat and a dude wearing makeup leering at me from across the fire.”

 _Had_ I been leering? It was such a natural reflex for me that I was starting to lose track of when it was happening. I made a point of reaching up with my hand and pulling my lips and eyebrows down, so that I was now effectively glaring from behind my glasses. Surprisingly, this actually roused a smile from Hancock. Why was he in such a good mood? Maybe he figured Eve’s guilt would eventually drive her snivelling and desperate into his arms for comfort of the naked bouncy fun times variety? Or maybe her top had become see through when she’d fallen into the water or something. Whatever the case, I’d expected him to be at least a _little_ grumpier than this. Chems must have kicked in, I guess.

Nick looked over and smirked at our glum, food depleted visages. “Well it can only improve from here on out, right?” He remarked, taking some meagre stab at trying to cheer us up.

Cait groaned, throwing her hands up in the air. “Great, he’s jinxed it. Now we’re gonna be eaten by fuckin’ Mirelurks or some shit.”

“Luck of the Irish, huh?” I said, which earned me an unimpressed snort before I directed my attentions towards Hancock. “Seriously though, I didn’t think that a guy who has the munchies all the time would care about eating a tin of meat occasionally.”

Hancock stared off into the ether coolly as he used the hand that wasn’t currently occupied with rubbing itself over Eve’s shame heavy shoulders to pluck a Jet canister from his pocket. He gave it a shake before placing the mouth piece between his lips and distributing a few puffs back into his eagerly anticipating lungs. He sighed, closing his eyes and taking a moment to appreciate his dirty little druggy hit before tucking the canister away.

“Occasionally, I could handle.” He said, having decided I was worth replying to after all. “This is becoming like… an every second meal occurrence these days. I swear I can smell the stuff coming out of my pores.”

“That’s probably just your own skin rotting.” I said, feeling it was incumbent upon me to help ease his feelings of insecurity concerning what he likely felt was a hygienic failing on his part. “Wouldn’t worry about that too much.”

“Well just think, it could be worse.” Piper remarked, though the tell-tale wrinkle of her lip suggested she wasn’t at all convinced there could be a worse breakfast offering than what was currently gracing the menu. “We still have that tin of dog food and that old noodle cup.”

“Ugh…” I groaned, feeling my face wrinkle in disgust; an instinctual expression of which I had no control. “Dibs on the dog food.”

MacCready snorted with laughter as he poked at the fire with a long stick he had acquired from somewhere. “What? You seriously hate cup noodles that much?”

And of my few most honest responses I have ever given up under interrogation, this was one of them. “I don’t know what it is… just something about the taste and the texture. I feel like I’m slucking up something that’s been scraped off of the side of an old tanker.”

Eve twisted her head about on her arms; staring up at me from black smudged eyes blooming within a cracked rivulet of broken, dribbling foundation and smeared lipstick. A vision as always; deific to behold!

“So, when crunch time comes, you’re going to let someone else eat the noodles – the actual human food – and you’re going to eat the dog food?” She asked sceptically but with a smile gracing those stained lips which suggested she was starting to feel the slightest sprig of cheer from our light-hearted banter. I did what I was able to spur it on to greater heights; pressing my fingertips to the wall of my chest with much palaver.

“With a smile on my face and a song in my heart.” I verified, to which she at long last relented in her mental flagellation and risked a laugh. A acquiesce that allowed Hancock to relax some in turn.

“Fine.” She said, smirking as she shuffled closer to the fire; arms wrapped tight about her midsection. Hancock made something of a bold move in putting his own arm about her shoulder and giving her a rub. She didn’t seem to mind. “So long as you share it with Dogmeat.”

“He can have the kibbles and I will have the bits.”

“Grubs up everyone.” Nick declared, carrying three bowls on one arm in a delicate bridge that made me suspect he must have plied his trade as Diamond City’s noodle deliveryman for a while. “We’ve heated them over the fire. Probably tastes like shit, but at least it’ll warm you up.”

Being the gentleman we were, (and likely not at all eager to tuck in to the rancorous muck) MacCready, Hancock and myself waited until the girls had been served before accepting our own steaming dishes. Codsworth emptied one of the tins into the plastic bowl Eve had set out for Dogmeat; who sniffed at the congealed, inedible looking substance before twisting his head sidelong and offering up a canine baring sneeze. Couldn’t say I blamed him in the least for his less than flattering critique. The aroma of fire warmed, mystery meat drifted through the air with a pungent presumptuousness which didn’t titillate the senses so much as violently assault them with nostril hair burning brutality.

“Yay, offal.” I commented, with about as much excitement as one expresses over receiving their once annual prostate exam.

Hancock, looking about as miserable as a Ghoul could possibly look, stared out through the vapid fumes of his morning intake; mouth turned so far downward that the corners had damn near disappeared beneath his chin. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Eve leaned over her bowl, took a whiff of the contents and scrunched her nose in visible regret. “Jesus H Christ… it smells like it’s expired.”

Though having done little more than pry the tins open, Codsworth decided to take umbrage with our less than delighted responses to the proffered goop; the slides on his eye stalks zeroing in to form what I imagine was quite the indignant expression. In so far as what a Mr Handy can achieve.

“Well forgive me madam but we are working with pre-prepared produce.” He ever so snootily intoned. “I _can_ guarantee however that it has been perfectly preserved and locally packaged at Longneck Lukowski’s cannery.”

“You mean this stuff actually stank this bad _before_ they put it in the can?” Piper exclaimed, lifting up her bowl and turning it to the side so dramatically you would have expected it to come plunking out onto the ground. Disturbingly; it remained firmly ensconced within her bowl. Maintaining its shape against all odds. “It smells like they stuffed half of low tide in here along with the meat!”

“For Fucks sake… why does this stuff even exist?” Hancock added, jabbing at the… substance with his fork as though it were a magic wand that with any luck would morph the muck into something fit for human consumption. “Just looking at it makes me feel hopeless about life.” His despondent stare drifted down towards Eve, who appeared to be hunkered about her bowl and shuddering in the depths of despair. “Are you… _crying_ , Munch?”

Eve lifted her head, eyes pinched shut and cheeks tear stained. She sniffled as she wiped at her face with the sleeve of her sweater.

“No, it’s just the fucking smell is making my eyes water!” She said and with such irritation in her voice we knew it to be the truth of the matter. Eve could be such a sensitive soul it was sometimes difficult to tell when she was indeed experiencing real bouts of emotion. “It looks and _smells_ like something Satan shat out from the ninth circle of hell!”

Nick gave the very slightest of smiles as he turned his attention back to the fire; prodding the dying embers with the same stick that MacCready had only just abandoned.

“It’s times like this that I’m kind of relieved I don’t need to eat.” He said, an admission that did little to instil hope within the bosoms of those of us required to partake of sustenance. “But all of you will need energy for the trek to the drop off point. You need to get something into your stomachs. So, it’s either this or… cannibalism, I guess.”

Just to be clear, though this was a rather ironic statement on Nick’s behalf, it did not in fact lead to the inevitable and perhaps increasingly justified consumption of one our team mates. Though I’d be lying if I said that we all didn’t give in to a moment of genuine contemplation; looking up slowly from our unappetizing offering of stinky gristle riddled offcuts and carefully scrutinizing each and every available portion of the person sitting opposite us.

After a few moments of consideration, Hancock reached over and prodded his fingertip into one of Eve’s firm, jutting, _delicious_ looking biceps. “Munch is probably the least irradiated… I’d make sure to poison you bastards if you took a bite out of me.”

I raised one hand from my breakfast bowl and waved it in defence of my intentions. “Hey, no offense but I wouldn’t wanna try and eat your leathery puckered up skin, Hancock. I might as well just eat the bottom of my boot and be done with it.” 

Piper scoffed ironically, doing a fine job of moving her meat around her bowl without actually raising it an inch from the surface itself. “Well you’re obviously not too picky… you did just tell us that you were planning on eating dog food.”

“Only if there was nothing else left!” I exclaimed, feeling it was very important to make this distinction before people went and got the wrong idea about my preferences. Something that would have done MacCready the world of good after Hancock spooned him that one time. “Don’t try and make it sound like I’m hankering for the day I crack the tin and take that first big juicy bite of congealed marrowbone jelly and saturated fat.”

“Which doesn’t sound too different to taking a nibble out of Munch, anyhow.” Hancock teased, leaning sideways and rocking his shoulder against Eve’s. As was to be expected (given that he had pretty much suggested that she was carrying an excess of adipose tissue) Eve’s mouth widened into a perfect oval of offense and she dropped the tin of meat against her knee, swivelling on him with a genuinely pissed off expression.

“The fuck are you trying to say?!” She all but yelled, smacking the palm of her hand against his arm a few times. He pretended not to love every second. “You know, I bet that if I cooked you the right way, you would probably taste just like beef jerky, so don’t push your luck, buddy!”

MacCready loosed a disgusted moan from behind the tines of his fork; upon which was skewered a hunk of meat, so overcooked it possessed little difference to something you might retrieve from under the refrigerator. “Ugh… there is no way I’d wanna be chewing on overcooked, leathery strips of _Hancock_. And even if I was that desperate, he would somehow find a way to fight back even after he was dead.”

I laughed as I fiddled about with my own meal; trying to form it into some shape or pattern that I might otherwise find appealing. “Yeah, he’d get caught in your throat and choke you to death. Or give you explosive diarrhoea.”

“Which would be fitting revenge for all the times that _you’ve_ given me the shits, Dipstick.” Hancock grunted, which naturally set the rest of us to laughing. Tired, begrudged, somewhat concerned for our imminent welfare laughter but laughter all the same. Nick brought it to a close with a patient wave of his silvery hand. 

“All right you lot, just play nice, we have a long journey ahead of us and the less squabbling the better.”

“We’re not squabbling Nick,” I said, spearing my fork back into my breakfast (it remained upright with little effort). “We’re simply having an enlightened discussion on the pro’s and pitfalls of cannibalizing your companions in times of great need. I mean, what’s the point in having pals along on an outing if you can’t just every once in a while threaten to devour them?”

Eve stared thoughtfully up towards the overcast sky; poking at a piece of meat in her bowl without really taking it in. “You know,” She said, her tone as pragmatic as I had ever heard it. And, as such, terrifying. “It wouldn’t be too difficult to lure one of the fellas into a snare. All we would need to do is put a bear trap down between the sleeping bags, lean over during the night and say in a sexy voice ‘I want you inside of me’.” She slapped one of her frostbitten hands to her knee and made a ‘Eureka’ approximate gesture. “Never see it coming.”

Whilst Hancock spent a few moments recovering from Eve having said the words ‘I want you inside of me’ (and forming in depth visualisations of what this would entail no doubt) Piper simply laughed and tossed a small stick in Eve’s direction.

“Yeah, if it comes down to that, you and Cait can be the ones to initiate the plan. I’ll just help you spit roast them after.”

Though they weren’t likely to see it, I blinked my eyes innocently from behind my glasses. “But now you’ve gone and told us your whole plan, we can anticipate how to outwit it.”

“Yeah, it’ll backfire on you a bit if we manage to dodge the bear trap, won’t it?” Hancock added, somehow managing to drag himself back from his no doubt lurid and highly detailed fantasies. “Then you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.”

“Which is _you_ getting spit roasted instead of us.” MacCready interjected, the result of which was much screeching, flailing of hands and general reactions of disgust. Cait even threw a chunk of her food across the fire at him; which he managed to dodge at the very last second.

“I cannot believe you just went there!” Piper yelled.

“I know,” MacCready intoned, his wide eyes evidence of his own surprise. “I actually grossed _myself_ out with that one.”

“That’s a thought and an image that I will never burn out of my mind, MacCready.” Eve groaned, placing one of her rapidly purpling hands against her forehead and caressing the lines that had appeared there. “Shit is it too early in the day to start drinking?”

Hancock jerked his thumb back over his shoulder; gesturing in the vague direction of the shanty and all our accumulated belongings.

“Gotta bag of feel good times and memory suppressants at your disposal, Munch. Just leave enough for me to be able to burn out my brain cells with after.”

“Thanks. I’m half-tempted to jab myself with some Calmex, if only to survive breakfast.” Eve grumbled, though she didn’t make so much as a move to get up and away from her cosy perch by the fire. She lightly shook the smeared tines of her fork at Hancock’s chin. “You know, it’s _your_ fault we had to hear that. I wouldn’t have felt the need to try and get revenge on you with a bear trap if you hadn’t made me your first choice for dinner.”

“Well he did nickname you, Munch.” Piper stated, making as little progress with her breakfast slop as the rest of us. In so saying, none at all. “Maybe he’s been psychologically preparing you these past few months.”

“So, what you’re saying is that he’s wanted to _eat_ Eve for the past few months?” Cait piped up from across the fireplace, rousing immature laughter from both myself and MacCready. Hancock smirked slightly, proof enough that this notion appealed to him a great deal more than breakfast currently did. Eve’s already rubicund cheeks flushed darker still, though she made a concerted effort to pretend as though she wasn’t as embarrassed as she plainly was.

“Oi!” She snapped, plucking out a piece of god knows what from her bowl and pitching it across the fire at Cait. It splattered the side of her arm wetly; peppering gravy juice against her forehead. “I know _exactly_ what you sick bastards are getting at there and you can knock it off!”

“Yeah, who I may or may not want to eat and in what manner is my business.” Hancock remarked coolly, a response which Eve clearly found unhelpful because it earned him another smack in the arm. “Oi, stop that or I’ll jam this meat into your face and make even more of a mess of it.”

Nick raised his hands and used them to form a very definitive T shape. “Come on everyone, stop stalling for time and just eat up.” He said, drawing our unwitting attentions back to the glop in our laps. “Hopefully you’ll find something better to eat while we’re travelling today, so you can all take a break from the tinned stuff. In the meantime, you ain’t got much of a choice. Need to put fuel in your tanks, you wanna get anywhere.”

Well, there was no arguing with reality; much as I’m sure we would have liked to, so without further ado we all took a collective deep breath of the cool morning air and forced our shaky hands to deposit that first, quivering, uninviting spoonful between our lips. What followed was a spectacular transformation of our collective expressions as we swilled the jelly riddled, fatty, stringy meat produce around in our mouths. Mine did not seem to want to make any progress towards the back of my throat and I had to fight down a genuine retch as my body actually attempted to reject what I was forcing upon it.

“Oh my God…” Piper whimpered, having been the first to succeed in forcing down an (albeit it modest) spoonful. “It tastes like… something that’s gone rotten at the bottom of a Raider’s lunch box.”

I pitched out my chest, pinched my nose and relaxed my throat muscles. Tried to fool my brain into believing that I was gobbling down some delicious trail stew; just like Eve had made a week or so back. With my sense of smell inhibited, I was able to hinder my taste buds enough to get the vile lump down but it immediately set my eyes to watering. Dear God… what Gypsy had I accidentally killed in a past life to deserve such torment as this?

“Is it too late to authorize my last will and testament?” I choked, only tentatively convinced that the spoonful wasn’t about to make a reappearance onto the ground. It tasted of far too much salt and had a slimy, gelatinous quality that made me suspect I would have been better off eating the dog food. I failed to see little difference between the two.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, it can’t be that bad, surely?” Codsworth huffed as he used his reverse vacuum function to try and dry Eve and Hancock’s saturated clothes.

“Says you; the robot who doesn’t have to eat it!” Cait shot back. I noticed that she, in spite of being the tough as nails cage fighter she was, hadn’t gotten through more than only _half_ of her spoonful. Guess she was used to the finer things in life.

And so, because we clearly lack common sense and hated ourselves, we continued eating. Very slowly. With lots of groans, declarations of disgust, back burps and reflux. It was only when we were forcing ourselves to scrape out the very last of the gunk from the bowls that we were alerted to a rather alarming sound from nearby; namely, Dogmeat being spectacularly sick around the side of the shanty.

“For fucks sake…” Hancock managed to exclaim whilst fighting back another meaty burp. “Even the pooch is losing his guts!”

At the sight of her precious darling being so ill, Eve naturally went to water. “Oh, poor baby!” She all but wailed, literally pitching the blanket off of herself and sprinting over to where Dogmeat was now curled on his side, softly whimpering. She gathered him up in her arms and pulled most of his upper body onto her lap so that she could rub his stomach. You could just about bottle the jealousy that Hancock was exhuming. _Au de GhoulEnvy._ “Come here, sweetheart. Is your stomach all upset?”

I raised a hand from where it had been previously clutched about my breakfast bowl and used one finger to point back down towards myself.

“Hey Cherub, can you come and rub mine when you’re done?”

Eve huffed ironically, her palm continuing to make soothing circles against Dogmeat’s belly. “Only if you rub mine in return.”

“Gosh darnitt, I am SO not looking forward to the rest of today.” MacCready groaned, placing his bowl down and running his gloved palms up over his forehead and into his spiky nest of hair. “Not if the dog’s already throwing up.”

Nick, staring stiff upper lipped at Dogmeat, did his utmost to reassure the rest of us. “Look, perhaps Dogmeat just got a particularly bad… tin.” He said and I think even he was having a hard time believing his own Brahmin Manure. “There’s no reason to think that anyone else is going to get sick. I’m sure it’s going to be okay.”

Sidebar: … It was _not_ okay. It was the absolute, unequivocal definition of _not_ okay.

Why is that, Doe? Well, allow me to elucidate. You see, it started out _okay._ After washing our tins, packing up our belongings and giving Dogmeat long enough to recover, we paired up and got our rears back on the road. Nick took point as usual, striding proud and Ranger like across the barren expanse of the unpredictable, unaccommodating Wasteland. Being so tall and having such long legs meant that the rest of us needed to scuttle reasonably quickly to keep up. Two steps to his one, that sort of thing.

Eve and Hancock followed along behind him; weapons out and tittering away almost non-stop as they went. There was rarely a quiet moment between the pair of them when we were ‘on the road’ such as it was. They were always nattering like a couple of old biddies on a park bench. Dogmeat trotted lackadaisically at Eve’s side; spurred on gently by little pets and strokes of her hand here and there. He _must_ have been ill, given that he would normally be making every effort to walk _between_ her and Hancock.

Piper and I came next, with Cait and MacCready behind us and Codsworth watching our sixes at the rear. Sometimes, if our circumstances necessitated it; the group would break apart and we would move at a distance in our chosen pairs. Especially useful if you were attempting to sneak up on someone or some _thing._

So, things were relatively quiet and uneventful. Until, I was overtaken by a pervasive and undeniable need to offload a bottom burp.

The potted meat had not settled well in my guts. It had in fact seemed to have dedicated most of its run time to manufacturing some sort of biochemical gas in my large intestine. Which was rapidly expanding like a hot air balloon and putting enormous pressure on the lower quadrant of my body. I felt like I was about to drift off up into the sky like the Brotherhood’s Prydwnn.

I was faced with a dilemma; one that has flummoxed the male species for centuries. To fart or not to fart. Or more specifically I suppose _where_ to fart. You need to remember that I was currently in the enviable position of being in a travelling party which included three beautiful women. The last thing I wanted to do was skunk all over them and ruin any chances I might have had for propagating the species.

The answer was clear; I would need to relegate myself to the back of the group. I started to reduce my speed, walking in a kind of stilted slow motion whilst keeping my butt cheeks so tightly clenched together you could have cracked off a bottle cap between them. Piper didn’t seem to catch the hint; that I was trying to subtly drift away for the good of the colony and slowed down so as to keep pace with me. Looks like I would need to be more obvious than this.

“I’m uh… just gonna walk at the… back of the group, for a while.” I said, gesturing over my shoulder with my thumb. Piper cocked a brow, clearly confused as to why I suddenly felt the overwhelming need to go and hang out with Codsworth but not seeing any sense in arguing with it.

“Um… okay then.” She said, watching as I slowly duck walked backwards; slipping around an equally confused Cait and MacCready and side stepping so as to allow Codsworth to drift past. Ah, free at last.

To celebrate, I carefully relaxed my colon, inch by gradual inch and gradually allowed some of the painful, built up gas to escape. I sang a loud and happy song to mask the sound, using my hand to wave the stench back as far behind the group as possible. Ah, felt _so_ much better.

And it looked as though I wasn’t the only one currently experiencing such discomfort. No less than a minute later, I was joined by Hancock; who gave a jilting nod of his chin in recognition. The fact that he had moved from Eve’s side was proof enough of his predicament and I smirked as I leaned in as close as I dared.

“Sore belly?” I asked, waving away yet another of my own foul-smelling deposits. Hancock’s lips twisted to form an almost toddler like expression of petulance.

“Figured it was better to come back here than risk crop-dusting the Reporter.” He remarked, staring back up the line of the group to where Eve and Piper were now trotting side by side; chatting away about goodness knows what. Girly things like periods and unicorns, most likely. “You just _know_ she’d devote like a two-page article to _Goodneighbor’s Mayor and his Intestinal Irritation_ or some shit like that.”

“Well, you had to save yourself.” I said, nodding seriously, all the while continuing to slowly deflate myself. I was starting to feel the slightest bit better, though there was a somewhat suspicious thick bulge in the base of my throat. The kind of feeling you get that precedes nausea. But given the sort of food we had just imbibed, I could only assume this was natural.

A good half hour passed uneventfully; if you didn’t count Hancock and I farting away at the back of the group, that is. I think the others had cottoned on to what it was we were doing, but at least we had the gentlemanly decorum to take ourselves away from the lady folk before offloading our gastric distress. MacCready just up and let rip, taking out both Codsworth and myself in the same wave. Codsworth’s sensors weren’t quite so sensitive as my poor nose and the rank smell only further exacerbated that ever present feeling of nausea that lingered in the pit of my stomach. I would have liked to have chased after the cheeky bastard and lodged my foot in his stanky butt but I was feeling far too woozy by that stage. Hancock did however give him a clip around the ear for his efforts.

And then… it happened. That thing you hear about from others but you never _think_ will happen to you. You remind yourself that you’re too young. You’ve got so much more life left to live. Places to go, things to see, people to meet. The world is your oyster and so on and so forth.

But none of us are safe. None of us are immune. A fact I learned all too well, when, after feeling that I had very carefully staggered my most recent flatulation, that control was violently wrested from my hands. There was a wet squeaking sound, that coincided with what I knew in my heart of hearts _wasn’t_ sweat running down the back of my thigh.

“Oh _no._ ” I squeaked, my beautifully made up face no doubt struck by a rictus of incomparable horror. Hancock made the mistake of laughing, well _snorting_ rather and was justly rewarded. His expression morphed to form a matching set with my own. Our eyes locked; the seriousness of our situation dawning on us dramatically. Now, _now…_ it was a race against time.

We shucked our duffle bags with a deftness and dexterity we might never have possessed if the situation hadn’t been so dire. No longer unnecessarily weighed down, the two of us bolted to the front of the line; thighs and ass cheeks pinched so tightly together that the only thing in motion were our lower legs. We made a bee line for Nick; who carried the groups entire collection of toilet rolls. (An arrangement we quickly amended, following _this_ little situation). The Synth loosed a yelp of shock as we pounced, tugging him into a near backwards U as we wrenched open the neck of the duffle and dove our collective arms inside. I was the first to land upon a roll and with a triumphant yell, I yanked it free and pretty much launched myself over the nearby embankment; heading for the thickest copse of trees available to me.

I’d barely buried myself two feet within the undergrowth before the cramps became overwhelming. I fell to my knees, fingernails snapping and splintering as I scratched desperately at the dry earth; trying to make some sort of indentation. It really wasn’t going to plan and I was running out of time; the soil simply had too much clay in it.

Giving up on the notion of providing a burial plot for my breakfast, I dove for the button and zipper of my yellow slacks; fumbling about as the sweat poured down my neck from the hot flushes seizing my body. I got them undone and swivelled, yanking my trousers and briefs down to my knees and grabbing hold of two low lying branches as a means of steadying myself. Not a moment too soon.

I’m sure most of you have had Gastro at some point in your lives. Bad enough when you’re sitting snug on the toilet in your own bathroom. Now imagine being out in the middle of the _Wasteland._ Squatting above a not really there hole in the earth, as your asshole morphs itself into the biological equivalent of an atomic leaf blower. I could only pray that my screaming was drowning out the sounds that my body was making because _god damn._ There seemed to be no end to it. And what came out of me burned like mother fucking _lava_.

If this wasn’t enough, the smell was enough to drive what remained of breakfast up out of my stomach. I had to lean forward to avoid hitting my knees; vomit splattering just offside of my shoes. Cramps seized my stomach like a vice and my body was so slick with sweat I felt like I’d been hosed down with cooking oil. I was having so many hot flushes, I started questioning whether men could go through menopause. Early onset menopause, at that.

Needless to say, I can laugh about it now. It’s like when you go camping or whatever and you get rained out and have a miserable fucking time. Then you tell the story to friends later and you laugh your heads off. Same sort of situation. I lost track of time down there in my little copse of desecrated trees. Seasons changed while I squatted there; exploding from both ends like a double ended party popper. I didn’t think there could _be_ so much stuff inside one person. Just when I thought I was done, the heaves would resurface and with every retch, my butt was triggered off as well. It was a relationship marred by peer pressure and mutual reinforcement. _You can do it!_

After a while, I thought it was over. I couldn’t bring anything else up and nothing else seemed to want to go down. I took a few shaky breaths, risked taking one hand away from the tree branch to pull my glasses off of my face. I wiped my eyes, which were burning with a combination of tears, mascara and regret. I put the glasses back on and ever so carefully reached for the toilet paper.

Nope.

Another five minutes of excruciating acid discharging pain later, I finally managed to stopper the flow. Even wiping myself off made me squeal like a dying rabbit; my ass was so red raw it had actually started to _bleed._ I used more than half of the entire roll; cleaning up my face as well as my… nether regions. Grateful in the very least that I had avoided soiling my clothing and shoes. I covered up the mess I had made as best as I was able and prayed that no one should _ever_ have the misfortune to come across this tableau of misery and repugnance.  

I crawled from the copse on my hands and knees; my body rent of so much moisture I no doubt resembled Hancock. I managed to stagger to my feet and carefully, tentatively eased my way back up the embankment; my thighs so far apart it looked as though I were trying to do the splits whilst walking.

When I arrived back at the place of parting, I was hardly surprised to find the only people remaining were Nick, Codsworth and Dogmeat. Nick was helping Dogmeat to drink some water; the pooch having all but collapsed onto his side. There was a puddle of sick and canine excrement (I can only hope) nearby. Codsworth was collecting up stray toilet rolls and returning them to Nick’s duffle.

Hancock was the next to return. He cut a tragic figure; slouching up the opposing hill, wobbling as he came and with the whites of his eyes showing. Not a shred of toilet paper had survived from his own… ahem, evacuation. He made towards Nick and Codsworth with one trembling fist raised, looking as though he very much wanted to punch them but was too weak to remain on his feet. He tottered over like a toddler and landed hard on his butt, which drove a pained scream out from the very core of his tortured being. He rolled over onto his stomach, groaning and flopping about like a beached sea creature. I lay on my side nearby, cheek pressed to the inside of my bicep; lip quivering miserably and wishing I had an icy pop to slide down the back of my pants.

One by one, the others came staggering back; sweaty, disheartened and traumatized. Cait was so pale she’d gone a sort of ‘off-white’ colour. Eve was the last to return, slowly traipsing up the same embankment from which I’d come, with her sweatshirt tugged down as far over her thighs and backside as she could manage. She had no pants or shoes on and she was bawling like a baby that had been dropped on the floor.

“I… didn’t get my… stuff out of the way in time!” She sobbed, her wails only worsening as the rest of us laughed as softly as we dared without running the risk of messing our own drawers. “Shut up! It’s not _funny!!_ ” She yelled, which only made us want to laugh more. Even Hancock, who would normally have jumped at the chance to have been of use to a sobbing pants free Eve wasn’t able to drag himself up off of the ground to be of help. And he was perhaps laughing harder than any of us. Ah, true love. The ability to laugh at your partner when they’ve gone and shit all over themselves. I can only pray that I’m lucky enough to find that someday.

Codsworth was kind enough to ferry over some fresh knickers and trousers for Eve to scurry away and climb inside of. He was going to go in search of her other clothing but Eve advised that there was simply no rescuing it. It belonged now to the Wasteland. Perhaps one day, some unfortunate Scavenger would run across them and ask themselves why someone should throw away a perfectly good pair of trousers. And then they would pick them up and get the shock of their life. To be a Bloatfly on the tree when _that_ happens!

It took roughly around an hour for most of us to recover; slurping water and attempting to get our energy back. A few members of the group had to run off for another round of double ended combustion during this time; including Piper, who looked to be sicker than the rest of us combined. After a long enough ‘safety period’ had been observed, Nick risked getting us up and moving again; having located a relatively close by settlement on Eve’s Pipboy. More of an outpost, really. With a small motel that the owners absolutely, unequivocally barred us from using. They weren’t sure what we were sick with, you see and couldn’t risk contaminating the other visitors or the staff. Even when we offered to put on diapers, wrap ourselves in plastic sheeting and remain tucked away in our rooms, far from the general populace. No, we were instead quarantined to a currently unoccupied house on the relative outskirts. Hey, it had running water, a toilet, a fire place and three rooms. Relative luxury, compared to what we had grown accustomed to. And a refrigerator, into which all our toilet paper was spectacularly upended. Soon as one got cold enough, I had plans to straddle it like a pack Brahmin.

Whilst MacCready planted himself on the toilet for the near foreseeable future, the rest of us sat around with our heads in buckets. Praying that nothing worse than a good old fashioned upchuck was on the agenda for the evening. None of us had managed to eat anything and we were barely keeping down the water that Nick and Codsworth continually foisted upon us.

Piper lay closest to the fire on a bedroll; cold but not wanting to risk getting her legs all tangled up in her sleeping bag if she needed to run for the toilet again. Or bathroom sink at this stage, given that MacCready had failed to put in an appearance for over fifteen minutes. Her face was waxy and her eyes sunken in her skull. She was too weak to sit up on her own and if she needed to vomit, Nick or one of us would have to quickly grab and lift her, so that she wouldn’t barf all over her bedding.

Hancock sat with his back to the threadbare sofa that occupied the centre of the room; hat absent and head so deeply interred within his bucket it looked as though he were about to dive into it at any moment. Amidst an assortment of retches, gags and other lovely sounding vocalizations, he debated with Nick over the logistics of forward advancement.

“I’m thinkin’… couple of days. At least.” He groaned, glancing up from the bucket just long enough to focus bleary eyed on the Synth. His already radiation damaged skin looked as though it were just barely clinging to his bones. “Reporter’s gonna need some recoup time and if we ain’t eatin’, we ain’t gettin’ our strength back either.” His shoulders suddenly lurched and his cheeks swelled as another violent gag seized his body. He went face down, back into the bucket and vomited for both accuracy and distance. After spitting a few times and pulling himself together, he returned to the surface world with a groan and wiped his hand over his sweat speckled forehead. “Besides, you think it’s bad travelling with a ghoul in the rain, you do not want to be travelling with one who’s shitting himself every couple of feet.”

“Oh, come on now, surely you are exaggerating just the slightest bit, are you not?” Codsworth piped up from where he was draping damp clothing upon a homemade clothes horse by the fire.

Cait, who was swathed upon the sofa with a bucket clutched to her chest like a beloved childhood teddy bear, lurched up in indignation and thrust a finger in Hancock’s direction.

“Doe threw up in Hancock’s _hat_!!”

“He _threw_ _up_ in it!!” Hancock echoed with about as much genuine distress as I had ever head the Ghoul convey. “I LOVE that hat and because you two circuit boards refused to listen to us, it’s _RUINED_!! I’ve lost a perfectly good hat and now my head is going to get wind burned and sun burned and I’ll have heat stroke on top of everything else!” He ceased his rant just long enough to vomit a second time, waiting for the retching to cease before scowling with venomous intent over the lip of his bucket. “I hope you’re _happy_.”

Nick did indeed look genuinely apologetic for his part in the group poisoning but made a stab at standing up for himself all the same. “I am sorry but I thought that you were all just whining for the sake of whining.” He said, dipping a face washer in a bowl of water before then wringing it out and running it gently across Piper’s forehead. Her eyes fell shut and a soft murmur eased from the nadir of her throat. “When you think about it, the likelihood of you all complaining about something has a much higher percentage of occurring than my feeding you spoilt food does.”

Piper groaned torpidly, as she slowly rolled onto her back; giving Nick better access to the stretch of her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed and in comparison to the rest of us, she actually looked feverish. I was starting to worry that whatever additives had been in the can was something that she was specifically allergic to.

“Where did those cans even come from?” She asked, using one trembling hand to pull her sweat drenched hair away from her face. “Were they stored incorrectly or something?”

Nick gave a small shrug, lips twisted into a grimace. “I’m not sure. We got them off of a trader, so there’s a small chance they might have been heated up once before and then simply not used. Reheating it would explain the food poisoning.” He jerked a metallic thumb in Hancock’s direction. “It can’t have been radiation or Hancock wouldn’t have been affected.”

“I’m so grateful for being able to share in this beautiful bonding experience with everyone.” Hancock blearily intoned before dropping his head back into his bucket with all the grace of a puppet whose strings had been cut. He jerked to attention as the front door swung inward and Eve staggered in, carrying Dogmeat in her arms as though he were a small child in need of a nap. The old pooch was laying it on thick too; chin resting up against her shoulder and whining pitifully

“How’s Dogmeat doing?” Nick asked, petting the side of Piper’s neck with the face washer. Eve groaned as she set Dogmeat down gently by the fire and all but collapsed onto the sofa beside Cait. She sprang up with a pained yell and whimpered softly as she rubbed at her backside.

“God damn… I think I’ve gone and given myself haemorrhoids.” She sobbed, not seeming to care at all that she was perhaps sharing more information with us than we ever needed to know. I could hear Hancock’s echoey chuckles emanating from within the confines of his bucket. “Oh, stop laughing at me, John! Anyway, I’ve managed to get some water into him and he’s kept that down so far. Speaking of which…”

Still grumbling complaints the whole while, Eve toddled over to the small, grot smeared refrigerator that was humming and ticking suspiciously in the corner and fetched out a few tins of Purified water that were cooling in there. As an afterthought, she tugged something out from the vegetable compartment that had been folded in two. A pillow.

She passed the tins around to everyone before placing the refrigerated pillow down on the floor beside Hancock and slowly lowering herself onto it with such huffing and puffing dramatics, you would think she was giving birth again. Once she was settled, she took a look around; tapping one spare tin against the side of her shin.

“Is Mac back on the throne again? I have some water for him too.”

Piper gestured weakly towards the bathroom with her head. “Yeah, he ran back in about fifteen minutes ago. We’re keeping our distance.”

“I thought I could hear him screaming Psalm 23 at one point… you know, “Yea though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death” and all that.” I remarked, gazing wistfully up from the swirling contents of my bucket. “I can’t imagine the Bard himself giving a more passionate recital.”

Hancock’s beady black eye glared out over the lip of his bucket with the intensity of an Assaultron’s forehead mounted laser. “Well, he won’t be the only one dead once I’m sure I can do any sort of physical activity without disgracing myself.”

Eve paused in the midst of cracking open her water and snapped her fingers. “Oh, speaking of Doe and… subsequently killing Doe, the lady running the outpost is letting me soak your hat in her sink.” She returned her attentions to her water, peeling back the top and carefully sipping the contents before continuing. “I gave it a bit of a scrub but then I started spewing again, so I’m just going to leave it to sit in the soapy water for a while. Hopefully that’ll get the smell out.”

“Nothing will scrub those memories out.” Hancock groaned, wrapping both arms about his bucket and all but draping himself upon it. He rocked backwards and forwards like a miserable metronome, eyes glazed and unseeing. “How am I gonna put that thing back on my head knowing what foul thing has befallen it?”

Eve gave him a somewhat reproachful look as she gingerly reached across to snag one of the spare buckets that had been provided for our use. “ _Well Gee, thanks for cleaning my hat Eve, especially at the risk of both vomiting on yourself and befouling your pants at any given second…_ ” She said, sarcastically mimicking Hancock’s scratchy drawl. She smacked his shoulder with the bucket before perching it between her knees and leaning her elbows on it, brows furrowed in annoyance. “You could be just a _little_ grateful. I had to hold onto the sink just to keep myself from crumpling up like an old tissue.”

Hancock sighed, rubbing the bridge of his… nose stub, eyes pinched shut. “I _am_ grateful, Munch. Thankyou. It’s just that right now I’m –“ He heaved again and though nothing came out, his body decided to kick him with a few more of these guttural lurches all the same. “-hating life… and everything in it.”

Naturally, his own gagging was enough to set Eve off and she pulled the bucket closer to her face, bringing up the water she had only just managed to fetch down into her stomach. “Ughh… I’m gonna die…” She groaned, trying to keep the longer strands of hair out of her sick with the one hand that wasn’t holding the bucket.

Cait moaned softly as she curled up helplessly into the arm of the sofa. “Take me with you.”

Eve wiped at her mouth and then dabbed at the corners of her eyes, which had teared up. “God dammit, I was fine until you did that. Hancock! Sympathetic gag reflex, _ugh_!”

“I don’t know how I’ve got any vomit left in me…” Piper croaked, eyes blinking dazedly up at Nick as he continued trying to bring her temperature down. “How can there be so much stuff inside one person? All this stomach acid is burning my throat…”

I stared down into my pail at something indistinguishable that was floating amongst all the liquid I had since evacuated. “I think there’s a piece of gum in here that I swallowed when I was a kid…”

Eve glared around at the collective gathering; her expression nothing short of scandalized. “ _You_ guys are complaining? You weren’t the ones who had to wash off Dogmeat’s backside with purified water and a roll of toilet paper when he diarrhoead all over his bottom fur and tail!”

“‘Bottom fur?’” Cait queried, clearly not as used to Eve’s habit of simply making up words and phrases on a whim. I think my favourite to this day remains ‘Jesus jump down on me’, shortly thereafter followed by ‘he’s not the brightest apple in the banana.’

“Clearly, it’s the fur around his bottom.” Eve explained, looking annoyed that this wasn’t plainly obvious to the rest of us non-Fargo descended idiots. “Which is going to be getting a trim when I’m fully recovered!”

Hancock sighed and reached over to lightly pet the back of her wrist. “Munch, much as I would have loved to have been involved in that exercise, I was far too busy projectile vomiting from the smell of it. Besides, you’re a Mom, we figured you could handle it.”

“That doesn’t mean I found it pleasant!” Eve exclaimed before then hiccupping, turning back to her bucket and offing another spurt of fluid into the interior. She let out a prolonged sulky sounding sob when she was done. “Nick, help me!!”

Nick chuckled patiently from his bedside vigil. “I’m sorry Evelyn but I don’t think there’s much I can do. You just have to be patient and wait until it passes.”

Now it was my turn to offload another burst of awfulness into my bucket. The retches came from deep down inside; so far in fact that I wondered if chunks of my intestine were ripping free with each violent heave.

“If we survive that long…” I burped, using some toilet paper to wipe spit and muck from the corner of my mouth. “One more of these and I’m going to start turning inside out.”

Eve moaned melodramatically, sinking sideways so that her face was pressed into Hancock’s very receptive shoulder. “This is worse than the time I had gastro… but at least I had my own toilet then and I wasn’t wandering around the wasteland where indoor plumbing is at a premium!”

“When I was twenty I went on a bender that lasted two days and I drank so much, my stomach had to be pumped…” Hancock exposited, running a hand back over the bald crown of his pate. Staring off into a past I gathered was just about as patchy as his skin. “I couldn’t move for three days afterwards and just the smell of food made me spit up.” He pointed down at his bucket. “This is worse.”

Codsworth huffed and spun on us, two of his distensions swivelling down to plant on what might have otherwise been hips. “Well, I _did_ apologize, what more do you want? How was I supposed to know that the meat would do this much harm?”

“The fact that we were all screwing up our noses and exclaiming ‘Ew, this tastes like shit’ should have been a strong indicator!” Hancock railed back, with an expression that suggested he would very much like to pitch the contents of his bucket all over Codsworth and Nick. If he had any sort of faith in his rectal muscles, that is.

“Well, none of you thought to question it yourselves! Do you always just blindly accept what is offered to you?”

Eve glared stony eyed and unforgiving from the crook of Hancock’s shoulder. “One of your functions is to preserve the wellbeing of the family you’re assigned to! I remember reading that in your manual, I am _not_ making this shit up! And this is how you thank me for assembling you? By poisoning me and everyone I’m travelling with?”

“Mum, please try not to work yourself up, you know how that plays havoc with your blood pressure.” Codsworth stated, genuine concerning marring his robotic voice. “And I wasn’t able to unearth your ‘ _Calming Whale Songs for Trying Times’_ Holotape after the bombs fell, so we’re short on options as to what to do if you start having one of your dizzy spells. I suppose I could try to find you something that vibrates if you think that might cheer you up a little…”

“Do you want me to shoot him?” Hancock not quite whispered to Eve. For a moment, she looked as though she was seriously considering it. Her face had turned such a vibrant shade of puce I was worried she much rupture a blood vessel at any moment.

“I don’t know if it’s worth shooting him or using the bullets to put all of us out of our misery…”

“I dunno… it’ll give me _some_ pleasure before I die.”

Eve chuckled, smiling endearingly at Hancock’s pouty face before reaching over and rubbing the top of his bald head. “Awww.” She cooed, looking like for all intents and purposes that she was petting some adorable fluffy kitten rather than a perverted, vomit speckled Ghoul. Guess love knows no bounds.

A door clicked shut in the background and MacCready at long last emerged from the bathroom, carrying a bucket beneath his gray, shell-shocked features and walking somewhat bow legged. Eve stared up at him, lightly smirked and adopted a stereotypically cowboy like accent.

“Well howdy partner. You been ridin’ Brahmin all day?”

MacCready proffered up a painful groan as he carefully lowered himself down onto the sofa beside Cait. “Feels like I’ve been _molested_ by a Brahmin… Jesus… you would think I gobbled down sulfuric acid for my last meal.” He used a spare shred of toilet paper to wipe the sweat from his forehead and the back of his neck. It came back as bedraggled as some sad little butterfly that had only just managed to lug itself out of a puddle. “Glad we have a working fridge in the settlement so we can store our toilet paper in there. If we were stuck out in the Wasteland, we’d probably have to be using prickly leaves to wipe ourselves.”

“Jesus Christ.” Cait hissed, her nose wrinkling in anticipatory disgust. “I need to go use the toilet meself but I’m not sure how safe I feel now that _you’ve_ been in there for a good half hour.” She jabbed a finger viciously into MacCready’s shoulder. “And if you tell me that you were reading Grognak the Barbarian for the last twenty-five minutes, I swear I’m going to insert this bucket in you.”

MacCready shrugged uncaringly. “Save me some running back and forth at least. And I wish I could have relaxed long enough to read a comic… I only had strength enough to pray to whatever it is up there to let me die a quick death.”

“Now that would be a hell of a way to go.” Nick chuckled, dropping the face washer back into the bowl and swirling it about like an aimless jellyfish flowing with the tides. “Excreting yourself to death on the toilet.”

Eve waggled a finger in MacCready’s direction. “Just so you know Mac, none of us would be going in there to retrieve your body for burial. We’d just wrap some chains across the door, sprinkle some flowers around the building and hang a cross from the handle.”

“Hey, so long as there’s a heartfelt rendition of ‘Old Lang Sign’ afterwards, I’m good.”

“Even that sounds like too much work.” Hancock muttered, casting another filthy glance in my direction. “My hat deserves a funeral like that.”

I hiccupped before casting off yet more fluid I sure I couldn’t afford to lose, into the bucket. “Ugh… Listen… I told you that I was sorry about that! But it was the only container I could grab in time!”

“You were carrying a _bag_ , which you _dropped_ so that you could grab my hat instead! And why did you even need to vomit into something? We were in the middle of the wasteland! You could have used a bush!!”

“Hey, I don’t know about you man but I care about cleaning up our Commonwealth, not contributing to making it dirtier. Where’s you sense of progress?”

Hancock vomited again, flashing me a scathing look from over the lip of the bucket just as soon as the abdominal convulsions had ceased. “Just you wait until I can move again, boy… You are in for such an ass kicking…”

With a staggered groan, Cait clambered up from the sofa and started slowly limping towards the bathroom. Bucket dangling from her flaccid hand like a small toddler dragging about a security blanket in the dead of night; searching for some still awake parent who might ease away the remnants of a nightmare. “Well, unless anyone is feeling more desperate than me, I’m next cab off of the rank.”

I gurgled out a phlegm riddled death rattle as I crawled across the floor on all fours; dipping my fingers into the bowl of water by Piper’s side and dabbing up around my forehead and under my ears. “At the rate we’re going, I’m afraid we’re going to clog the damn thing up before too long…” I said, splashing a bit more against my cheeks; trying to bring my temperature down a bit. I felt a little put out that Nick wasn’t concerning himself with sponging down _my_ face and neck but then I suppose I was still capable of some independent movement. Poor Piper barely had strength enough to rotate at this stage.

Hancock sighed, rubbing what remained of his nasal bridge. “Great. I’m sure the scavenger’s will be very impressed with us.”

“We’ll just leg it and not tell ‘em.” I said, winking with what little humor I was able to muster with the sparse degree of energy I had in my reserves. Eve blinked at me sceptically.

“Leg it? We can barely _walk_ , let along ‘leg it!’” She jabbed a finger towards the tuckered out pooch, ears pinned back morosely against the crown of his skull. “And Dogmeat’s _refusing_ to budge his butt at the moment, so I’d end up having to carry him and I don’t think I have it in me to lug a sick pooch across the Wasteland and keep my sphincter shut at the same time.”

“Classy.” Hancock said with a careful chuckle.

“That’s me; all class, all ass.”

Nick gingerly draped the damp face washer upon Piper’s forehead before climbing to his feet with a creaking of components that sounded in desperate need of lubrication. “Well, it looks like we won’t be going anywhere in the immediate future, so I’ll go and set your bedding up. You’ll all be needing to sleep after being so ill.”

I laughed pitifully as I used a finger to clean some smudges from the lenses of my glasses. “Not sure I want to risk being inside a sleeping bag when I’ve got the same explosive risk of a Super mutant suicider. Probably be safer to wrap a tarp around myself first.”

“Maybe one of the shop keepers sells diapers.” Hancock suggested, not altogether kidding. Eve turned and flashed him a strange look.

“The hell? Are you saying you wouldn’t mind going to bed wearing a _napkin_?”

“If it meant I could sleep without worrying about what I could possibly wake up to, yeah!”

Nick leaned around the doorway from one of the allocated bedrooms, eyes pinched to form a somewhat admonishing expression. “Come on you lot. Might as well settle in for a while. Doesn’t look like we’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.”

With that subtle reprimand, we were quiet for a while; doing our outmost to behave and keep our stomachs and colon’s from further expunging themselves. Codsworth delegated himself the unenviable task of routinely emptying and washing our buckets. He seemed to be okay with this and even Eve was too wiped out to protest. All the while, Piper slipped in and out of consciousness; brought back only when I started dabbing at her forehead and neck with the face washer. Her pale features were blotchy and red and her skin was burning up. Though she hadn’t been sick or needed to go to the toilet for some time, there was definitely something seriously wrong.

The following two days passed in like; the majority of us recovering from our illness and managing to get a little bit of bland food into our stomachs. Eve had succeeded in securing a few loaves of bread from the local seller and we did precious little besides toast it and smear a near translucent sheen of butter upon it. She, Hancock and Cait were all in foul moods because they were forced to shelve their addictive activities during this recovery period. As such no alcohol or Chems. We were all a little naughty in regards to the cigarettes however; sneaking out where possible and stealing a puff here and there just to keep _those_ cravings at bay.

All exempting Piper, who couldn’t get up from her bedroll and woke only to take in a bit of water and a small bite of food before passing out again. One more than one occasion, one of us fella’s (or Eve) had to carry her into the toilet and then wait outside while she did her business. She was as weak as a kitten and barely kept a thing down for longer than an hour. She lost a lot of weight in just those two days alone. Nick didn’t say much but I could tell that he was worried. We all breathed a collective sigh of relief when, by the morning of day three, she managed to sit herself up and eat a whole piece of toast relatively unassisted. And keep it down, at that.

With little to do but sit around and wait to get our energy back, most of us got pretty stir crazy in short order. By the third night, MacCready, Hancock, Nick and myself were seated about the fireplace, talking and telling jokes, whilst Cait, Eve and Dogmeat were out procuring something with a little more substance for our evening meal. They arrived back to find most of us cackling like a collection of woodpeckers, Nick smiling patiently whilst running a brush through Piper’s recently washed hair.

“What are you boys giggling about _now?_ ” Eve remarked, smirking as she placed a fabric bag down on the floor and tugged out some newspaper. She unravelled its layers to reveal an offering of sausages and kebabs made from a combination of sliced vegetables and what we could only hope was fresher meat than what came from Lakowski’s cans. Cait was carrying an iron tripod and saucepan, which she immediately positioned over the burning coals and logs of the fire; the only means we had of cooking the food, since there was no stove in the disused hovel.

“What else?” Nick remarked, tracing the soft bristles of the brush down through Piper’s hair, whilst she sat there; looking like a sleepy, pampered cat. “They’re having their usual ‘Who is the funniest’ competition.”

I hurled myself up off of my side with a sigh. “It’s not a ‘ _Who is the funniest_ ’ competition, it’s a ‘Who is the funniest _bastard_ ’ competition.”

Nick’s synthetic eyes rolled in their silicone sockets. “Well don’t I feel a goose for not remembering that.”

“What’s today’s topic?” Eve enquired, scrunching some paper and using it to spread oil about the base of the saucepan before sliding it into the nook of the tripod. Both she and Cait were rugged up to the nines; thick winter jackets covering a few additional layers of shirts and singlets. Thick trousers and socks, shoved deep into the confines of snug leather boots. Their faces were pink and lips blue from beneath the knitted wool hats they’d pulled over their scalps.

“’Best worst pick up lines’, apparently.” Codsworth remarked, floating back from the refrigerator and passing a fresh tin of water into Piper’s hands.

I held up a finger at a time as I explained the rules. “One point if anyone in the room laughs, double points if you’ve actually used the line and three bonus points if the line actually succeeded in pulling someone.”

“Who’s in the lead?” Cait asked, tugging her hat off of her head and ruffling her near perpetual scruffy crown of hair as she all but threw herself backwards onto the sofa. A puff of dust shot out from beneath the cushions, momentarily blinding MacCready, who was perched on the floor nearby.

“Well, Hancock of course,” I said, gesturing over towards the Ghoul, who was observing Eve’s efforts so closely I reckoned he could count about every pore in her skin. “But only because he’s a shameless _slut_.”

Hancock, smirked from his perch atop Piper’s currently abandoned bedroll, rubbing at the back of his left hand with his thumb. “You know it. Anyway, it’s your turn.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking, I’m thinking.” I said, staring about the room and chewing on my lower lip; pondering back over the extensive collection of pick-up lines I had at my disposal.“Okay… here’s one. ‘Hey baby, I’ve lost my teddy bear. Can I sleep with you instead?”

The group gave a collective (rather generous) snort at this.

“Yeah, all right…” Hancock conceded, rubbing a hand back across his bald head. “Did you actually use it?”

I scratched the back of my neck; chuckling self-consciously. “Uh… sadly, yeah.”

“And did it work?” Eve asked, glancing over her shoulder before returning her attention to the fire. She carefully aligned the sausages in the pan, which sizzled as they hit the pre-heated surface. Hancock tried his best to shuffle off a little to the side, all the better to get a look at her ass as she squatted there by the flames.

“Well, she did laugh. Not exactly _with_ me, mind you.”

MacCready rolled his eyes and extended three fingers in my direction. “Okay, you get three points for that one. Kinda surprised a woman didn’t go in for the sensitive spin but there you go. Okay, my turn.” He thought for a minute on this and then: “Are your legs tired? Because you’ve been running through my mind all night.”

The majority of the group responded with vomiting sounds at this stinker.

“Uh… if I had any food left in my body, I would have thrown it right up at that.” Piper remarked, her nose twitching as the aroma of cooking meat started to wend its way throughout the small room. It said a lot as to how far we had come, that we could tolerate such a smell without being violently ripped back to the humiliations of days past.

“Please give me some hope for all woman kind and tell me that that one didn’t actually work?” Eve remarked, sliding a chopping board out from the neck of her duffle and positioning it on the floor. From the cloth bag came a reasonably sized gourd and two (somewhat) ripe looking Tato’s. She gestured at Hancock. “John, would you come over here and cut these up? I’ll wrap them in some tinfoil and we’ll cook them in the coals.”

MacCready laughed to himself as Hancock achingly rolled himself over to Eve and started, with some noticeable difficulty, to chop up the vegetables. His fingers seemed to be shaking a little and he nearly lost the tips of them more than once, as the Gourd insisted on slipping and sliding within his grasp.

“Sorry, boss. Guess not all women are as discerning as you.”

“Oh man, you have got to be kidding me!” I exclaimed, clapping a hand to my forehead with genuine, utter bewilderment. “You actually _pulled_ someone with that line?”

MacCready smiled vainly as he raised two fingers to form a peace sign. “Twice.”

“That is so sad.” Eve murmured, reaching into the pan and poking some holes into the sizzling sausages with the silver fork she was holding. Their skins split, momentarily warped before then reforming snuggly about the sliver of meat like a favourite old winter coat. “I weep for my gender.”

I held out my open palm, splaying each of my fingers apart as though reaching out to slap someone a risky high five. “I’m giving you five points for that one because no one laughed but damn, you gotta have brass balls to actually use that line once let alone twice. Although, I’m guessing you must have used it at the Third Rail and given how many Chems you _know_ those girls gotta be on…”

MacCready’s brows furrowed with annoyance and he tossed a threadbare, dusty old scatter cushion at my face. It hit like a powder puff; sending dust bursting into the air and leaving a thick layer of gray grime across my skin and glasses.

“Actually, I used that line before I even _knew_ about Goodneighbor.”

“Which makes it even sadder.” Nick contributed, which roused a series of congenial laughs and a ‘here, here,’ from Hancock. “Hancock, sounds like you’re up again.”

“Jesus, gonna have to actually rack my brain to think of one that was stupid _and_ actually worked.” Hancock remarked, pausing in the midst of slicing one very uncooperative piece of Tato that was just squealchy enough so as to not want to hold its form in the least. His brows furrowed in concentration and I imagined it was because, given what Hancock’s life had been like, he had thrown out any number of corkers that would have never worked if it hadn’t been him whacking them out. “This may take a while…”

“Mind if we chip in on this?” Eve asked, reaching across and taking the knife out of Hancock’s stilled hand. She quickly chopped the last of the tato, before wrapping its contents in tin foil and tossing it into the coals, alongside the package containing the gourd. She used a poker to push the coals over top of them. “As girls, we must have heard some corkers in our time, ay chickies?”

Piper sighed as Nick handed her back the hairbrush and she gently set to work winding her hair into a somewhat artless looking braid. “Oh, tell me about it. I hear about fifty whenever I walk through Goodneighbor.”

“Well all right then, ladies. Whilst we wait for Hancock to truck through his long sordid history of epic dating failures-” I got a very disdainful snort of reproach at this. “-why don’t you give us the best of the worst that you’ve had levelled at ya?” I held a finger aloft. “And bonus points if you actually went home with the fella."

Eve’s eyes verily twinkled with that not often witnessed competitive urge you just knew bubbled on the backburner of her ever so carefully refined façade. “You’re on. Piper, you wanna go first?”

“Already got one lined up, Blue.” Piper said, twisting a knotted hairband about the base of her short braid to hold the intricate loops and knots in place. She took a moment to tuck a few errant strands back into the crossover sections before gracing us with the piece de resistance of her unwanted male populace amours. “’Heya toots, I was havin’ such an off week but seeing you just turns me on.’”

Hanock’s eyes turned white; which could be a startling thing to see before you realized that it was as a result of him rolling the pupil up to grace the inside of his skull. “Oh my God,” He drawled, as the rest of us groaned and or chuckled our appreciation. “Tell me that wasn’t BC?”

Piper smirked, shaking her head as she took another tentative swig from her water. “Nah… guy’s too nice to try something like that. One of your other lame-brains, I don’t know his name.”

Ah, so it was _you_ Pattie, huh? Another little mystery solved for the evening.  

“And did it work?” Eve chuckled, using her fork to turn the sausages and kebabs over. My stomach had started to growl so loudly and obtrusively that it was borderline obscene. Thankfully, I was in good company. We were all starving after so many days with only minimalist food. This small ‘feast’ such as it was, was the largest intake we’d have consumed for some time and I had a sneaking suspicion that there wouldn’t be nearly enough in that pan to satisfy the rancorous, squalling stomachs that were creaking their displeasure about the room.

“Oh hell no.” Piper exclaimed, wide eyed with apparent offense. Annoyed I think, that Eve would believe for one second that such a line would be enough to pull a fastidious mind such as hers. Sorry, Pattie. “I just started walking faster. It just kinda stood out because it was a bit more eloquent than the _usual_ Goodneighbor pick-up lines.” To demonstrate, she stuck her fingers between her cracked lips, wolf whistled and then pumped a hand about her head. “‘Yeah, shake it, baby!’”

Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, guys. I’m just the one tellin’ the story. Blame Piper next time you see her. Dames, am I right?

“At least they have good taste.” Hancock said, a statement which seemed to surprise Piper more than anything else he had ever said in the time they’d known one another. Hancock saw her staring and shrugged, looking just as surprised by her reaction in turn. “What? You’re a smart, good lookin’ gal. ‘Scuse me for noticing. Anyway, I’ll give ya three points for that one. More than the poor guy got, I’m sure.”

Piper, having recovered from Hancock’s unexpected flattery, pulled a face and waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, poor guy my ass, I don’t think he lost any sleep over it. Okay Blue, it’s your turn.”

“Right…” Eve said mystically, pretending as though she hadn’t been scouring her alcohol soaked brain for the past minute or so to come up with only the best example of a bad come on ever. When it comes to bad jokes, you know this girl is Queen. Like that absolute thigh slapper you told one night: “Why was six afraid of seven? Because seven was a registered six offender”. I know, classic right?

“Okay,” She said, having meted out some corner of her mind that hadn’t been corroded by the many thousands of glasses of wine she had slain in her existence. “I heard this one in a bar when I was about nineteen. I was seeing Nate at the time but this was a girls’ night, so obviously he wasn’t around. I can’t actually believe the guy had the guts to come up and even _say_ it, to be honest…”

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense, Munch.” Hancock said, his face poised in that very practiced ‘Preservation of respect whenever the spouse is mentioned’ expression of which we all have some variation.

“Okay.” Eve said, clearing her throat and then deepening her voice to form a very stereotyped sort of ‘Dumb-dumb Simple-Simon-from-the-South’ accent. “’Have you ever had your belly-button licked?” To which I responded, “Um… yes?” To which he then said, ‘From the inside?’”

Now this _definitely_ caused the biggest reaction; a feat of which we all knew Eve must have taken (not so secret) delight in. She did her very best to tamper down her effervescent smile of triumph, watching as we all recoiled with disgust, disbelief and a spattering of shocked laughter. (Hancock you know was concentrating too hard on the image to really have much of a reaction but he made some mouth movements corresponding to laughter, so the lady wouldn’t catch on to his distraction.)

“Mum, that’s disgusting!” Codsworth blurted pompously, a tone of such genuine affront that it only made us laugh the harder.

“Tell me about it!” Eve stated, eyes widening so that she resembled a startled Brahmin that had just run afoul of a Death claw’s nest. “My jaw just about hit the floor!”

I waited until the laughter had died down before, with an elbow resting on my knee, leaned in and enquired: “So… did you hook up with him?”

Eve tossed a balled up piece of tinfoil in my direction, brows furrowed and unamused. “No, I did _not_. Even if I _hadn’t_ been in a serious relationship, I wouldn’t have fucking ‘hooked up’ with him! What a fucking gross thing to just go up to a girl and say!”

“Either he was as high as a kite or he had cahoonies the size of boulders.” Hancock remarked, a little twinkle in his eye which suggested that he somewhat approved of this unknown, purportedly disturbed individual. “Or one of his friends dared him. Kinda gotta give the kid credit.”

“He wasn’t a kid, he was about five years older than me.” Eve snorted, turning back to the pan and flipping the kebabs over. I wiped a strand of dribble that had escaped from the slackened corner of my mouth. Cait, I noticed, had started leaning forwards on the sofa; to the detriment of her nose if she didn’t straighten up soon.

“Nevertheless, I would award him full points for trying.” Hancock said, using his thumb to pin down his pinkie finger; holding three aloft. “You can have three. Bonus point as compensation for the trauma you went through.”

“Ugh, too little too late.”

“Okay, okay, I just remembered one so I’ma just gonna go ahead and jump in before Hancock.” I said, grinning as a come on that I had long since forgotten, drifted to the forefront of my mind. Triggered no doubt by the grossness of Eve’s aforementioned situation. Maybe even gross enough to knock hers out of the ball park. “’My face is leaving in 10 minutes. Be on it.’” I rounded this off by making a choo-choo train noise and pretended to pull a cord above my head.

Everyone laughed at this one, though I only milked a handful of ‘ews’ and ‘really’s? Eve’s still won out for grossness points, darn it. Better luck next time, Doe.

“Oh, for fucks sake, really?” Cait exclaimed, though she didn’t look offended so much as admiring. “YOU really used that one on some poor innocent girl?”

“Actually, that was when I was undercover _as_ a poor, innocent girl.”

“Ah, but you see, that’s different.” Hancock said, leaning forward and waving his finger to and fro as though lecturing to a room of students. “If a guy said that, a chick would get all grossed out but if a woman said it… I reckon it would pull the fella in.”

Surprises all, as to what would parlay Mayor Hancock’s favor, huh Goodneighbor?

“And was that the case, Doe?” Eve said with a cheeky smile. An encouragement, at which, more of this once censored memory came floating back unbidden to the vanguard of my memory and I found myself wishing ever so urgently that I could just shove it back into that hole from whence it came.

“Actually… yeah.” I said, staring off into that special place that all trauma victims go to when they simply do not wish to deal with reality anymore. Because I was travelling with such a lovely and caring group of individuals, they naturally demonstrated their concern to me by laughing like a bunch of assholes. “Not that I wanted it to work, I just wanted to see _if_ it would.”

“Not to worry.” Hancock chuckled, winking as he sank back against the wall and resumed rubbing at his hands with a visible wince. “Once he saw your dick I’m sure he took off like a bat out of hell.”

“Didn’t quite get to that point and I’m not always so sure that _would_ work.” I said, which drew a few agreeable nods from around the group and a puzzled ‘Hmm?’ from Codsworth. “All he got out of me was a hug and kiss on the cheek goodnight. Like the lady that I was.”

“Feel like weighing in, Nick?” MacCready said, waving a hand at the Synth, who reclined comfortably on the couch beside Cait with a lit cigarette dangling from his metallic hand. His body jerked with an internal huff of laughter; his lips curling up in response to some agreeable thought he was having.

“Well, I’ve heard some pretty bad ones over the years but I can’t say I’ve ever used any of them myself…”

“What’s the best one that you’ve ever _overhead_ then?” Hancock pushed, taking Nick’s smoking as an invitation that he too was allowed to respire inside. He set to work rolling up what I knew was a dirty, naughty doobie. Which was ever so nice of him to think of sharing the second-hand fumes with us. What a guy.

Nick turned that beatific smile on Hancock; which indicated of course that something not so beautiful was quickly coming the Ghouls way. “One of yours, actually.”

Hancock’s wrinkled features appeared to genuinely pale in the firelight and his pupils, nearly invisible except for how the light hit the edges of them, darted swiftly in Eve’s direction before swinging front and centre again. “Ah. Well, I don’t think we need to hear that one then. Get your own ammunition.”

Eve turned on him with a tut, waving the grease smeared tines of the fork before his eyes. “Uh uh uh, you _asked_ him to contribute.” She stuck her tongue from the corner of her mouth, clearly in the mood to tease the old whore monger. “And frankly, I’m kind of interested to hear what you think actually _works_ on women.”

Hancock cast a pleading glance in the Synths direction. “Come on Nick, you wouldn’t throw a brother under the Brahmin, would you?”

Nick shrugged, clearly not interested in helping rescue Hancock from himself and even less interested in attempting to censor his indiscretions from Eve. “Hey, you were out in public when you said it and there was no non-disclosure agreement signed beforehand. It’s your own fault if these things resurface later and are used against you.”

“The foibles of fame.” Eve laughed, turning back to the stove and flipping over the sausages again. They looked close enough to ready to me but after our last little misstep concerning meat, I could understand why Eve wasn’t taking the risk of undercooking them. “Let’s hear it then.”

Nick gazed out over the mantle; swinging one shoe up to perch on his opposing knee. A strand of ash was flicked errantly off to the side; landing perfectly in the small thin ash tray resting on the mildewed coffee table. Once brown perhaps but now, a blackness that lent itself to the borders of peat green within the gloom.

“I was speaking with someone in the Third Rail,” He began, in that smooth, old timey detective voice that sounded as though he were introducing an episode of _The Silver Shroud. ‘I knew the dame was trouble the second she walked through the door…’_ “And old ‘Smooth stuff’ over here starts gesturing for this poor girl to approach him from the other side of the bar.”

Nick approximated the gesture with his spare hand; crooking one finger and curling it back towards himself a few times. That typical sort of ‘come on over here’ signal.

“Ah yes. Because the ladies must first be invited by the Sovereign before they may approach.” Eve said sarcastically; an observation which actually appeared to embarrass Hancock more than appease him. He was unusually focused on rolling that little bud of his; mouth downcast and eyes peering into the contents of the paper so intensely I doubted he would require a lighter to fire it up.

“Oh shut up.” He grumbled, looking and sounding all too much like a sulky teenager whose parents were telling a story about him that they found ‘so adorable’ but he in turn found ‘like _totes_ embarrassing’.

“So, this girl wanders over,” Nick continued, having not noticed or having not a care as to Hancock’s increasing unease. “And, I tell no lie, Hancock says this to her: ‘Looks like I made you come with only one finger’.”

Naturally, the room exploded into laughter at this; a reaction amplified by Hancock’s plaintive annoyance at the fact that Nick had been privy to such an exchange. He had taken on the very countenance of a child who, having just received a smack to their posterior, had been sent to their room without supper. He stared off into the dark corner of the shack; where the light from the fire wasn’t able to reach and for a moment I actually felt sorry for the poor old codger. Then I remembered that old adage ‘Sleep in the bed you make’ and shelved my sympathy a bit.

“You didn’t!!” Eve exclaimed, looking both impressed and disappointed in the one, bizarrely complimentary expression. Hancock continued to sulk, tapping the end of the rollie against his knee until he just about smooshed the thing into nothingness.

“I remember that one, it was on a _bet_.” He insisted, to a rousing chorus of coughing and ‘bullshits’. “It’s not an actual line I would genuinely use to pull a gal!”

“Oh, horse crap, I bet you use it all the time.” Piper teased, clearly enjoying being in the role of tormentor as opposed to ‘tormentee’. I think we were all quite buoyed by this unusual set of circumstances; all of us teasing Hancock as opposed to the other way around. It wasn’t often he left a vulnerable chink in his armour and with all the ribbing he’d given us the last couple of months, well. Turnabout is fair play.

“Well, you can all laugh yourselves off the nearest short plank because it _did_ actually work.” Hancock snapped, lighting up his dirty little parcel and inhaling on it before bringing his hands together again and rubbing the line between his index finger and thumb. Perhaps his current malaise had more to do with the fact that he was in pain, rather than being picked on.

“Lines that work in Goodneighbor are forfeit on principal.” I said, a factor I felt should have constituted a standard rule for the ‘Bad Pick up line’ game. “Everyone there is too Chem addled to have standards.”

Hancock sneered at me from out of the shadows that licked on either side of his ravaged features. “Well isn’t that a blessing, otherwise you’d never get laid.”

“Putting the cat fight aside for one minute ladies, I do so declare this most modest of meals officially open!” Eve stated, unwrapping bread from a hessian cloth and placing it on a clean chopping board. She sliced what remained of the loaf, buttered it and set each slice on a plate. Onto each portion, she slid a thick steaming beef sausage, taking orders for either Trail made chutney or Tato Sauce (our only current options) as she went. She added a kebab to each plate and then a spattering of coal roasted vegetables; just enough to qualify for a ‘somewhat’ well rounded meal.

“Enjoy it while you can, guys.” She remarked, somewhat sadly as the rest of us tucked into our food like the starving animals we were; sauce spattering cheeks, noses and foreheads alike. “It’s the last of the food the shop keeper’s willing to sell to us. At least until they receive their next delivery, day after tomorrow. Wanna prioritize the settlers.”

Ruthless but that was to be expected with a lot of these outlying towns. There could be a long time between deliveries and that’s assuming that the caravaners hadn’t run afoul of Raider gangs, Gunners or any other number of nasties the Commonwealth has at its disposal. As such, settlements like this one were trained to prioritize the distribution of their resources. There were loyalties to preserve and after all, who were we to them? Just some dirty, diuretic drift in’s that were using up their water, eating their grub and stinking up their sewer system. After today, looked like it was either get back on the road or get your barely recovered asses out there and be self-sufficient.

Needless to say, we all made the most of our little ‘last supper’; licking our plates so clean they hardly needed the washing that Codsworth nonetheless submitted them to. As he dunked and sponged them in a small bucket nearby, the rest of us sat about rubbing bellies that still didn’t feel quite full enough. Eve passed around a couple of small bowls; in which she had placed a petite offering of mixed fruit. Tarberries, mutfruit and a few modest slices of melon. Somehow, don’t ask me how, she had managed to procure a small pot of cream and she smeared a little dollop in everyone’s bowl so that we could dunk our berries into it. It was a sweet, tasty offering and I felt so purely contented that my mind started unconsciously drifting back to thoughts of lulling Eve into wedded bliss. With both Hancock and Dogmeat biting my heels all the way down the aisle and into eternity, no doubt. Alas.

As Codsworth washed the bowls and the rest of us sat about, picking our teeth and belching like feudal lords, Eve stared intensely and inquisitively at Hancock; who appeared to be receding further and further into the shadows by the moment. After a minute or two of rather uncomfortably penetrating observation, Eve shuffled closer; pointed one chipped fingernail at his now doobie free hands.

“Look, I gotta ask– just what is going on with your hands, Hancock? You’ve been sitting there rubbing them like a villain with an agenda for the past half hour.”

Hancock, surprised I think at having been caught out (despite my having observed him doing this self-same thing) stared down at his hands, broke them apart and then set them firmly down into his lap. As though this would detract Eve from her curiosity. Didn’t he know her by now?

“Oh this? It’s nothin’.”

Eve gave him one of her long ‘Don’t even start with me’ looks that I swear all women come equipped with. I think Hancock had grown very accustomed to what the following exchange would entail if he committed to putting up a fight, so he simply conceded and held out his hands, palm up.

“Late in the evening, my hands start aching, is all. Ain’t nothin’ to worry about.”

“Well it’s kind of worth worrying about if it’s happening every evening.” Eve remarked, which was a fair point and one that was difficult to debate. Must have been the lawyer in her peeking through. “Is it muscle or joint related?”

“Or self-interference related maybe?” I queried with a smirk. Hancock’s eyes glinted unappreciatively from out of the cloak of shadows he’d cast about himself.

“If anyone interferes with themselves too much, it’d be _you_ not me. Is that why you wear the sunglasses all the time?” He asked, swirling a finger provocatively in my direction. “Protect your eyes from the back spray?”

“That and it helps me look at you without taking too much in, Hancock.” I said, the both of us sharing a small laugh at our own expense. Nick waved a hand, mollifying.

“Come on, children. Let’s stay focused. Evelyn asked you a question, Hancock, I think she might appreciate an answer at some point.”

Hancock sighed deeply, just to let Eve know what a persistent pain in the butt she was being. “Jesus Munch, you would worry a fucking Radstag. Look, I’ll tell ya what the go is, just so you can chill out.” He distended both hands, using one to point to the discrepancies in the flesh of the other. “A ghoul’s skin gets pretty sensitive after we turn and it tightens up against the muscle and tissue. It’s where most of the tears and scarification comes from. For some reason, it gets a little worse of an evening or when there’s a change in the weather.” He flexed both hands into fists and sure enough, the wrinkled flesh turned that same white that usually appears on a Smoothskin’s knuckles. This however, covered the entirety of his hand; as though the skin had been fitted too tightly to the bones. “See? Skin gets tighter round the hands and feet, especially. Crushes down on the muscle and contracts the bones a bit. It’s nothing to go getting your knickers in a knot over, though. It’s just… one of those things ya can’t do much about.”

Let it never be said that Evelyn Anne Hallows was the type of woman to let a small thing like ‘reality’ stand in her way. As soon as Hancock said the words ‘can’t do much about it’, she immediately got that look on her face, as though she had been dared to do something that everyone said she couldn’t possibly do. I swear, the lady is so bull-headed I reckon she’d try and pogo-stick her way to the moon if someone told her it couldn’t be done.

“That is exactly the kind of self-defeatist attitude I didn’t expect I would ever hear from _you_ , John Hancock.” She scolded, clambering to her feet and dusting off the back of her jeans. A fair spattering of dust flew up from her tush. “Besides, I think I got just the thing that might help… won’t fix it, but it’ll help ya feel better all the same.”

Sensing an opportunity to tease, Hancock tilted his head towards Eve and said in an exaggerated ‘hush hush’ whisper; _“Gee, will thanks a bunch Munch but it’s probably not very polite to be doing that out here in front of everyone.”_

“And the come on’s just keep getting better and better.” Piper muttered, rolling her eyes sarcastically. Eve laughed and reached down to give Hancock an affectionate cluck to the side of the chin.

“Hey, you’re not in enough pain to get a pity root, sorry.” Smiling still, she returned to our stock pile of currently clean (and thankfully unused for some hours now) buckets and picked one up by the steel handle. “Just gonna go and run some water into this, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“What, why?” MacCready protested, sitting up and glaring between Eve and Hancock as though something entirely unwarranted (and unexpected) had come to pass. “Don’t tell me you’re going to give that stupid old fart a sponge bath?”

Rather than express offense, Hancock grinned and jerked his fist back in a stereotype gesture of celebration. “Hell _yeah_ , must be my birthday and I didn’t realize. Guess my pick-up lines ain’t too shabby after all, huh?”

Piper, apparently convinced of this fact, held up her hands reproachfully. “Jesus…” She uttered, sounding for all intents and purposes as though she were only just barely restricting bile to the rear of her throat. “If you’re seriously going to wash him, could you do it outside please, Eve? Some of us are still trying to hold onto the last bit of moisture in their bodies, thankyou!”

“What on earth are you trying to say?” Hancock asked, dipping his brow ridges down and leaning out of the shadows clutches so that his expression of offense was more the palatable. “Don’t ya think I’m pretty enough ta get my kit off in front of you?”

And then, to the great discomfort of most person’s in the room (Eve, clearly exempt for obvious reasons), Hancock started to slowly and in one’s own opinion, gratuitously, unbutton his shirt; making intense, uncomfortable eye contact with Piper all the while. He’d barely transgressed past his second button (though, to be fair, this was situated almost directly above his _naval_ button) before Piper recoiled in alarm, holding her hands out to form the universal signal of ‘Please God, _STOP.’_

“NO!” She yelled, because the gesture had clearly lacked something that only a verbal exclamation could truly enunciate. “Stop it! Eve, make him fucking _stop_!”

I decided to weigh in with my own prudent annotations of the situation. “This is bullshit.” I stated, most eloquently as I wrested my lower lip out so far from my face that it was little wonder no one felt the urge to perch upon it. “I want a sponge bath too! I get sore legs from walking around all day, is that enough to qualify me for a rub down?”

Eve brows crumpled into a look of clear disdain as she swivelled about the room; making good and certain to wave her hands dissuasively at the collective lot of us.

“Hold on just a fucking minute, I don’t remember sayin’ nothing about a sponge bath.” She stated, rotating once more to face Hancock, who was still popping open the remaining buttons of his shirt in the most obscene and offensive way possible. “And Hancock, could you please stop torturing Piper? She’s a member of the press, in case it behoves you to forget. They don’t forgive that shit easy.”

Hancock sighed with what sounded to be genuine sorrow as he reallocated the mislaid buttons of his shirt. “Fine. Though I’m a little offended that you think me taking my clothes off in front of her would count as torture.”

Eve snickered as she dipped one of her long lashed radstag-esque eyes in a conspiratorial wink. “There’s no accounting for taste, dear. Anyway, I’ll be back in a minute. Nick? Try and get them to behave.”

Nick smiled and flashed a small salute from the peak of his weather-beaten fedora. “I’m not so sure you should be the one dispensing that advice, Evelyn but I’ll do my best.”

Eve’s laughter trailed behind her as she turned and made her way up the hallway and stepped inside of the small, mostly dilapidated bathroom we had all been sharing the last couple of days. The bathroom which was currently decked out with every possible flower and sweet smelling thing we had in our possession; routinely spritzed out with either deodorant or perfume at the women’s behest. Still wasn’t quite enough to route the pervasive smell of upset intestinal tract but a damn improvement to what it had been that first day. It was all we could do to crank the window, pinch our nose and ride out the genocidal like gassing we received every time we entered the room. Never mind when it thoughtlessly seeped out into the hallway and invaded the adjacent nooks we had been sleeping in.

Above the sound of running water that hence followed from down the hall, Codsworth floated across to the sofa and twirled his pincer in a circle above Piper’s head.

“Miss Wright, how are you feeling at the moment?”

Piper smiled gently as she tucked strands of hair, loose from her braid, back behind her ear.

“A bit better… Nick really helped by bringing my temperature down a bit that first day. Think that helped spur my recovery on.”

Hancock curled his lip unappreciatively in her direction. “Oh, so it’s all right when _you_ have a sponge bath but it’s ‘icky-tuh’ for the rest of us.”

Piper stared back at him coolly. “It’s only ‘ _icky-tuh’_ because _some of us_ would enjoy it too much.”

“Besides, if I hadn’t of done that, Piper’s health would have gone downhill rapidly.” Nick said, springing to his own defence in a situation that really didn’t altogether require defending. “It was a medical necessity.”

“We have medical necessities too!” MacCready blathered, his eyes already casting about in his skull in correspondence to a mind that was clearly searching for a reasonable validation of this statement. Codsworth ‘hmmed’ in the background; the paragon of the unconvinced.

“Forgive my impertinence sir but feeling amorous does not constitute a medical necessity.”

“It can be…” I chimed in, to a rousing chorus of nods from MacCready. “If you’ve been feeling _amorous_ for long enough.”

Cait groaned, rolling her eyes and sinking her back against the side of the sofa. “Jesus Deacon, seriously? For the sake of everyone here, I’m recommending that you sleep with twins immediately.”

“Soon as I meet some, I’ll get right on that. Might use some of Hancock’s lines, that’ll be sure to reel them in.” I crooked one finger up and curled it back in towards myself, rousing laughter once more for the group. Hancock spun on me, his eyes blazing furiously.

“I told ya, that was _not_ a legitimate line! It was a _dare_ , you asshole!”

Our laughter petered out as the bathroom door squeaked open and Eve backed butt first back out into the hallway, bucket hanging from her left hand. In her right, she carried Hancock’s hat; long since considered by most of us to be unsalvageable, thanks to yours truly. But Eve had stuck with it these past few days; continuing to soak, scrub and anoint the tricorner with whatever laundry related aids she had at her disposal. Codsworth too had pitched in; almost giddy at the task with which he was assisting. (The way Mr Handy’s seem to get off on cleaning bypasses opportunistic and borders on creepy, for me. Sorry General Atomic’s, but I think you might have overshot your estimations with the programming there).

Unable to taper down the edges of her self-satisfied little smile, Eve trotted back to join the rest of us by the fire; setting the bucket down in front of Hancock’s sprawled figure. She tested the water with her fingers before shaking them off lightly to the side.

“Here you go…” She said, reaching over and taking Hancock’s hands into her own. You could just about see the fireworks going off between his ears. “We’re just going to pop them in here for a while and let them soak.”

“Why is the water warm?” Hancock asked, sounding somewhat distracted as Eve gently guided his hands down into the water. One could only wonder why.

“Maybe she’s trying to make you wet yourself.” MacCready remarked, smiling as one brow quirked up into the lines of his forehead. Not an altogether generous thought; given what we had all just tentatively recovered from. Piper sighed, tilting her head towards him with an impatient expression marring her pale features.

“You only do that when someone’s asleep, dummy.”

Eve laughed as she eased herself down onto her butt; attempting to make herself more comfortable, I suppose. “It helps the muscles relax and softens the skin. Oh and your hat is all clean and dry. I was airing it, so it doesn’t have the horrible vomitty stench any more but it still smells a little like soap, sorry.” She picked up the tricorner and held the opening out towards Hancock, so that he could lean in and take a whiff. He did so, a smile foisting up the corners of his… well, what passed for lips and the old Ghoul’s eyes near sparkled their gratitude. Naww.

“I’ll be the prettiest smelling ghoul in the Commonwealth.” He said and the acknowledgement of Eve’s much belaboured success with de-vomitting the hat morphed her own features into luminous pleasure. Oh, these two. “Cheers Munch.”

“Not at all.” She said, failing miserably in downplaying her bliss as she flipped the hat about and tenderly slid it back atop Hancock’s bizarrely smooth pate. She beamed happily, petting the palm of her hand to the top of the hat twice to firmly fix it in place. “There. Looking like yourself again.”

“Yeah, I know.” Cait remarked, tilting her head about as she plucked a crumbled pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of her jacket. She lit one up with a match that MacCready almost snapped in half, such was his haste to be of help to her. “It was kinda weird seeing you without your hat on.”

“It _is_ my trademark.” Hancock concurred, moving his head about like a Vault-Tech Bobblehead; most likely appreciate the comforting feel of the weight back atop his dome. “My trademark that I nearly lost thanks to Dipshit and his idiotic ‘Don’t further pollute the Commonwealth’ stance.”

I figured now was the time to make good and proper in my penitence and offer up the metaphorical olive branch of peace. “If it’ll make you feel better, next time we all get food poisoning, you can throw up in my Pompadour wig, how’s that sound?”

“I’ll pencil it in.” Hancock said and with such a flat expression I couldn’t tell whether or not he actually intended to do such a thing. He stared down into the bucket, lip twisted to the side uncertainly. “This _was_ one of the clean ones, right Munch?”

Eve frowned at him, reaching over to cuff the back of his head; knocking his only just recently reinstated ‘trademark’ eschew. “’Course it was. What did you think I was gonna do? Fill up a bucket that had vomit in it and stick your hands in it? I’m not that much of a bitch.”

“Well that’s debatable.” Hancock not quite whispered, earning himself a much harder slap to the arm for his efforts. “I was kidding. …Kinda.”

Eve grumbled as she pushed herself up onto her feet, dusting herself off for the umpteenth time. It was a wonder the dust continued to circulate in this place; given what a vigorous vacuuming Codsworth had given the little shanty over the last couple of days. I was starting to suspect it was being used as some universal dumping ground for the accumulated dust of the settlement; routinely filtered in via some unseen drainage or duct system. Huh… must be spending too much time around Tinker Tom.

“You are so not worth the effort. Just give it a couple more minutes and try and relax.” Eve muttered, disappearing over to the fridge and (with a somewhat guilty glance towards Nick) carefully easing out a bottle of wine that she had left to chill in there. Nick had pretty much banned alcohol until the lot of us were properly recovered and or rehydrated and had been put to immediate and consistent guard duty where Eve was concerned. Even Cait and Hancock were more trustworthy than she was when it came to the bevvy department and twice Nick had snatched a not so carefully disguised mug of white wine out of Eve’s hands since we had set up shop in the settlement. (She had even tried storing it in an empty Purified Water tin but Nick had gotten a whiff of the contents when walking past and immediately confiscated it. First time I’ve ever seen Eve chuck a tantrum and I pray it will be the last).

She watched him now, carefully gauging his reaction and when he offered up a lazy, albeit conceding wave of his hand, her smile sprang back into place and she triumphantly poured her first proper drink in three days. I was silently relieved. Love ya gal but you are a damn grumpy ass bitch when you’re in withdrawal. Please let me know if you ever decide to go through the process of quitting, so I can make reservations in New Reno or something, yeah?

“Happy hour?” Hancock chuckled, clearly amused by Eve’s enthusiasm. Grinning, she pinned the newly recapped bottle between her legs and used her now free arm to make a celebratory ‘jazz hand’.

“Happy hour, yay.” She trilled, wasting no time in bringing the no doubt brimming cup to her lips and slurping back on the contents addictively. Happy hour was something of a pun, given the once supposedly stringent rules Boston had concerning ‘happy hour’ in the old days. Apparently, though other states permitted it, Massachusetts had not. Such rules in our time no longer applied however, which must have been a welcome relief to an old rummy like Cherub.

Piper stared nonplussed, offering up two heavy handed blinks as a visual cue to her ever present astonishment with Eve and her liquor oriented shenanigans.

“Holy shit Blue, you _are_ dedicated.” She observed. Though this was hardly news to any of us by this stage of the game. “Drinking after being as sick as you were?”

Eve resurfaced from her goblet of goodness, eyes feathered shut in unparalleled satisfaction. Pretty damn sure her ‘O’ face couldn’t even come close but I’m not gonna boost expectations ahead of time and put that pressure on you to run a comparison check, Hancock. “Gotta have what I gotta have. You guys want some?” She offered, retrieving the bottle and tilting it from side to side so that the contents merrily sloshed. There was a little twitch in the corner of her eye that suggested she was offering only because it was the ‘proper’ thing to do but was dualistically troubled by the prospect that we might accept. Ah, isn’t it nice when people make fun of your long sustained addiction problems, Cherub?

Hancock tossed his head; features pinched snobbily. “Not unless you’ve got some bourbon or something tucked away in that there ice box. I’m not partial to your favourite blend of fermented cat piss.”

“Awful picky for the kind of guy that would suck the alcohol out of a marker pen.” I commented, laughing as I flicked a finger in Eve’s direction. We were both the wine drinkers in the group and though I preferred a red (obviously) I’d take what was being offered. Especially after three or so days of drinking nothing but purified water and on one rare and wild occasion; a glass of flat Nuka Cola. Variety is the spice of life! “I’ll take a splash of the feline urine, if you’re offering.”

“Sure thing.” Eve replied, pouring me a generous serving that I knew all too well she regretted with every precious drop distributed to the interior of the iron cup. After passing this over to me (fingers trembling all the while) she returned to the refrigerator and slid the bottle back into the door compartment. “Ooh, you’re lucky.” She said, reaching in and extracting a half-full bottle of Scotch-whiskey. “Thought we demolished most of this before the ‘Big Expedition’.”

“Oh yeah…” Hancock mused, chuckling as Eve went about fetching some more cups; because Cait and MacCready had also bounced up at the bottles reveal; eyes bright and anticipatory. “That was a good night…”

Eve snorted as she poured a few straight glasses of the amber coloured liquor. “For _you_ maybe… you didn’t end up with your leg down a toilet!”

“Do I even wanna know what the two of you were up to?” Nick queried, with an expression that said he already knew he was better off not knowing. I chuckled softly, gesturing at both Piper and Cait before bringing my finger back about to include myself in the collection.

“Actually, the three of us were involved us well. And Travis for that matter, too.” A name that immediately resulted in MacCready twisting his head away in annoyance. There’s a story there but it’s not this one and given that the poor chap isn’t in the room to defend himself, I don’t plan on going into it. “This was a many faceted, group dedicated effort in treachery. That, yes, ended up with Eve’s foot down a lavatory.”

“Why are so many of my adventures latrine related?” Eve mused, seemingly to herself as she screwed the cap of the whiskey bottle back on; her tanned features crinkled in thoughtfulness. “Guess I should just be grateful _that_ one didn’t make it to the pages of the Publick Occurrences.”

“Hey, I was involved in that mess too, don’t forget!” Piper exclaimed, still sipping resolutely from her tin of water, though looking increasingly more depressed by it. She would have loved to have been hoeing into a beer I’m sure but her illness had been much severe than any of ours and she was still very much in recovery mode. “And though I don’t regret a minute of it, I’m not gonna risk Nat and I getting evicted over it. I’m on tenterhooks as it is these days. Bringing the truth is one thing, breaking city stipulations is kind of pushing the boundaries a little…”

“To say the least!” Eve said, swishing her fingernail above the three glasses she had prepared. “You guys want water in this, or…?”

“Waters for washing in.” Hancock’s said, not surprising a soul in his refusal to dilute his first imbuement in three days. “I’ll take it straight.”

“Same.” Cait declared, MacCready nodding his endorsement as well. Piper sighed, her smile suggesting she was not entirely judgemental but still amused by our commitment.

“You guys are nuts. How are you seriously drinking after being so ill?”

“Oh, madam has always been steadfast and dedicated to the drink.” Codsworth ruminated, buzzing past in the background with a ‘pincerful’ of smalls, of which he started carefully draping across the clothes horse. I could see a few of my own boxer briefs in there, mixed up with Cait’s typically tiny knickers and some sort of lacy looking bloomer things I could only hope belonged to either Eve or Piper. Wouldn’t put it past Hancock or MacCready to wear something like that, though.

“I’m not quitter. Nick, fancy a nip of something?”

Nick smiled patiently at the offer, another cigarette lit and poised delicately between his shiny, prosthetic free fingers. “You know I don’t eat or drink, Evelyn. But thanks for the offer.”

“Anytime.” She said, making her way about the room to deliver the cups to their designated owners. She grabbed Hancock’s hand as it reached eagerly for the cup and plopped it firmly back into the bucket. “I _said_ to keep your hands in the water and let them soak!”

“Well how am I supposed to drink my drink then?” Hancock groused with a peevish frown. Eve sighed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.

“Jesus, always a dilemma with you. Codsworth?” She called, causing the robot to spin about so that all three of his eyes were focused in her direction. “Do you reckon you could hold Hancock’s cup up to his mouth so he can have some of his drink whilst his hands are soaking?”

“Right you are, mum.” Codsworth said agreeably, finishing with his eloquent looming of our assorted undergarments and floating over to accept the cup from Eve’s hand. “I’m not entirely certain as to how I feel about contributing to an elected official’s ever deepening descent into alcoholism but I am happy to oblige in just this instance.”

“What a sport you are.” Hancock said sarcastically, which roused snickers from the rest of the gathering. Eve, smiling from beneath her flushed cheeks and much begrudged woollen winter hat; foisted her cup towards the Heaven’s, prompting us to all follow suit.

“Right-o everyone; well we have survived yet another day.”

“Lesser some dignity but still metaphorically kicking it.” I contributed, which naturally made everyone shift about uncomfortably as the memory of disgracing ourselves out in the middle of nowhere came charging back to the forefront of our recollections.

“I guess that’s worth toasting to…” Eve said, uncertain but smiling all the same. She gave another foremost jerk of her glass. “Cheers!”

“Cheers.” We chorused, swooping our collective cups toward the rafters. Piper held up her bottle of water weakly in response, Nick raised his cigarette and Dogmeat gave one feeble ‘wap’ of his tail to the dirty carpet by the fireplace. I sipped from my wine, enjoying the coldness of it and thinking that it didn’t at all taste like the cat piss Hancock supposed it to resemble. But then again, I’ve never drunk cat piss, so I really have no way of knowing. I wondered then how Hancock knew? Hmm…

Cait and MacCready sipped back from their own mugs, sighing almost in unison as they ingested their first hit. Codsworth held Hancock’s mug out to him encouragingly.

“Right you are, sir. Open up now, yum-yum.” He said. Hancock stared back unappreciatively.

“Oh for fucks sake, I’m not a toddl-” He started bitching but his diatribe was cut swiftly and dramatically short by Codsworth all but shoving the cup down his throat. He tipped it up, at far too dramatic an angle; sending scotch whiskey sloshing down all over Hancock’s lower face and into his nasal cavity. Hancock burbled incoherently through the onslaught of top shelf and finally wrenched his hands out of the bucket to grab the mug from Codsworth’s pincer. He coughed and snorted off to the side, trying to clear the potent liquor out of his nose.

“Jesus _Christ_!” He finally snapped, whilst the rest of us rolled about for laughing at his expense. He was forced to use the sleeve of his shirt to dry off of his face. The smell of the scotch was strong and pervaded the room as though it had been liberally sprayed about like perfume. I could only imagine how bad it was for the chap who’d just had it ladled down his nose. “I don’t know what I’m more pissed about – the fact that you just tried to drown me or the fact that you wasted scotch to do it!”

“I’m just a little more concerned as to how you managed to feed Shaun without drowning him…” Eve considered, pointing to one of Hancock’s pockets as though to remind him of the handkerchief he almost always carried with him. Sure enough, he whipped it out and started using it to clean out the scotch riddled valleys of his face.

“Well, I’m used to using bottles, mum.” Codsworth admitted, all eyes focused on the now near empty cup as he tilted it thoughtfully from side to side. “You could tip those all the way up without anything like this occurring. Would it perhaps be more helpful if you were to put Mayor Hancock’s drink into a baby’s bottle?”

Hancock’s eyes pinned themselves wide open at this suggestion and he whipped the sodden handkerchief away from his face in disgust.

“Hey whoa, whoa… I was done drinking out of a baby’s bottle when I was… well, a baby.” He said, reaching up and appropriating the dripping cup from Codsworth’s grasp. He fetched back on it; bringing a nice big sip into his mouth and barely attaining a seconds worth of enjoyment from it before Eve was plucking the cup out of his hands again. He flailed for it; like a starving child who’d had a stale loaf of maggot ridden bread wrested from their malnourished fingers. “Oh come on, Munch!”

“I’ll help you drink it, just put your hands back in the bucket, please.” Eve instructed, marching herself back to the refrigerator and topping Hancock’s mostly depleted drink back up. Having done so, she returned to his side, placed both drinks down by his leg and picked up a face washer that was hanging over the lip of the bucket. She placed it in the water and then gently wrapped it around Hancock’s left hand. “Keep them there for a minute…” She said, using both of her own hands to squeeze his; first around the top near the wrist, before working her fingers deep into the heel. She moved along, squeezing the centre of the palm and then further still, squeezing his fingers. She repeated this process once more from the top and then swapped over to the other hand.

“There…” She said after a minute or so of this (kind of envious) treatment. “The muscles should be feeling more relaxed. Keep them in for a little longer and I’ll work on them again in a bit.” She gently placed Hancock’s hands beneath the water before picking up his cup and pressing the rim to his lips; helping him to take another sip. I sat up, purely gobsmacked.

“What, seriously?! He doesn’t get spoilt enough being the mayor of Goodneighbour, now he gets to be waited on and have his hands massaged by a beautiful woman out in the wasteland?” I screeched, not failing to take notice of the pleased smile this statement evoked from Eve. Susceptible to flattery as usual. “I’m calling it now; this world is fucking biased!”

“Now who’s jealous, _bitch_?” Hancock said contentedly, eyes half-lidded as he beamed smugly in my direction.

“I’m not jealous, I am just rightfully incensed by the inequality and unfairness of the entire situation!”

“Boo fucking hoo, Dimwitt. The world is so biased, unequal and unfair when you’re a straight white male. Why don’t you spend a week as a ghoul and then come talk to me about how hard life is?”

Of course, unbeknownst to Hancock, I _had_ in fact spent a week living as a Ghoul. _More_ than a week, actually. But that’s another story. And it still didn’t change the fact that he was being spoilt with attention that I’m not certain he entirely deserved.

“Although, you do get major points for calling me beautiful.” Eve said, bringing one of her long lashed eyes down into a wink. “You accrue enough of those and you might be in for a back rub one of these days.”

“Done. But can it be my calves instead?” I asked, rotating about on my ass, rolling down my trouser leg and smacking my palm against my sore, stretched out calf. “All this motor activity is working muscles I didn’t even know existed, let alone _felt_ before.”

Codsworth hovered over, tilting his chassis forward so that all three of us eyes focused on me intensely. “If your muscles are bothering you that much Mr Deacon, why I would be more than happy to perform some amateur muscle relaxation techniques with you.”

I stared reproachfully at Codsworth’s painful bouquet of metal appendages, not feeling altogether enticed by the offer. “Yeah… I’m going to pass on that thanks Codsworth. Only because I’d much prefer a pretty girl to be rubbing her hands over my body than a droids metallic pincers. Personal preference and all.”

“Yeah, well I’d prefer to be reclining naked on a tropical beach somewhere, being fed alternating mouthfuls of cocktails and truffles, having Sauvignon Blanc intravenously pumped into my left arm while two twenty-year-old bronzed male models take turns rubbing my shoulders and performing lovely scandalous acts with my lower half before making me the meat in a twelve-pack sandwich but here I am, stuck in the post-apocalyptic future with you diuretic bastards. Can’t always get what you want, Doe. You can take your hands out now, Hancock.” Eve set her glass down before reaching into the bucket and removing Hancock’s hands from the water. She glanced around, noticing that the room had fallen quiet and we were all just sort of staring at her uncomfortably. She scoffed, removing the cloth from the back of Hancock’s hands and squeezed it out. “Oh, so it’s all right for you lot to have fetishes but not me?”

Hancock, who looked impressed rather than perturbed like the rest of us, chuckled and tapped the side of her arm with the foremost peak of his hat. “Listen to you, you little tart. And here I thought you were so innocent when we first met.”

She laughed, winking and clucking her tongue at him. “Now you know better.”

I waved my cup free hand above my head, like an enthusiastic kid in the back of a clamouring classroom. “Hey Cherub, listen, if you’re really keen on that sandwich thing, I’m sure we can make that work.”

Piper scoffed with (really rather hurtful) disbelief. “Yeah, because any of you guys here could pass for models.”

“Never mind that, I’d sooner rip my own eyeballs out and peg them at a Deathclaw before I’d share a woman with Dipshit over here.” Hancock stated, eyes narrowed shrewdly at me. “Last thing I’d wanna see staring back at me over a chicks shoulder is another dudes’ face.”

I held out my palm in the universal ‘talk to the hand’ gesture. “Hey, you know you’re not exactly a vision of loveliness yourself, chief. If I looked over a woman’s shoulder and saw you looking back at me, it would be like -” I made a retching noise and pretended to vomit onto the floor; quietly relieved that for the first time in days, it was only make believe. Nick groaned, prodding out the last of his cigarette in the ashtray nearest him.

“No one is asking the two of you to share a woman, so I think we can safely put this disgusting speculation to rest right here and now.”

“Yes, _please._ But thanks all the same.” Eve said, holding Hancock’s hands in her own, fingers pressing up into his palm.  “Okay, just relax them… let them go limp.” Hancock relaxed his hands, putting all the weight down onto Eve’s. She in turn lowered all her fingers exempting the middle digits, which she pushed up into the palm of his hand. She held this for a moment and then brought the palms back together and squeezed her thumbs into the tops of both his hands, before placing the right one back into the bucket of water. “Right, here we go. Just try and keep your hands as relaxed as possible. Let me know if I’m hurting you or anything, okay?”

Hancock snorted. “Come on Munch, I’m not that so-” He trailed off as Eve started using her thumbs to massage the top of his hand, moving around to work the heel from beneath. From the jilting movement of her thumb, I gathered that she was working out little pressure lumps that had formed as a result of tension within the muscle. Hancock’s eyes flickered into half-mast, to the result that he looked set to nod off at any moment. A soft ‘ohhh’ dribbled out from between his lips; which were slackening ever the more by the moment.

Eve chuckled, moving further down the back of his hand, rubbing between the ridges formed by the bones and muscle. She kneaded gently into the palm, whilst the rest of us looked on enviously. Well, I was envious in the least. I mean, who would turn down a massage when given the opportunity?

“Feel good?” She asked rhetorically. Hey, it wasn’t like he was rolling his eyes and trying to crawl away and lock himself in one of the bedrooms, was he? Nope. He was just slowly sinking back against the wall of the shanty as though succumbing to some sort of hypnotic trance.

“Feels fucking _awesome_ …” He groaned, making a disturbing sort of ‘mrrrrrn’ sound in the back of his throat, eyes struggling to stay open. “Oh man…”

Cait burst out laughing, rocking forward and pressing her cup to her chest. “Oh my God, that is so funny. Check out the big bad mayor going to water!”

“Aww,” I said, cocking my head to the side as though the sight was adorable, as opposed to nauseating. “It’s like he’s being touched for the very first time.”

Hancock beamed dopily out of the puddle that he was slowly melting into. “Right now, I couldn’t give a crap what you bastards are saying. This is _so good._ ” He forced his heavy eyes back up towards Eve. “Where the hell d’you learn to do this anyway, Munch?”

Eve smiled blithely, that expression she so often wore when she was trying her utmost not to touch upon the grief we all knew rested heavy at her core. For all the pretence, it was at once, the saddest expression I have ever seen on a person’s face. _Tears of happiness, smiles of sadness…_ An expression for suffering too heavy to otherwise convey. With such weight to it, that only mere fragments could float to the surface; brief cracks into which a glimpse of her intrinsic, inner most turmoil could be attained.

“Remember how I told you that my husband was honourably discharged from the armed forces due to injury sustained in the line of duty?” She said, evoking a compliment of nods from the rest of us. “Well, he was actually a little more than your… standard injury. He suffered third degree burns in a vehicle explosion… his face and all down his left side.”

“Oh God…” Piper murmured, eyes widening in palpable sympathy. She pressed a hand gently to her mouth; such a feminine gesture of empathetic concern and affront. “It’s a wonder he was able to survive something like that. He must have been in a lot of pain.”

Eve nodded, lips pressed together for a moment as she fought against the mental tides that pushed against the boundaries of her restraint. Having slammed together some sort of mental shutter, she continued. Her voice sounded a little heavier; as though her vocal cords had thickened. “He… was. That’s why when I first saw ghouls here in the Commonwealth I thought… well, I thought that they must be in a lot of pain as well.” She glanced up at Hancock, almost apologetically. “Parts of his skin looked very similar to what yours does and he struggled with the pain and the discomfort from that. The tightness and the aching and the itching. I got pretty good at nursing up the old injuries… just trying to help him to relax and go to sleep.” Her thumbs kneaded the vein lines of his hand that little harder. His fingers flexed out, stretched to the point of his nails with each stroke. The tips dripped water back into the bucket – _plunk, plunk, plunk._ “Of course, we had all kinds of creams and treatments and skin grafts and whatnot back then that helped to ease the pain. Not to mention synthetic technology was on the rise and because of his service, he was able to receive some synthetic grafts for his face. It improved his self-confidence but it really didn’t help with that deep tissue pain and whatnot.”

Nick leaned forward in his seat, his glowing eyes alight with realization. “That explains why you weren’t so squeamish when you first met me… or any of the ghouls you came across whilst we were travelling.” His synthetic temples creased in, causing his eyes to slope. His mouth draped down in either corner, curtaining his chin. Compassion. “It also explains why you were sympathetic.”

“Yes… poor Master Nate struggled terribly with those injuries.” Codsworth murmured from his seemingly eternal vigil by the clothes horse. He paused to offer up a melodramatic sniff that really wasn’t required; given his complete lack of nostrils, runny or otherwise. “He was very fortunate to have you beside him through that difficult time, mum.”

Eve kept that big, fake, kabuki like smile firmly plastered to her lips; refusing to be swayed the emotions you know were just simmering there beneath the surface. “It wasn’t just me. Knowing that Shaun was on the way gave him a reason to stay strong and keep going too. He really wanted to be a Dad… more than anything.” She paused, running her fingertips down either side of Hancock’s own crumpled looking fingers, massing down towards the tips before then releasing them. She then gently used her thumb to push back the cuticle and massage the nail. Hancock looked as though he had died and gone to Heaven at this point. Envy is a sin, so I am told but it was difficult not to feel just the slightest bit jaded given how long it has been since someone gave me the old proverbial rub down. “Having someone else who was depending on him took him out of his self-pity… helped us become a team again.”

Hancock’s quilted, somnolent eyes blinked up at her; as a dim bulb blinkered on somewhere in the recesses of his contented, near dulled with pleasure, brain. “So, _that’s_ why you got pregnant.” He said, his tone suggesting that the fact Eve had decided to procreate was somehow inexplicable. Even more surprising, she gave a small conciliatory nod. I guess this was a conversation the two of them had had at some point. “I remember you told me, back at Goodneighbor that you felt like a coward because you didn’t feel like you were ready to be a mum. But you did it for your old man, didn’t you? To help give him a reason to keep going.”

Eve seemed to muse on this for a moment, her fingers pushing distractedly at Hancock’s hands in a pattern that had lost any sort of conscious direction. “He never pressured me into it… but seeing him struggle everyday… watching him sink into that terrible depression.” She sighed, tilting her head back as those emotions finally leaked over the surface, like a full cup having water continually poured into its already brimming interior. Her lashes bore beads of tears, each suspended so perfectly they looked as though they had been expertly threaded into place. “I just thought that… if there was something I could _do_ to help give him back a reason to live… that I couldn’t afford to be selfish about it. I was so scared of losing my own identity, that I nearly lost the man that I loved instead. So I just…” She bit her lip, making a firm ‘cutting off’ gesture with her hand. “Pulled myself together, told myself to grow the hell up and make the decision. And Nate… Nate was a great dad.” She shrugged, tearful, staring down at Hancock’s dripping hands with her thoughts suspended centuries deep into the past. “He was a really great dad. He was a much better father than I was a mother, that’s for sure.”

Codsworth whirred crossly as he zipped around the sofa, jabbing his pincer extension at her admonishingly. “Now, you mustn’t say such things, mum. You were an absolutely wonderful mother. I know that sometimes you were afraid… and I know that sometimes you weren’t happy and that you struggled. But you never gave up, not for an instant!” I imagined that if he were capable of expressions, the old bots face would have been pinched reprovingly. “And here you are now, fighting so hard to get young Shaun back! Now if that isn’t the very definition of what a good mother is, why I don’t know what is!”

“Codsworth’s right.” Nick established, relaxing back in his chair and fishing a pack of cigarettes from the chest pocket of his dull colored trenchcoat. He lit the tip with a match, throwing the curve of his chin into amber tinted clarity before shaking it out with a few fervent flicks of his metallic hand. “The only bad parent in this world is one who harms or neglects their children. I imagine that every parent worries that they’re not doing a good enough job when it comes to raising their children. Everyone’s different after all.”

Eve’s big, shiny eyes stared at him desperately. Jesus, I’d never known anyone who wanted to be condemned so much as this woman. “But you see, Nick, that’s what makes it so shit. I didn’t want to have children… not at all. I thought I might start to get all those urges while I was pregnant, but I just hated every fucking moment of it. I felt like a big fat pig just waddling about the place. And then when Shaun was born, I… I thought that that bond would develop naturally and I would really start to have all those stupid, dopy feelings that other moms talked about.” She sighed, lip tucked between her teeth; looking truly bereft. “But it never happened. I just felt… resentful instead. Can you even imagine that? _Resentful_ , of a _child!_ ” She sank her head down, submitting to her shame and Hancock’s eyes bore into her hairline; wanting, I could only suppose, to ruffle her head just as he had always done when she needed cheering up. She kept a firm hold of his hands however and it was him now squeezing her, not the other way around. “When the doctors diagnosed me with post-natal depression, my father suggested that we purchase a Mr Handy so that I was able to take a break from being around Shaun. Just… give me time to recover, you know? That’s when we got Codsworth.” She lifted her head now, smiling gratefully over at the hovering, fretful bot. “And you were an absolute godsend, honey. You have no idea. You gave me the time to recover. The time that I really needed. And after a while, I started feeling okay. I started thinking, you know, _‘I can do this’_. And that’s when I started really being able to connect with Shaun, with some of that pressure to be the main provider taken away.” She smiled sadly. “And then the bombs fell. Pretty pathetic, huh? Sometimes I think there’s something missing in my brain as a woman… it shouldn’t be this difficult…”

“Blue, you’re being way too hard on yourself.” Piper said softly, turning her tin of Purified water about in her hands; occasionally picking at the label so that strips of paper littered the sofa in a semi-circle about her crossed knees. “Not every woman wants to be a mom. And it’s wrong to assume that we’re all the same like that. Just because you didn’t want to be a mom and just because you struggled with it doesn’t mean that you aren’t a good mother.” Her eyes lifted now and stared at Eve with a fierceness most of us had only seen reserved for when she was fervently pursuing a story. “Look at everything you’ve done, everything you’re _doing_ to get your son back. That speaks volumes!”

“Not to mention that you went through with something that scared the hell out of you simply because you wanted to save your hubby’s life.” I contributed, thinking it was unnecessary to embellish further but wanting Eve to know that we were all truly on board with her. That she needed to cut this ridiculous self-flagellation out. “You’re not a bad person, Cherub.”

“And you’re definitely not a coward.” Hancock stated, smiling with one side of his lip as he squeezed her hands more firmly, encouraging her to look up and into his eyes. “So stop being so down on yourself. No one is judging you or expecting you to be all ‘goo-goo-ga-ga’ over children. You’re your own person. You’re Evelyn Anne Hallows.” Despite his earlier warnings, he lifted one hand from the bucket and pressed his thumb and index finger gently to her chin; where her scar was located. He guided her face up, pushing the issue with the eye contact which she finally, begrudgingly gave. “Being a parent is only a part of who a person is. And it’s pretty obvious that everyone here thinks that that person we’re looking at, is pretty okay. So, try not to beat yourself up over it and just keep doing what you’re doing to my hands, yeah?”

Eve smiled, chuckling self-mockingly as she reached up and rubbed at her eyes. “Sure.” She said, sparing a moment to marshal her composure before taking a hold of Hancock’s hands and submerging them beneath the water again. “Thanks guys, I didn’t mean to get so maudlin about all that.”

It was a strange thing to apologize for and an even stranger thing to experience guilt over. Guess I’m not one to talk. It is often those things that we experience most deeply that we wish to remain _sepulchre._ I know that just as well as anyone. Where these shades of mine come in handy. An appropriate name ‘shade’. A filter both in and out.

The evening rolled on uneventfully for the most part. Hancock preened and primped over his unexpected and undeserved hand massage, whilst MacCready and I openly and frequently resented him his good fortune. A few more drinks were consumed and then Codsworth and Nick put their literal and uh, metaphorical metallic feet down and insisted that we all drag our butts off to bed at the virginly hour of 10:30am. It was just as I was plumping up my pillow and searching through my mishmash of linen for my teddy bear, that I was alerted to a commotion out in the hall.

Eve had virtually catapulted herself out of the ‘girls’ room; hands flailing erratically and jogging up and down on the spot as though the carpet were blistering hot. Her lips were wrenched back in fear, exposing those perfect twin rows of white teeth which could ONLY have been achieved if you had the luxury of being born Pre-War. She shrieked and gibbered like a terrified monkey; dancing about in a circle and all but shedding the white man’s shirt that she had chosen to wear that evening. Unfortunately, for Hancock, she failed to succeed in this little venture.

“Spidie… fucking big, dirty _spider!!_ ” Eve shrieked, all but sobbing as she hurtled for the far side of the cabin, as fast as her bare, newly shaved legs would take her. I wondered if she thought the spider might pursue her out of the room if she dithered long enough by the doorway; which was a cruel but at the same time, equally amusing thought. “One of you… one of you male people go and deal with it!! Please!”

It was the only time we really ever got to see Eve lose her shit. Girl had no tolerance for bugs; a little phobia that she had extracted from the old world and short sightedly brought along for the ride into the future. Where the bugs had all supped liberally on the teat of radiation and expanded their total approximate girth by roughly one hundred percent. Radscorpion’s, Sting Wing’s, Bloat Fly’s, Radroaches, Blood bugs, any of these suckers and Eve could usually be found hoofing as far as she could in the other direction; all on the pretence of finding a good ‘vantage point’, of course. But nothing gave her the hysterical heebie jeebies more than spiders.

I know, right? Possibly the very smallest of the bugs to be found in the Wasteland and the least dangerous to boot. But in each and every instance that Eve has found herself confronted with one of these little eight legged marvels of nature, she took off like a bolt out of the blue; with an expression on her face that most of us would make when getting pursued by a randy Mutant Hound.

Such moments were of course gold for Hancock. Time for her big strapping piece of walking beef jerky to save the day. Though he was forced to shove Nick and myself out of the way in order to come to the rescue. (I just liked busting his chops where possible and Nick was simply being his usual responsible self. MacCready was pretending as though he hadn’t heard a thing; face buried deep into the pages of his upside down Grognak the Barbarian comic. Someone else in the room wasn’t exactly ‘spidie’s’ biggest fan either.)

“I got it, Munch. All good.” Hancock said, bracing one hand against the doorway and balancing himself so that he was able to reef off one of his boots. He swaggered into the room as though confronting a group of Raider’s conducting a savage home invasion and not two seconds later a loud ‘WHUMP came from within as his boot struck the wall. He emerged with the ‘oh so terrifying beastie’ scrunched up in his handkerchief; smaller than most of us had expected. Not much bigger than your average radrat. Eve stared back at him from beside the fireplace mantel; her big eyes swimming plaintively in the light dancing from the still lingering flames.

“Why’d you kill it?” She said, staring with miserable regret at the poor, mangled creature; whose guts was currently seeping out into the once white fabric of Hancock’s handkerchief. “Couldn’t you have just… caught him and put him outside? What if he had kids or something?”

We all exchanged glances at this; unsurprised that Eve would have some ridiculous concern as this but still finding it… a little charming in its way. Obtuse, but charming.

Hancock’s brow quirked sceptically at her and he gestured with the arachnid sopped handkerchief; causing Eve to flinch back somehow further against the brickwork.

“You just _asked_ someone to go in and kill it.” He reminded her, wriggling his foot down in his boot. It was still loose from where he had taken it off earlier. “If you wanted it relocated you should have just said so.”

“All I asked was someone to do _something_ about it!” Eve protested, refusing her part in this ‘tragic’ exchange.

“It’s true.” I clarified, having very good retention when it came to things said in conversation. Or… hysterical interactions occurring in the later hours of the evening in a small Podunk hallway in the middle of nowhere. “But look at it this way, Cherub. If Hancock hadn’t thoughtlessly assassinated the spider-” I got a dirty, unappreciative scowl from Hancock at this. “– it might have come crawling back into the room at some point during the night.”

Eve shuddered at the prospect of this and then her already bulgy, frog like eyes widened even more. “Oh God…” She whispered, voice trembling just as much as her broad shoulders were currently doing. Her eyes darted suspiciously back towards the girls room. “What if… what if there’s _more_ of them in there? What if they were all on… some sort of freaky family holiday together?”

Hancock pinched his bottom lip between his teeth and glanced over his shoulder. “Didn’t see any more of the buggers in there, Munch. But you might have a point… could be risky. Might be out for revenge after seeing the big daddy bite the dust.”

And that was quite enough for Eve to make up her mind. “Fuck it. I’m not staying in that room, not after that. I’ll come and sleep out here tonight.”

Hancock laughed as he approached the fire, into which he tossed the (hopefully) dead remnants of the spider. Eve had since evacuated her corner and was curled up on the sofa; staring in dread at the flames as though terrified the creepy-crawly would rise Phoenix like from the ashes; with renewed vigour and even hairier legs than before. Hancock turned on her, shaking his head at the quivering ball she had somehow managed to curl her broad, muscular body into.

“Munch; you’re about as tough as an old lady’s lavender silk-handkerchief.” He teased, shaking out his own hankie before striding about the sofa and heading to the bathroom to wash it out. I suppose. Eve glared after him, clearly not appreciating the ‘lavender silk-handkerchief’ remark but I think she was still too afraid to put her feet back on the floor; just in case another spider should come pelting out from under the sofa and run across her toes or something. She just remained there, curled against the arm; rocking a little with her mouth pressed against the bridge she had made of her crossed forearms.

“Eve, I seriously doubt there are any more spiders in the-” Piper made a stab at bringing Eve back around to returning to the girls room but I signalled for her to let it go. For unlike Piper, I was in possession of information that cast this whole scenario into new light.

Such as the fact that earlier that night, I had stepped outside for some fresh air and decided, since I’d been such a good boy lately, that I would treat myself to a cigarette and a small stroll about the place. Who should I have seen whilst taking myself on my little constitutional but Mayor John Hancock; crouched by a big old pine just on the borders of the settlement. Confusing at first but the situation quickly clarified itself when (from my safe vantage point behind yet _another_ suitably placed tree) I saw him climb back to his feet, a sealed jar in his hand. What was in the jar, you ask? Why nothing less than the self-same big black hairy bastard that had accosted Eve in the bedroom.

But why, I hear you asking. Why, when Hancock clearly _lurves_ Eve so much; would he stoop so low as to scaring her with the very thing that she has such a profound phobia about? Ha, well, my beautiful and ever increasingly tipsy and intoxicated darlings, _this_ is where the plot thickens.

You see, Hancock had gotten the shits on (happy accident with that pun there, guys!) when, after first arriving at the settlement; the girls and boys had been relegated to two separate stay rooms. Mainly because folks were running back and forth to the toilet all the time, the gender segregation kind of served the purpose of protecting everyone’s individual privacy.

But this did not suit Mayor John Hancock. No sir. Someone had gotten a tad spoilt; getting to sleep next to Eve every single night. Getting to wake up and watch, hoping against hope that the buttons on her sleep shirt might have accidentally come undone whilst she was snoozing… Maybe brushing an errant strand of hair aside as she reposed there; elegant and beautiful, snoring like a steel pipe sodomizing a cat as they both went through a high powered industrial buzz saw together.

And given that everyone was now for the most part recovered, I’m sure Hancock was of the expectation that the sleeping arrangements should return to normal too. He was going through Eve withdrawal, poor little baby. But no, nothing looked to have changed so far. As such, your ever so cunning and devious Mayor, opted to take matters into his own hands. Yes, that’s right; he _planted_ that spider. I _know._ Who could have ever imagined a Politician stacking the deck in his favor? I’ll give you all about five seconds to absorb this unflattering truth about your cherubic mayor before we move on.

So, having put the not so complicated pieces of the puzzle together, I decided to let the cat out of the bag and bring Eve into the fold. I caught her on her way back from the bathroom later that night; still looking spooked as her eyes darted to each and every possible corner, crevice or dark space within which an eight legged adversary might lie in wait. I was unsurprised to find that Hancock had ‘nobly’ chosen to remain in the lounge area with Eve for the night. He was perched up on the sofa; slurping from another glass of scotch. Refilling Eve’s temporarily neglected wine glass almost to overflowing point. Subtle. Real, fucking subtle.

“Eve. My dear and much cherished friend. For how long have we known one another now?” I queried dramatically, taking Eve’s tanned, smooth hands between my own and squeezing them. In spite of the fear near crippling her system, Eve smiled with that familiar sweetness that had inspired her nickname of ‘Cherub’ in the first place and returned the squeeze in kind.

“Five months, Doe. Five, wonderful, irreplaceable and immeasurably happy months.” She murmured, tilting her head back; shoulders lifting as she sighed softly. As though we were ought but two young lovers; caught betwixt of some old time romance that saw us romping, unbridled and delirious through an entropic wonderland of wildflowers, woodland creatures and cartoon birdies that would alight to our shoulders and sing to the dancing sway of our aching hearts. I sighed, bringing her palm to my chest; letting her feel the steady beat that resonated firm and unwavering from within.

“What paths we have travelled together; us two. What dangers we have unearthed. What sweet seductions lie before us still!” I exposited, turning and casting a glance towards Hancock; certain that if he saw us standing here like this, he’d be on his feet in a jealous heartbeat. Fortunately, he was more absorbed with staring into the dying flames of the fireplace. I turned back to Eve; staring through the dim shade my glasses cast across her face. “My darling; I must confess. I have come upon knowledge of which I’m certain will cause you great distress. And what’s more; to question the trust of one whom you would call friend!” I twisted my head off to the side; bringing the back of my hand to my forehead dramatically. “But alas; I have little choice! For you have but every right to know! And in keeping such information coveted, I fear that my own soul shall be rent apart in the secreting of such torrid, sinister revelations!”

Eve laughed at this, though her eyes betrayed a small quiver of trepidation that my humorously phrased words had failed to adequately temper down. “Kind sir, you must unburden yourself! I insist!” She said, waving her hand lavishly through the air; hamming up the performance further still.

I brought my shoulders down, gesturing with my head for her to do the same. “Come closer…” I whispered, aligning my lips to directly beside her ear. She had showered just before bedtime and her skin still retained the fruit scent of some soap she had used. I whispered to her; my voice a mere furtive susurration. “John Hancock… planted that spider in your room.”

Eve took a step back, genuinely affronted by the information. She glanced over to where Hancock lounged leisurely upon the sofa; not precisely the paragon of innocence but a person who Eve, I’m quite certain, trusted to always have her best interests in mind.

“He… what?” She stared back at me, brows mounted upon her forehead questioningly. “Why would he do that?”

 _Because he wants you to succumb to his ardent will and plant his seed within the receptacle of your womanhood_ , I almost said but managed to smother down the impulse at the last moment. It was hard though. I mean, she wasn’t a dumb woman but this level of ignorance was just frustrating to the enth degree. “Guess he just… thought it would be funny.” I said lamely, because it was quite obvious to all involved that Hancock wasn’t the type to play a prank simply for shits and giggles. He was a multi-faceted individual; wherein every action served some further, dualistic purpose. Eve of course, didn’t seem to buy this explanation and continued staring out over at Hancock; lips twisted off to the side unappreciatively.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t _funny._ ” She established, untruthfully because the entire group had in fact gotten a huge, albeit guilty, laugh out of her reaction. “I just don’t get it… after seeing how upset I was earlier. Why would he just…” She shook her head, eyes flinching near closed in her anger. “Oooh… he’s _so_ gonna get it. I’ll wait ‘til he falls asleep and then I’ll put his hand right back into that bucket of warm water. Piss all through his sleeping bag. Serve him right, too.”

“Much as I like the idea of Hancock waking up in a big puddle of his own wee, I do in fact have another little idea that’s been rolling around in my noggin.” I suggested, wriggling my shoulders as seductively as I was able. Hoping I could entice Eve around to my way of thinking. “Stick it to him good and proper. Know what I’m saying?”

Her curiosity piqued, Eve shared a conspiratorial smile with me; fingers pressed to her chest as she leaned closer.

“Tell me more.”

**~**

We struck in the dead of the night. Well… it was closer to 2am, so it was actually more the dead of the morning. And we didn’t ‘strike’ so much as tiptoe to Hancock’s side; pleased to find that he had conked out on his back, face angled down slightly to the left. Nick was perched on a chair by the doorway; running some diagnostics. I can only assume as such because he hadn’t yet queried as to what it was precisely that Eve and I were doing. Why we were hunkered down at Hancock’s side with Eve’s Pip-Boy lighting our way and her makeup bag resting by his peaceful, soon to be hilariously beautified, features.

We set to work; quietly and methodically (if you didn’t count the occasional amused yet barely suppressed snicker). It required a gentle touch; so as not to rouse sleeping-soon-to-be-beauty. But Eve was a practiced hand at applying makeup and I was used to sneaking about with a dainty step and as such, we managed to dance that ever delicate line between ‘firm enough to make a mark’ and ‘not so light as to tickle him awake’.

I took a tube of lipstick from the bag, twisting the base of it and then examining the product as it slid into view. It was difficult to tell in the putrescent green glow of the Pip-Boy and would have been even worse if I’d kept my glasses on. Fortunately, I wasn’t _that_ dedicated.

“This one, you reckon?” I whispered, tilting it in Eve’s direction for her appraisal. She glanced away from the blush she was in the midst of applying to Hancock’s cheeks; hmmed and then shook her head.

“Far too brown. He’s _definitely_ more a spring colour.” She said, taking the lipstick and ever so gingerly sliding it back into some unseen recess of her bag. From within, she extracted another tube, glanced at the name along the side (Ring-a-ding pink, or something equally stupid) and handed it to me with an eloquent little flourish of her wrist. “I was thinking… this one maybe?”

I took the tube and twisted the base. A tube of bright pink lipstick appeared; possessed of an almost metallic hue. I could only imagine how it would look on Hancock’s creviced face.

“Ooh yeah… definitely fuschia. He heh.” I giggled; deliberately, though very gradually applying large, pronounced butterfly lips to what remained of Hancock’s caved in mouth. The resultant effect was disturbing to say the least; though the green light of the Pipboy really didn’t help any. “Shit… he looks like a dead hooker that’s been left on the street for a couple of weeks.”

I saw the white of Eve’s teeth flash in the corner of my vision; her hand occupied with brushing some awful vibrant blue eyeshadow onto Hancock’s eyelids. “That’d be some good quality makeup to have lasted through all that degeneration. They’d have to put that in their slogan, wouldn’t they? “Pegleg Cosmetics: So convincing, people won’t believe you’re decomposing.”’

“You know, that’s what dead song writer’s do: decompose.” I said, reaching over and prodding my elbow softly into Eve’s bicep. She sank down, shoulders hefting with an impatient sigh and she made a mocking little ‘ha ha’ sound.

“You’re a riot.” She hissed back, putting away the dainty eyeshadow brush and taken out a small square compartment that had an almost glittery brown bronzer in it. Her fingers delved into the dark void of the bag and emerged at long last with a slightly larger, distinctly flatter brush and she used this to highlight the near indistinguishable peaks of Hancock’s cheekbones.

“Wonder when the last time was the old boy had any colour in his face?” I mused, filling in the last of Hancock’s beautifully coloured lipstick before capping the tube and stowed it away.

“He’ll have enough in his face come tomorrow after he figures out what you two knuckle heads have done to him.” Came Nick’s unimpressed (and not at all lowered) voice from the corner by the doorway. Eve and I both jerked in fright and she was forced to quickly bat away the brush as it tilted wildly out of her hand; almost landing flat between Hancock’s eyes. She managed to alter its course enough so that it landed on the floor but we still both held our breath; waiting to see if even this tiny, carpet dulled ‘plink’ would be enough to rouse the beast.

Hancock, surprisingly, was a pretty deep sleeper. You would think the guy would doze with one eye perpetually open; given how many folks wanted to do away with him at any given point in time. But then, he also liked to drink and take Chems and the combination was more than enough to knock a man twice his size (so of course, of average height) off of his feet. But then, I’ve seen him randomly jerk awake with less provocation before and he nearly always slept with a knife under his pillow. It’d be just our luck for him to wake, all confused and shit and start slashing about like a panicked safari guard beating back diphtheria riddled Bloodbugs.

Hancock snorted softly; giving a few small smacks of his painted lips before shuffling about in his sleeping bag and making to turn over. Eve quickly reached down, pressing softly to his upper arm; trying to pin him in place without waking him. I kept a hand pressed tight over my mouth; stifling giggles that were threatening to erupt at any moment. Nick’s phosphorene yellow eyes stared from the darkness like a haughty, unimpressed owl keeping vigil over a quiet field.

Hancock must have been _really_ out of it that night because Eve triumphed in their unconscious exchange and his shoulder slumped back down, recumbent against the bedroll. A soft, annoyed sounding groan lilted out from between his lips before, with another little grumbly lip smack; he returned to softly snoring. Eve and I both eased air out of our lungs; relaxing our spines good and proper. I turned on Nick, pressing my index finger tight to my lips.

“Geez Nick! You sure picked a hell of a time to return to the world of the living!” I whispered as Eve carefully retrieved her bronzer brush and spread her fingers through the bristles in order to clean it. I could see Nick’s lips curling up to form a slight smile; courtesy of the small amount of light distributed by his eyes.

“You know he’s never in a good mood when he wakes up. Gonna be in even less of one when he sees the job you’ve done on him.”

“Fairs, fair.” I said firmly, taking out an eyebrow pencil and very, _very_ carefully drawing some thick and strangely whirly looking brows on the ridges where Hancock must have once possessed hair. “This is exactly the sort of comeuppance he deserves for playing such a mean trick on Cherub.”

“Not to mention for calling me an ‘old lady’s lavender silk handkerchief.’” Eve added, delicately layering eyeliner across the lids of Hancock’s eyes. A surgeon worthy performance; given that the slightest mistake could result in the liquid seeping inside (with no eyelashes of course, to keep such things out) and waking Hancock up in burning, watery agony. Eve’s tongue was pinched between her lips in concentration; reminding me uncannily of Hancock’s own visage as he had cleaned our guns only a few days earlier.

“Payback’s a bitch, Ms Hancock. And now, thanks to my generous attention to detail, so are you.” I said, batting my own eyelashes and blowing a little kiss into the air above Hancock’s even more disconcerting looking face. “We done here?”

“Just applying the final touches…” Eve murmured, eyes pinched near closed with concentration. Must have been difficult, given that she really needed glasses to see properly and hadn’t had the fortune to come across a pair that matched her prescription. Nonetheless, she was a perfectionist and even in the poor light of the Pipboy and the restrictions of her crappy vision, she managed to craft those streaks of black into little Egyptian style flicks that near matched her own. Only she greatly exaggerated Hancock’s, so that they curved nearly all the way up to meet the edges of his now ludicrously crayoned on brows.

“I can’t believe he’s slept through the entire thing.” Nick observed, having mercifully lowered his voice. “Was he just more Chem addled than usual tonight? Or did that hand rub just send him into a delirious coma?”

“Bit ‘a both, I reckon.” Eve respired, capping the eyeliner pen before emulating someone holding a drink up to their mouth and throwing it back. “Plus, I fed him a few Bourbons. He always goes into a deep sleep after he’s drunk Bourbon.”

“Aww, don’t underestimate how great your powers of massage are, Cherub.” I teased, leaning close to her and all but whispering my next words down her ear and into her brain. “Poor guy probably hasn’t been touched like that since before he went ghoul. He’s probably deep in wonderland right now, dreaming of roping you into wedded shackles and forcing you to rub his decrepit little feet whilst he drinks Bourbon out of your navel.”

I didn’t duck in time and Eve’s well practiced palm smacked the back of my head with a sound not unlike a fish being dropped onto a wet plank.

“Oh shut your casserole hole. Anyway, we’re done. Disperse.”

I gave a little salute and both Eve and myself belly crawled back towards her bed roll; less than two feet away from Hancock’s, of course. We took our time, bellies to the floor like soldiers hunkering down in the trenches of wars many centuries past. I held up the opening of Eve’s sleeping bag and she wriggled gingerly down into the depths of it; passing me her makeup bag, which I was to return to the bathroom on my way back to the ‘men’s’ room.

“Nightie-night.” I chuckled, giving Eve a little fist bump before Ninja crawling back towards the hallway; Nick tittering all the while in the background. I carefully replaced the makeup bag without switching on the bathroom light and then wriggled and writhed my way back into the ‘boys’ room; comprised now of only myself, MacCready and Codsworth.

MacCready was still awake surprisingly; stretched out on his own belly with his sleeping bag pulled over his head and a torch arcing light out from somewhere beneath his chin. I think he was finishing up his sixth Grognak the Barbarian comic book; having precious little to do besides read as we recovered. He looked just like a big kid trying to hide his late night indulgences from his parents. Something he picked up from the old days, maybe?

The torch light flicked briefly in my direction and I slashed my hands wildly through the beam; hissing at him to turn the thing away from the hall. He did so and I saw his thick brows arch at me curiously as the glow settled once more beneath his chin. 

“What on earth you been doin’ out there for so long?” He asked, watching as I carefully eased the door shut behind me before rolling like a loose hot dog weenie across the floor towards my sleeping bag. I wriggled down into it, pulled my pillow in under my noggin and took a moment to go over everything in my head. Had I done… yes. Had I put back… yes. Was Hancock gonna be… oh hell, yeah.

Smiling, satisfied with my nights accomplishments; I slung my arms back behind my head and settled down with a happy sigh.

“You’ll see in the morning.” I said, taking the time to finally reply, though not resolve, MacCready’s query. He looked as though he was going to push further but shrugged instead and returned his attention to the final few pages of his comic; satisfied that in the morning, his curiosity would be sated. As for me, it was all I could do to squash all that nervous, giggling energy down deep and fashion up some other, less mischievous and far duller image to help lull me into a sedate enough state that sleep was finally able to slide its hooks into my consciousness and carry it away.

I woke relatively early, as per the norm; feeling satisfied by the quality of sleep I had enjoyed. It was difficult whilst on the trail to get quantity sleep; especially when you were moving about so much and pulling guard duty but a short, deep sleep could almost be just as good; so long as you really knuckled down hard and did it right. MacCready was snoring contentedly away, having passed out in the midst of reading that last, elusive page. The torch light has been pushed astray by the descent of his face and arced upward toward the mostly bordered over window; competing with the morning light for space among the shadows.

I reached around to my right and plucked my glasses up off of the teetering pile of Eve’s absconded romance/thriller novels; used in place of a bedside table I didn’t have. I slid them on and then lifted my sleeping bag donned legs up vertical to the rest of my body and with a ‘hayup’ (that sadly showed my age) swung them down and pulled myself into a seated position. Remaining firmly tucked into the sleeping bag, I struggled like a big fat grub onto my ‘feet’ and hopped for the doorway; edging it open as quietly as I was able. I shuffled for the main sitting area, nodding briefly to where I had assumed Nick would be sitting but met instead with an empty chair. Wait… he had mentioned something the previous evening about speaking with the town overseer; one last ditch attempt to get us supplies before setting back out on the road. A wise plan, given that Piper was still only tentatively recovered at best. That extra bite of food, drink of water or lone, solitary bullet could be the difference between life and death.

I shuffled further still, spying Eve and Hancock curled up on the floor in their respective bedrolls; Dogmeat firmly ensconced between them, his muzzle less than a few inches from Hancock’s ear. Poor guy. It’s a wonder he got anywhere with Eve, given the amount of people trying to Hancock-block him at every turn.

I shambled Frankenstein like to Eve’s side, lining up our ‘feet’ before easing myself onto my bottom and flopping down to lay beside her. She was facing in my direction, snoring away quite unconcernedly. I blew gently on her nose to wake her up; thinking all the while that it likely wasn’t the smartest idea to have my arms pinned inside of my sleeping bag. I would just have to attempt to roll away to safety if she woke up swinging.

Fortunately, it was more with a begrudging sense of acceptance that she roused; nose scrunching and eyes flinching as she grumbled and grunted her way back to consciousness. I waited, pulling my sleeping bag up over my head so that (hopefully) all that was visible was my face; beaming at her in that ‘annoying fucking morning person’ way she openly resented.

She blinked, reaching up and rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand. She yawned, her mouth becoming a great cavernous void; offering me a view that the dentists of the old world would have been envious of. Finally, her eyes blinkered open and focused blearily on me; her wavy hair trailing down over her forehead and cheeks like limp strands of weed, draped upon a log. I made my smile bigger; hoping that the effect was just as disconcerting as I intended it to be.

“Last night was… _incredible_ …” I breathed, turning my face towards the floor as though overcome by the passion of the memory. Eve blinked back at me, bringing her brows up derisively.

“The fact that I’m currently lying between two men and a dog suggests it’s the sort of night most often enjoyed by the fine folks of Goodneighbor.” Eve whispered back, cracking a smile at long last and reaching across to tap her fingernail to my nose. “A’morning.”

“A’morning to you. I see sleeping beauty still hasn’t roused.”

Eve shrugged in her sleeping bag, reaching up to pull strands of hair away from her eyes. “Still too early for him. You’re gonna have to curb that enthusiasm a bit.” She stared around the room, stopped and rubbed the heel of her hand into her eyes. Attempted a refocus. “Where’s Nick?”

I tilted my head towards the door. “Don’t know. Guessing he’s gone to check about supplies, something like that. Don’t worry. He probably shoved a generator or two against the door after he left; make sure no one broke in and got to precious little Evie.”

“Oh, blow it out your butthole.” Eve hissed before slapping her fingertips to her lips; smothering back shocked and delighted laughter. “Sorry… that was a… happy accident!”

“Yeah, I bet it was.” I said, smiling and sitting up at the sound of rustling from the hallway. Piper emerged, still wrapped in her sleeping bag the way that I was but yawning with every sluggish step she took. She made it to the sofa and pitched forward onto it face first; the leg portion of her bag flipping up behind her. She groaned painfully; as though wondering how and why she was awake.

“Morning!” I called cheerfully, which only made her groan the louder. A morning person in this group was about as popular as Judas Iscariot at a Disciples reunion. But Piper’s entrance had served a dual purpose; the couch had squeaked when she’d flopped down onto it and the noise had disturbed Hancock. He snuffled, grunted and rolled onto his back; away from Dogmeat. Eyes fluttering, he did his best to fight the approaching state of wakefulness; blue eyelids pinched resolutely shut. Keen perhaps to return to some nice dream he was having?

“Morning Hancock!” I yelled, loud enough to startle both Eve and Piper in turn. Hancock groaned unhappily, reaching up and rubbing the bridge of his nasal cavity. No doubt smearing some of his foundation.

“Oh God… why are you so happy?” He growled, dropping his hand and blinking torpidly at the ceiling. Eve, doing her utmost not to react, kept her own face pointed in the same direction.

“Sleep well, John?”

Hancock sighed, heaving himself out of his bedroll and climbing to his feet. He stretched, bones cracking and creaking to the point that he sounded like a mobile haunted house. Having depressed each of his joints, he turned about; rubbing the back of his neck and twisting his face from side to side, working the knots out there.

I felt, more than heard Piper stiffen behind me and I prayed she wouldn’t say anything. Eve had her lips pinched tight but her body twitched and quaked inside of her sleeping bag. I fought every natural impulse which attempted to rip the corners of my lips up into a giddy, satisfied smile.

Hancock looked… fucking ridiculous. I mean, if you’re a Ghoul lady and you’re able to wear foundation, I can only revere and salute you; because you are clearly far more talented when it comes to applying it than Cherub and I are. Hancock’s foundation looked as though it had been splashed onto his face by delivery method of a bucket; rivers of it leaking into the scars of his face where it had solidified like clay baked at the bottom of a dehydrated dam. It was Eve’s colour as well, which was far too dark on Hancock’s Caucasian complexion. It was also horribly blended; streaking down onto his neck in a pattern not dissimilar to that seen on a wonky heart monitor.

His lipstick meandered past the line of his thin lips; the cupid’s bow arching up to the degree that it near disappeared into his nasal cavity. The bright pink shade was even more startling and garish in the light of day and I could have done a much better job of applying it. Blotted heavily in some places, whilst too thin and crooked in others. Any other circumstance, Eve would be mortified by my shitty efforts but she was still too preoccupied with trying not to bust her gut wide open.

His eyeshadow was a brilliant hooker blue; the colour of the sky when there was not but a single cloud to mask the view. His cheeks were rosy, powder pink puffs and dark bronzer further illuminated the peaks and ridges. The overall effect straddled the delicate line between cartoony hilarious and horror movie traumatizing. He looked like a dead Kabuki concubine; brought back to roam the streets in the eternal hunt for brains and paying customers. His shirt was unbuttoned almost to his baggy sleep pants as well; not that this had anything to do with the makeup, but it was still gross.  

“Man…” He groaned, stretching his arms high above his head and popping a few more joints. Jesus, I’d heard a frypan of popcorn kernels over a hot fire make less noise than his body did. “I think I mighta actually died during the night. That’s the most awesome sleep I’ve had in a long time.” He pressed his palm into the stretch of muscle that joined his neck to his shoulder and rolled his head about a bit, his exaggeratedly painted lips sliding up so far he started to look disturbingly clown like. I was half tempted to wander up and stick a ball in his mouth. “Thanks again for giving the old digits a rub, Munch. Think that’s just what the doctor ordered, they’re feeling pretty good today.”

He flexed his hands out in front of him; curling the fingers in towards the palms and then squeezing them into fists. Yet more cracking; like someone scrunching cellophane to simulate fire sounds over the radio. He however seemed pleased with the result and near skipped to where his duffle bag was propped up in the corner; reaching in and fetching out the small, leather pouch in which he kept his tobacco. His made up face scrunched with annoyance.

“I swear I had more than…” His shadowed eyes swung over to stare at Eve suspiciously. “You been pilfering my Chark when I haven’t been lookin’, Munch?”

Eve might have looked annoyed if she wasn’t directing all her energy into maintaining her composure. If there’s one thing this girl truly resented, it was being accused of stealing. She claims, to this day, to have never stolen a thing in her life. Well, if you ignore that aforementioned foray into McDonough’s sleeping quarters but stealing from that guy never seems to qualify far as I’m concerned and she _did_ end up with her leg down a toilet, so sentence served really.

“As if I would.” She snorted, as close to contemptuous as she could manage whilst biting back burbling waves of giggles. Piper continued to stare expressionless and unblinking; her lips thankfully pinned tight together. “I’m not a little sneak thief like MacCready. I _ask_ before helping myself.”

This wasn’t quite the truth of the matter, however. Though Eve hadn’t helped herself to the Chark for personal pleasure, she and I _had_ removed it the previous night and sequestered it away in a small nondescript plastic bag; to be returned after our little stunt had run its course. Much like Hancock releasing the spider into the girls’ room, Eve and I had taken steps that would, with luck, force Hancock to venture out into the settlement proper. Where our glorious beautification could be appreciated by more than just the select few within this ramshackle little cabin.

Hancock sighed, rubbing his finger against his chin with confusion. “Sorry… shouldn’t have jumped ta conclusions like that. Coulda sworn I had half a pouch left though… And all my condoms are missing, ta boot…”

“Well… to be fair with the amount of Chems you use, not to mention how old and decrepit you are, it’s not surprising you have more holes in your memory retention than a block of swiss cheese.” I said supportively, for which I earned an entirely (though fabulously framed) unappreciative glare. Eve quickly jumped in, sensing, I think, that our chances of survival would be higher if we didn’t throw too many obstacles between Hancock and his stress management strategies. And given that he wasn’t getting any at the time, you just _know_ the guy was running on less dopamine than he was used to.

“There’s a Chem stall in the main thoroughfare.” Eve said, pointing a finger lazily towards the door before allowing her arm to freefall back towards her sleeping bag. “Chances are they’ll have some tobacco for sale. Or some cigarettes at least. You can tear them up for the baccy.”

Hancock’s annoyed expression sloughed slowly back into a smile; cracking foundation in its wake.

“Ah, you’re a doll, Munch.” He said happily, distributing a compliment to Eve for simply providing information. Though, let’s be honest, he would complement Eve for tying her own shoelaces, such was his ever present, gnawing desire to climb inside of her pants and set up shop for the indefinite forever. “Might just pop over right quick and grab some tobacco. Can’t start the day properly without waking and baking. You up for a walk, Munch?”

He turned back just in time to catch Eve and I quite obviously fighting back our laughter; Eve’s lips pressed so tight together they were at risk of forming a vacuum and sucking the rest of her face into her mouth. And me, trying without much success to shrink back into my sleeping bag like a scared turtle. Piper was perhaps the very worst; her stunned mullet expression having long since morphed into one of disgusted _‘What the fuck’_ bafflement. Now, much as I would like to say otherwise, Hancock is not a stupid guy. And nor was he so tired and out of it that he could just up and miss the obvious so easy. His generously detailed brows creased suspiciously.  

“Okay, what is it? Morning wood or something?” He asked, staring down at the front of his trousers, which sent Eve diving face first into her pillow to stifle her snorting hysterics. “No? Ass hanging out of my pants, what?” He peered over his shoulder, plucking at the seat of his trousers with his fingers as though to check whether they were still in place. Eve finally managed to foist herself up and waved her hand around; deterring him from any further guesses.

“No, no it’s nothing, nothing! Just…” I could see her face visibly trembling with her efforts not to crack again; her lips twitching spasmodically at the corners. “You just look… very handsome this morning, Hancock.”

Hancock stared at her; scribbled brow lifting into his foundation sloughed forehead.

“Okay, now I definitely know something is up.” He said, though it wouldn’t take a Nick Valentine to put _those_ pieces of the puzzle together. Eve was _so_ bad at hiding her emotions I wondered how we ever managed to effectively go undercover in any of the jobs we pulled off. “What the hell did you do; get into my stash while I was sleeping?” He pulled his Chem bag out from his duffle and quickly ferreted through it; numbering items off under his breath as he went. Satisfied that everything was in order, though more frustrated for not having uncovered the source of our amusement, he returned it and spun on us once again. “No… What, was I talking in my sleep? Making inappropriate _noises_ in my sleep? Porking my pillow, what?”

As Piper eventually succumbed and joined Eve in her laughter, I swung myself up into a sitting position; setting my expression to about as deadpan as I could possibly manage. “Hancock, buddy, you gotta calm down. There’s nothing wrong. I think those chems are starting to make you paranoid.”

He blinked at me; unamused and unconvinced. He might have seceded, if not for the two chuckling ninnies all but wetting their sleeping bags to either side of me but I think by that stage he’d just had enough of hanging around looking at us having some fun at his expense.

“Riiight… well, if I find out there’s funny business going on… there’ll be trouble.” He picked up his hat from where it was resting by the duffle, turning and jabbing its peak violently in my direction. “You’re already on a short shift for what you did to my hat, so don’t go giving me a reason to run a knife through ya, capishe?”

He strode for the door, sliding his already sock covered feet into his shoes and setting his hat atop his head. As an afterthought, he threw on his coat; as protection against the cold morning air. He turned back to bid us goodbye, hand clasping the doorhandle and was confronted once again with more, barely repressed sniggering. With an irritated sigh, he shelved whatever pleasantry he had been prepared to offer and shoved out into the cold of the morning; muttering contemptuously as he went. Once the door was shut and we knew for certain he was well and truly out of ear shot, we all gave in and collapsed in fits of laughter.

“Oh my God… I would trade my left arm for a camera right now!” Piper giggled, face pressed to her knees as she rocked on the sofa. “That is the funniest fucking thing I have ever seen! Did you guys _do_ that to him while he was asleep?”

“Ya y’betcha.” Eve cackled, exchanging a celebratory low five with me. “Shit, can you imagine how freaked out all the folks in Goodneighbor would be if they could see this?”

I fished my arms out of my sleeping bag and used them to emulate a dramatic series of mind explosions; which I’m pleased to say, set the girls to laughing again. 

“I can’t tell which is worse…” Piper chuckled, brushing back strands of loose hair which had escaped from her braid during the night. “The blue eyeshadow or the pink lipstick. Neither of which go together, mind you.”

Eve smacked her palm to the hillock in Piper’s sleeping bag that most likely concealed her right leg. “Hey come on, that’s not a bad job for being done in the dead of the night by the light of a Pip boy.”

“Why are you guys being so damn _noisy_ this time of the morning?” Came the thick Irish grumbling of none other than _CAAAAAAAAAIIITT!!_ (Heh, sorry. Never gets old with me). She, like the rest of us, had resolved to remain in her warm sleeping bag as long as possible and came slouching out of the hallway; reeking of hangover and regrets.

“What it is, cracker?” Eve said just seconds before Cait, having wearily circumnavigated the sofa, pitched herself forward and landing directly across Eve’s midsection, knocking the stuffing right out of her.

“Cherub, we’ve been over this. Being a quarter Native American does not qualify you as a soul brother.” I reminded her, smirking as Cait blearily rolled over to lay tucked in beside Eve; resulting in Dogmeat jerking out of the way with an annoyed snort.

“Why? I’m about as affirmative action as this group gets.” Eve protested, rubbing at her stomach where Cait had landed on her. Piper leaned forward, peering down at Eve sceptically.

“Did you forget that you happen to be travelling with a Synth and a Ghoul? Both of whom represent the two largest marginalized groups in the Commonwealth?”

“Who both happen to be white bread.” Eve insisted stubbornly, though I don’t know if Nick’s synthetic flesh constituted an attempt to have made him Caucasian, so much as it was the easiest color to pull over his exoskeleton. “I mean, we don’t even have any sexual diversity. Everyone here is straight.”

“Eh... actually, I’m sort of undecided when it comes to that stuff.” Cait remarked from her tightly curled nook against Eve’s side. I don’t think she liked sleeping apart from Eve, now that the two of them had grown so close. She and Hancock have _issues._ “I’ve had both girlfriends and boyfriends in the past. Don’t really care, so long as I like ‘em as a person. Evie, can you come take a shower with me?”

This remark, given the context of her previous statement, naturally evoked some concern in Piper and some, I’ll admit, scientific curiosity, in me. Eve, largely unbothered by this request, gave Cait an affectionate ruffle on the head.

“Just give us a couple of minutes, darl. Wanna see how long it takes before Hancock catches wind.”

Because Cait looked confused by the statement, Piper filled her in. “They put makeup on Hancock while he was sleeping.”

Cait’s mouth dropped open and she turned back to Eve and myself, wide awake all of a sudden and all too eager to remain so.

“Ya didn’t!”

I nodded. “We surely did.” And tensed, as the door started to slowly swing open. We all held our breath’s collectively, wondering if Hancock was likely to enter gun first or just toss a Molotov cocktail through the crack in the door. It was however Nick who stepped in out of the blustery cold, his expression much more grim than I preferred.

“Well,” He said, ignoring our collective series of disappointed sighs as he closed the door behind himself and pulled his collar flush with his jacket once more. “I have some okay news, some bad news and some slightly worse than bad news. How do you want to take it?”

I set my back to the front of the sofa; arms safely ensconced inside of my sleeping bag to retain as much body heat as possible. “I should like to take it with blissful ignorance, which I am able to maintain through your considerate negating of the true to withal facts of the situation of which you believe we are likely to respond to with a less than favourable reaction.”

Eve sighed, rubbing her forehead and giving Dogmeat a scratch on the head as he crawled over Cait and nestled up virtually on top of her. “That is _way_ too complex a statement for this early in the morning, Doe. Can you give us the ‘okay’ news first, Nick?”

“Well…” Nick drawled, stepping across to the fireplace and kneeling down to check on the gently licking flames. He fed another small log into the crumpling remnants of those that came before it. “The ‘okay’ news is that I managed to charm one of the sellers enough to nab some items for your breakfast.” He held up the small carry satchel he’d slung about his middle; the suspended section looking depressingly hollow. “It’s not much because the trader’s haven’t been through recently but better than nothing, I should hope.”

“And the ‘bad’ news?”

Nick had no time to reply because at that very moment, timed as perfectly as though it were a satirical theatre performance, the door slammed open and Hancock stormed in; his maidenly face contorted into a grimace of immeasurable fury. I tried to restrain my natural born impulse to bring my hands up and clap them together gleefully. Oh, he looked _so_ damned pissed off. The ‘Just found out you’d slept with his mother and never bothered to call her back and left her with a suspicious itch’ sort of pissed off.

“Oh, is _that_ the bad news?” Eve asked innocently, pointing towards Hancock’s simmering visage. He was so wild, I was surprised that all the makeup hadn’t evaporated off of his face and into a puff of smoke. He huffed out of his nose, like an angry Yao Guai about to charge but surprisingly maintained his calm long enough to ascertain some facts.

“Anyone who was not involved with this…” He said, holding out a finger and panning it sternly across the room, making eye contact with each of us as he went. I’m not ashamed to say that it sent the hair to bristling on the back of my neck. “Raise your right hand now.”

Nick, Piper and Cait all promptly and honestly, raised their hands into the air. Eve and I, bonded through this act of subterfuge, refused to surrender; standing strong and steadfast in the face of such threatening repercussions.

“How not surprising.” Hancock grumbled, striding across the room so quickly that it took the two of us by surprise. Eve jerked back, assuming that Hancock must have been coming for her but it was Dogmeat’s collar that he grabbed instead. Ignoring the animals low, throaty growls, Hancock tugged him up off of Eve and steered him over towards Nick. “Hold him.” He instructed, pushing the collar towards the Synth; who clutched it firm in his covered hand. Hancock slowly rotated back towards us; a pleasant smile made all the more sinister for the horrible peaks and sharp points the lipstick formed its edges into.

“You two.” He said, indicating to both Eve and I respectively. “Start running.”

Eve and I glanced at one another; her expression as nervous and uncertain as I’m sure mine was. We chuckled apprehensively, not entirely buying into what Hancock was saying. Sure the guy had a reputation for sticking it to the folks that crossed him but what were the chances of him turning on the woman that he loved and the… well, the guy he shared a good joke with occasionally?

“Heh he… you’re kidding, right?” I chuckled, tilting my head towards him and doing my utmost to develop some sort of latent telepathic powers. _Come on,_ I said through my mind; crunching my brows down so dramatically that they ceased to exist independently of the other. I could feel muscles in my face straining through my efforts to silently communicate. _Killing Eve is going to seriously affect your chances of doing the horizontal mambo with her. You know you’re just blowing smoke up our asses… right?_

Hancock’s ever the more calm and plaintive smile suggested otherwise. His teeth came into view, lips drawing back as he raised both hands, one at a time and cracked his knuckles. Eve sat up in her sleeping bag, an expression of genuine concern marring her features.

“Wanna wait around to find out?” He asked, the ever increasing pleasantness of his smile suggesting that whatever was next to come was going to be as far from pleasant as possible. I, for one, did not need to be told twice.

It took Eve and I less than half a minute to bust out through the Shanty door and hot tail it off into the greater Commonwealth Wasteland; running as though the Devil himself was on our heels. I had a slight edge on Eve; being completely dressed with pants, shirt, sunglasses and boots already on. Eve, being in possession of lesser enemies than I, was a rookie in the field of escape and was wearing only the night shirt and presumably the underpants that she had gone to sleep in. Barefoot as well, but hey, if there was a time to channel her one fourth Native American, this was it.

It didn’t help that she was weighed down by her, um… feminine specific attributes. As she ran, she was forced to press an arm across her chest to keep her breasticle region from hefting up and gifting her with a big old black eye. In the same vein, her other hand was occupied with pinning the shirt tail down to keep her backside covered. Distractions that could get her killed if she wasn’t a fairly strong and fast runner in the first place and I was surprised to find her keeping pace right beside me; the both of us providing the assorted possie of morning traders no never ending source of amusement as we hared off into the distance.

“Wait, wait –” Eve panted desperately, stumbling and near coming to grief as she struggled to keep up. “I don’t have any pants on!”

She would have to have been blind to not notice that I refused to slow down so much as a jot. Time was a precious commodity when a grumpy Hancock was dogging your heels. “Snooze ya lose, Cherub! Shoulda thought ahead like me!” I yelled, feeling the burn of lactic acid already laying siege to the fronts of my legs. Damn, could have at least done some stretches before leaving the boys room this morning. I was getting careless.

Eve snorted, sprinting desperately to keep up and still managing to hold her shirt from about five different angles at any given time. “Why… did you even… go to bed wearing your… _boots_?!”

I stared at her as though she was crazy. “IN CASE _THIS_ HAPPENED!! Haven’t you heard of being prepared?!”

“I didn’t think he was actually gonna be this angry!! I thought we’d all laugh and everything would be okay and no one would have to have their insides sprayed across the fucking Boston Wasteland!!” She twisted her head about, screaming out over her shoulder at the rapidly receding shanty. “IT WAS A JOKE, HANCOCK!! IT WAS ALL JUST A BIT OF FUN!!”

I turned just in time to see the shack door flying open as Hancock came racing out like a dog loosed from its pen; urged to chase the poor fake little bunny about the race track. He was thoughtful enough to have given us an approximate five second head start, which could have been the difference between life and death. Hancock had a decade on me and near two on Eve (filthy old man, am I right?) and I sure as shit spent more of my life running from things than he did. It might just have been enough… maybe…

For all my supposed internal confidence, I possessed not so much as a wit of it on this occasion; loosing a shriek not unlike that of a tea kettle.

“Holy shit, he’s coming! OH MY GOD!!” I squealed, pumping my arms and legs faster as Eve and I hit the crest of the hill and burst over the top like a torrent of water, almost flying down the far side. “I don’t know if it’s the fucking make up or what, but I’ve never been so scared in my entire Goddamn life!!”

“I know!” Eve bellowed back, kind of leaning back as she ran so as to artificially increase the length of her shirt tail, I think. “It’s like being chased by a fucking transsexual Death Claw!”

“Less cracking, more running!” I advised, trying to stagger my breaths in through my nose, fully filling my lungs before releasing out through my mouth. God damn… needed to cut back on the cigarettes. Too… much… _phlegm_! “Hancock on a head of steam is almost impossible to escape from! I’ve watched Raider’s try and do it… it was funny then! Now…. Now I know how they feel!”

Eve and I shelved the conversation long enough to dart around a copse of sad looking scraggly ass trees as behind us, Hancock cleared the hill in one Herculean bound and came tearing down after us.

“Jesus, he’s bearing down on us like a fucking tsunami!” Eve panted, her naturally protruding eyes near popping from their sockets. “You would think all that makeup would be slowing him down!”

“My hamstrings are seizing up…” I hissed from between my teeth, casting my eyes to the Heaven’s dramatically. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it!!”

Eve rocked sideways, bouncing her big shoulder against mine in what I suppose she figured was a supportive gesture. “Don’t you give out on me! We’re in this together, buddy boy! If I can run and keep my boobs from smacking me in the face than I goddamn expect you to push past your stupid restrictions!!”

There was a cracking sound from behind us as Hancock literally burst through the middle of the tiny tree crop that Eve and I had been sensitive enough to respect the needs of and circle around. He continued charging for us, made up face pinched with determination.

“Holy fuck, I’ve seen Super Mutant Suiciders less determined than him!” I yelled, throwing a couple of zig zags in to try and make myself harder to hit. You know… just in case he thought to throw something. “Sidewinder, _sidewinder!_ ”

“At least he’s not shooting at us…” Eve puffed asthmatically from my right… and left… and then right again. “Or throwing knives or Molotov cocktails.” She wheezed and spluttered so disgustingly I thought she might just turn up her toes and expire then and there. “I don’t think we’re going to outrun him, Doe!”

“Fuck outrunning him, I only need to outrun _you_!” I said, pumping my arms and legs faster in an attempt to pull ahead of Eve. I started gaining some ground too, leaving her in the metaphorical dust of my boot covered feet and my slender body, unimpeded by the weight of generous feminine assets.

“That’s a good… point.” Eve called just before I felt her slam into me like a charging bull, ducking underneath my arm and pinning it hard against her chest; bringing my own chest tight to the wall of her back. She used our forward momentum to flip me over; sending the sky and ground spinning across my vision before I landed with bone jarring force on my spine. She had used her arms to cushion my fall as much as possible, but my tailbone still took a lot of the impact; sending lightning bolts of pain strobing down through the backs of my legs.

All the air rushed out of my lungs with a violent ‘WHOOOF’ and I struggled to keep a hold of Eve’s arm; trying to prevent her from escaping. But she was too quick; tucking herself into a tight, forward roll which brought her straight back up onto her feet and back into a sprint with barely any effort at all. To this day, it is honestly one of the most astonishing acrobatic feats I have ever seen her pull off. Give the girl props, she is _strong_ as fuck.

I waved my fist furiously as her heels kicked up dust in my face; pieces of grit clinging to my lips and coating my glasses with a layer of grime.

“Traitor!!” I coughed at her receding backside, which she was still attempting to keep covered with one hand.

“You shall be rewarded in the next life!!” She called over her shoulder, not so much as slowing a jot. I wondered if I had time to scramble up and keep on going but Hancock was on me in a flash; his eyes furious ebony embers in his garishly made up face.

“She went that way!” I yelled, feeling that mine and Eve’s loyalty to one another had been extinguished the moment she had left me behind as bait. I jabbed my finger at Eve’s waning outline; surrounding by a halo of dust as her bare feet continued to spur the earth. “Let’s work together!”

“I’ll be back for you, Dipshit.” Hancock snarled, slowing down just enough to thrust his boot into my stomach; knocking the wind out of me for the second time running. I’ll say this much; he didn’t put nearly as much venom into it as I’d been expecting but then I think it was simply because he was a little off balance from his efforts in pursuing Eve.

He launched himself over my curled, pathetic form and took off into the Wasteland; leaving me to be devoured by some passing, hungry beastie. What happened next I can’t say, but I suspect (given that Eve came back sans half a shirt and with a big blazing hickey the size of Concord on her stomach-

 

** Evelyn Hallows **

**_Goodneighbor – Current Day…_ **

“Goddammit Dea- _Doe,_ I told you it wasn’t a mother fucking _hickey!_ ” I yelled, mine and Hancock’s mixed protests struggling to be heard above the din of raucous laughter and applauding that Deacon’s story was systematically receiving.

Deacon smiled menacingly, leaning forward over the lacy pinafore of his maids apron and staring (I suppose) into my eyes from across the room.

“Well, how should _I_ know what happened out there, Miss Evelyn Iscariot? Thanks to you, I wasn’t around to see it.” He sat back pompously on the stool, crossing his arms amidst a chorus of ‘aww’s’ and some teasing ‘boo’s’ directed towards Hancock and myself.

“Much as I would have _liked_ for it to be what you’re insinuating – sadly, it ain’t the case.” Hancock professed and he did look rather sad to be admitting it. No surprises, really. “Think I’d be acting such a space case if I’d been getting laid all those months back?”

“The man makes a good point.” Deacon conceded, tapping a finger to his chin; lips pursed introspectively. “You see, ladies and gentlemen; the mystery as to what actually happened that day out in the Wasteland, has never been solved! Eve and Hancock have kept very ‘hush-hush’ about it, for reason’s best known to themselves.” He leaned forward, his smile once again taking on that near malicious tone; suggestive of the sadistic pleasure he took in making other people squirm. “I think it’s about time they came clean; don’t you?”

Well of course the room naturally rallied to his cause; with as much verve and aplomb as they had most likely shown Hancock the night of the coup. God help us if Deacon ever decided to champion an army. Made me wonder just why he was so content to flit about in the background of the Railroad. His acerbic way with words and casual mastery of the human condition made him a sort of verbal savant. I guess we should count our lucky stars; that he is simply satisfied with using his wit to tease, rather than to manipulate. Deacon might have been a pot-stirring, secretive, frustrating little snowflake but he had a good heart; which was the truest thing I knew about him and the one facet of his character that I never doubted. And I knew that he was fond of me. And Hancock too; though their relationship had a rather rocky start.

Hancock leaned close, lowering his voice so that those who resided close to our table couldn’t hear his next words.

“You heard the man. Get on up there and tell the people the story.”

My face immediately flushed hot as blood rushed up to occupy my cheeks; my feet tingling and pricking with anxiety. “What – wh- why _me?! You’re_ the one who’s good at addressing large groups of people – you do it!”

Hancock gave me a long, withering look. “Because _I’m_ not the reason there’s a secret in the first place. I did you a favour, covering for your fuck up and now it’s time to pay the piper.” He pointed firmly towards the front of the room and the crowd tittered happily, seeing the two of us having our quiet little domestic.

I stared up at the stage, wetting my lips and sighing internally. It wasn’t like I was scared of public speaking… not really. Was I nervous about addressing the collective, sometimes intimidating folks of Goodneighbor; with whom I wanted to make a good impression, given that I was now loomed on the arm of their mayor? Fuck _yeah,_ I was.

But I suppose Deacon had just about ruined any chances I had in maintaining my dignity; given the details of the story he had just told. Doubt I could have possibly made it worse. And the only people who would really be annoyed with the ‘Wasteland secret’ were the people I had been travelling with in the first place; of which only Deacon was present. Far as I could see. Though he would naturally go and fill them in later, leading to my getting the proverbial smack to the posterior.

“Fine…” I groaned, taking a moment to fill up my wine glass before heaving myself up out of my chair. No way was I pulling this shit off without some liquid courage to souse my anxiety levels.

“That’s my girl.” Hancock smirked, giving a low-five version slap to my ass as I reefed my glass up off of the table. I turned on him as I strutted towards the stage, sticking my tongue out from the corner of my smiling mouth. He just laughed, lifting his glass and taking another sip as he watched me make my way onward to my impending humiliation. In spite of the unfavourable situation I had found myself in, I was pleased to see him looking so happy and at peace. The two of us back together and enjoying ourselves; sectioned off from the cruelties of the wider world for just this one small flash in time. I loved seeing him smile like that. It brought me more joy than I could ever express.

Deacon waited, perched on his stool like a smug little gargoyle, flashing those near perfect pearly whites at me as I lugged my big fat ass onto the stage. He tilted the microphone towards me slowly; encouraging me to take it. I leaned close, lowering my voice to a sinister half-whisper.

“ _I hate you._ ” I hissed, the microphone picking up my words and transmitting them about the room to the general enjoyment of the gathered assembly.

“You love me.” Deacon said directly into the microphone, grinning as he handed it back towards me. I snatched it out of his hand with all the vehemence of a child wrenching a toy that they wished returned to them from another kid in the sandpit.

“I’ll never have your freaky ass, stupidly named children. I mean, _Persephone?_ Are you fucking bent in the head?” I grumbled, taking a deep sip from my wine and trying to ignore the number of lights that were aimed at me from the base of the stage. Jesus… when did they have all _this_ installed? And just how many generators did it take to keep this stuff running? And they were hot too; I was surprised Deacon hadn’t sweated down to a puddle beneath their intensive glare long ago. The only positive, is that the lights actually dimmed most of the faces in the audience; which made the whole thing seem a little more surreal and less serious. Not to mention that the wine had sanded off the sharp edges of my anxiety, so I was feeling a little more relaxed about this situation than I might otherwise have been. I scratched distractedly beneath my right armpit; which still prickled with the evidence of my lingering trepidation. Well… no point in putting it off any longer. If Travis and Kent could jabber on the radio…

“Right.” I said into the microphone, trotting away from Deacon’s stool and more towards the centre of the stage. “Well, good evening, Goodneighbor. As you might have already guessed… or _known…_ my name is Eve. I’m uh… Hancock’s… lady friend.” I gestured in what I assumed was Hancock’s general direction, receiving some supportive claps and ‘whoops’ in response. “I’ve also been known as the Silver Shroud, Frozen TV dinner and more recently, thanks to Doe here, as Poopy Pants.”

The crowd actually laughed which surprised me; given that my jokes rarely wrought that effect. But then, I hadn’t been making a joke so much as sharing my feelings. It seemed to be going over well, so I tried to continue in this vein; divvying out my actual observations rather than trying too hard to impress people.

“Yep… thanks again for that, Doe. Nothing wins the people over like telling them that the Mayors new girlfriend shit herself out in the Wasteland. If I hadn’t already permanently stained my reputation by dressing up as an old world comic book character, I might be angry about that.” I held my glass of wine out in the vague direction of where I think Magnolia and Kent might have been sitting. “Not that I regretted it for a _minute_ Kent, my love. We kicked some ass. But nonetheless, I don’t suppose anyone can argue that my rep here in Goodneighbor is _solid._ ”

I made a half-hearted pump of the fist as I sipped from my wine again; receiving some claps and wolf whistles in support of my statement. Someone yelled out ‘We love you, Munch!’

“Thanks, Hancock.” I replied, which immediately set the room to laughing again. It had been Meyer who had called out, which of course they all knew but the crowd seemed to be enjoying this self-deprecating little spin I was putting on my person. Namely, that the only person capable of loving me was the guy who had worked for over a year to get into my pants. I took another gulp from my wine, spun on my cork heels and made a show of considering where and what I was doing.

“So… why am I up here again…? Oh, _right._ The _BIG_ Wasteland secret.” I iterated, raising the microphone and glass to each side of my head and lightly waving them about; eyes rolled up in a sort of mock gesture of excitement. “Anyway… where did you leave off again…? Oh, yeah! Well I had just sacrificed Doe and was running away from Hancock-”

“Ya should have run faster.” Pattie called out, rousing the bar to laughter once more and I heard a sharp smacking sound which suggested that Hancock had given him a good clout for his efforts. I turned away so that the microphone wouldn’t catch me snorting and managed finally to repress my own laughter. I sighed before turning back to the audience.

“Right. Well… in any event… I was a’running…”

** Evelyn Hallows **

**_Commonwealth Wasteland: Three months, three weeks ago…_ **

Sacrificing Doe had been instrumental in helping me gain a few extra feet on my pursuer. And it was fair enough, I thought, given that he had intended to leave me in the dust in the first place. For all your talk about loyalty and you were gonna just up and abandon me to Hancock’s devices. Shame on you.

I chanced a throwaway glance over my shoulder, seeing Hancock light up on Doe and slow down only long enough to lay a boot into his stomach and hiss some sort of (no doubt) vague threat. And then, he was off after me again.

“Oh, give me a break!! What the hell?!” I huffed, turning back just in time to quickly evade another copse of trees before they smacked me dead in the face. I leapt over a fallen log, quite a feat, I thought considering I was never any good at hurdles and leaned to the right in order to correct the angle of the path I’d been forced to abandon when the trees had cropped up.

And then, I was shrieking, stumbling, as sharp, blinding pain shot through the heel of my foot. I cast my eyes towards the ground and realized that there was no more grass. I had run myself clear across a stony, gravel strewn plain which terminated into a sheer drop made from rock and the earth. It wore, as its apron, a tiny patch of grass and it was towards this that I hobbled; reasonably certain that my foot was bleeding.

“Oh no… end of the line.” I whimpered, hobbling onto the grass with all the grace of a tired old nag that had thrown its shoe. “Ooch, ouch, ah…” I hissed, peering down over the side of the embankment; to see whether it might have been safe for me to maybe hop over and scoot down. It was far too steep and just high enough to make my head spin with vertigo. I backed off quickly. “Shit… caught like a molerat in a cage.”

Hancock’s footsteps came thundering up from behind me and I turned to see him darting out from around the copse of trees I had only just evaded. He slowly to a languid walk, seeing that I was royally trapped and took his leisurely time approaching. His big, pink lips slipped up into his cheeks; so that his entire face resembled some sort of sinister side-show clown.

Now Hancock and I had had our disagreements in the past and sometimes we had argued or given the silent treatment but we had never come to blows before. Namely because giving a beat down to the woman you fancied is a sure fire way to cool the fires of ardour and also because Hancock is, for all intents and purposes, a gentleman. He could put the hard word to a woman for sure but he would never hit or beat one; if you don’t include the odd psychotic lady Raider but hey, you know. If anyone could be accused of asking for it…

So, I knew that a lot of this was just his having fun. But I also knew that Hancock could be unpredictable at times and I hadn’t really tested the boundaries of his limits. (I’m a bit of an inoffensive derp, in case you couldn’t tell from the… everything about me). As such, I couldn’t be sure that I hadn’t simply pushed him that iota too far. I doubted he was likely to march over and pitch me off the side of the embankment but he had _something_ uncharitable in mind. Nothing surer. That smile did _not_ spell ice-cream social. 

I held my injured foot off of the ground gingerly, blood dripping down my big toe to form a small puddle in the sparse patch of grass on which I sought sanctuary. Both my hands remained occupied in keeping my breasts pressed in tight to my chest and the tail of my shirt tucked securely over my big butt.

“No… no seriously Hancock, I’m hurting my feet now.” I begged, playing the part of the wounded damsel as I gestured to him with my injured hoof. “There’s rocks everywhere… No more chasing, please.”

Hancock continued his approach, apparently unswayed by my dilemma. “Well, I rather think the cliff in front of you decided that, now didn’t it, Ms Hallows?” His smile widened, if such a feat was possible and his teeth now showed from between his pink, glittery lips. Amazing how such brassy makeup could be so disturbing. I guess that explains why a lot of people were afraid of clowns in my time.

“Okay, I’m sorry about the makeup.” I sighed, shuffling back a mere quarter of an inch, to compensate for each step he took in my direction. “We just figured it would be a bit of fun, we didn’t expect you to completely blow a gasket.”

Hancock halted his advance, tilting his head and peering at me from beneath the line of is foundation blotted brow. For a moment, I could see the mischief leach from his expression and his tone when next he spoke, was one of utmost seriousness.

“I ran into someone on my little ‘morning fetch quest’ who owes me a considerable amount of caps.” He stated, bringing both arms up and crossing them over his chest. He shifted his weight over to his left hip, eyes focused intensely on my buckled, pain pierced features. “Little difficult to convince someone you mean business when they’re too preoccupied with laughing in your face. Your unknowingly made up like a New Vegas hooker, _face._ ”

Ah… so that explained why he was so angry. I glanced down at my injured foot; watching as another drop of blood split free from the tip and plopped down to join the ever expanding puddle upon the ground.

“So I’m… uh… guessing you didn’t get the money out of him?”

Hancock’s smile was without humor. “Oh, I’ll get the money out of him; don’t you worry about that. But it sure doesn’t help my reputation much. Your little stunt could have really put a crimp in my business, Munch. Not to mention the number of folks out to poke fun at a Ghoul whenever one crosses their path; let alone one with a face full of fucking makeup. Hope you realize that.”

I freed my hand from the back of my shirt, using it to pull messy, unbrushed bed hair away from my eyes. He’d actually succeeded in making me feel a little bad because I hadn’t even considered the myriad of repercussions for mine and Doe’s prank. Everywhere we went, people shot remarks and put downs at Hancock for his condition and I’d likely just gone and made him a laughing stock in the middle of the settlement we were staying. Hancock was tough, sure but nobody liked to be made a fool of. I sure as shit hadn’t when I’d been in school. Now I felt little better than a common, thoughtless bully.

“I’m sorry.” I said, truly meaning it. Not knowing if it was enough to waylay whatever was coming next, regardless of how genuinely contrite I was. “Listen, how about I show you my undies and we call it even?”

You would think, given that he’s clearly been angling to see them for some time, that this offer might have borne fruit. But no. The straight, serious line of Hancock’s mouth curved up to once more form that ominous looking smile and his arms unhooked themselves from across his chest.

“No dice. I got something better in mind for you. Now.” He said, taking another step closer and instinctually sending me hopping back to keep the distance between us level. “You gonna take your punishment like a grown up?”

I squared my jaw and tilted my chin up; mustering bravado that I really wasn’t feeling at my core. “I’m not taking nothing like a grown up.” I said, crouching unsteadily on my one good leg as Hancock, undeterred, continued slinking closer. “I’m warning you… you come any closer and I’ll… I’ll kick you!”

One of Hancock’s brow ridges quirked uncertainly in response to this.

“You’ll kick me, huh?”

“Right in the love spuds.”

He gestured to my suspended, bleeding foot. “With no shoes on?”

I waggled my leg from side to side, as threateningly as was possible given that I was crippled and off balance. “Hurt you more than me.”

Hancock smirked, recognizing an empty threat when he saw one. “Go on then. Give us a good kick, love.” He egged, inching closer and readying his right hand at his side. Damn. Why had I bothered with teaching him those grabbing defence moves? Should have known he’d end up using them against me at some point.

I thought him very cocky for assuming that I wouldn’t take steps to defend myself. So, I decided to teach the cheeky little slurry a lesson. I darted forward, bringing my injured leg up to cover my centre and raising my right hand and forming it into a duck beak. I thrust my arm forward, jabbing towards Hancock’s eyes. Of course, the move wasn’t intended to actually poke the poor guys eyes out but to make him reflexively flinch backwards. It was a move that had seen great effectiveness in a lot of Wing Chun duels throughout the years and as a result, had been thusly banned in all competitions. Almost all fights could be won by this method alone; you could initiate a takedown in less than a minute after throwing your opponent off like this. I had used it on Cait, when she and I had been thrown together in the cage of the Combat Zone. I had also used it a number of times on various opponents out in the Wasteland. And, stupidly enough, I had demonstrated it to Hancock once before.

So of course, he knew exactly what I was doing and despite naturally flinching at the oncoming duck beak, he responded exactly as I had taught him. By switching from right foot to left and scooting back; keeping his centre facing squarely towards my own. He then turned, bringing himself sideways so that I stumbled into his path and used both hands to block my own; pushing me further forward still. My foot, that had been lashing up to strike him between the legs. hit dead air and I was forced to bounce and swivel on my uninjured leg, to bring him back in front of me again.

He kept a hold of my arm however, using his grip to keep me from bringing our centre’s back into alignment. It wasn’t a bad maneuverer but Hancock wasn’t trained like me and I loosened his grip by bringing myself in closer, forcing his arms to bend at the elbow and sink in towards his abdomen. With his grip affected, I was able to yank my arm free by pulling downwards, against his thumbs and then I bounced back, keeping my hands out in the neutral position; ready to fend him off if he went to grab me again.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t been as careful as I might otherwise have been in assessing the environment and my good foot lit upon another fucking rock. I shrieked, losing my balance and just about topping backwards. It was just the opening Hancock had been waiting for.

“Ah-ha!” He crowed, darting forward and grabbing the ankle of my suspended foot in his left hand. He used the fact that I was off balance to pull me up tight against his body – Yeah, yeah – whoo-hoo – tucking one arm up underneath my rump and grabbing my thigh with his other hand; which he tucked in tight around his waist. I could feel my face going red, because he sure as shit would be feeling a whole lot of me and it wasn’t like I was wearing much but the embarrassment was short lived. I was foisted off of my feet, shrieking and flailing as he pulled me into a fireman’s lift and starting marching away from the embankment.

“Stop it! Put me down, you son of a bitch!!” I yelled, kicking and jabbing my fists into his uncaring, unreceptive back. “Stop showing my underpants off to everything in the Wasteland!”

Hancock, unconcerned with this fact (for reason’s best known to himself) simply chuckled as he continued marching with me, moving towards what looked like a wooded area just off to the left of the embankment. I could see grass appear beneath his feet and then, my view was sent to spinning as he offloaded me inelegantly; like a bag of dirty stinking laundry. He had chosen a good, thick grassy patch on which to dispose of me, which took some of the ‘ouch’ out of it but the force still knocked all the air out of my lungs. My shirt was flung up, nearly over my belly button and I struggled to both bring in air and to cover myself; my face so red by now that I thought I might burst every damn capillary.

“This is undignified, goddammit!” I panted, hardly able to ignore the hunger that had flashed through Hancock’s eyes. It was gone from the forefront just as soon as I had fancied I’d seen it but it lingered in the background; evidenced by the sudden, taut rigidity of his stance. Since I’m mean, I decided to play on this and perhaps embarrass the guy enough into pulling back. “Whaddya gonna do now, huh? Have your wicked way with me?” I said, using my hand to press the front of the shirt down between my legs; not so much veiling the view as drawing attention to it. His eyes flickered from here to my chest, which was rising and falling dramatically with my desperate intakes of breath. The material of the shirt was stretched between each mound of my breasts; a small window of flesh peeking through the buttons. A gash that had opened with the shirt being pulled so tight beneath my body.

I think if I hadn’t made a point of sounding so pissed off, Hancock might very well have made his move. I had my suspicions that he was attracted to me but I’d always figured it was simply because of our sexual organs being in complete diametric opposition to one another’s. I’d had no idea that he was in love with me. Nor that he had made other people plaintively aware of the fact. I’m actually more surprised that Doe managed to keep his big yap buttoned about it. Classy move, I’ll admit.

But Hancock held it in, turning his eyes away long enough to give himself the old mental shake down. When he turned back to me, he looked to have sheathed some of that desire and his expression had once more attained that hint of mischief it had previously possessed.

“My wicked way? Heh, in so few words.” He purred, grinning as he slowly and dramatically reached his fingers into the inside pocket of his jacket and revealed a tube of lipstick. He took the cap off and twisted it, revealing a bright red color that I was never particular wont to wear myself. “Since you were having so much fun painting up other people’s faces, I figured it’s my turn now.”

My eyes widened in shock; to think of what stupid things Hancock was likely to do to my face with that lipstick.

“Hey, whoa!” I yelled, raising my hands and legs; blocking and kicking at Hancock as he moved in on me. “Why me?! Deacon was involved too! I don’t see you painting up his face!!”

“Oh, he’ll get his.” Hancock grunted, struggling to get past my thrashing, flailing appendages. “Probably with Brahmin Dung instead of makeup. Figured you were the mastermind however, knowing the sort of stuff that you and I normally get up to. That’s why you get to be first.” Seeing that he was getting nowhere with only one hand to his name, Hancock sighed and placed the lipstick firmly between his teeth; such as I had seen him do with a knife on many other occasions. He used both hands now to grab my legs, bringing them down sharply so that my knees were pinned in and then he quickly hopped over them, planting his own knees on either side of my waist. Clever. He’d isolated my legs to behind his person, effectively keeping me from kicking him. Not to mention I’m sure he didn’t at all mind getting to sit on me like this.

“Aww come on Munch, you ain’t even trying now!” He cajoled from about the lipstick, our collective arms going for broke as I attempted to smack the tube out from between his teeth. “What if I was a Raider, huh? I’d be halfway done by now.”

“Hey, we’re still buddy’s, so I might be going a little easier. Not that you deserve it! And from the way you’re squirming around on top of me, I would be surprised if you were half done, you creep!” I said, aiming a lazy punch for Hancock’s chin. He easily snared my wrist in his opposing hand, his smile lighting up like a Christmas tree.

“Ha! Gotcha!” He cheered, bringing my arm straight across my body in a move that surprised even me. He used it to pin my other arm to the ground, his fingers quickly scrabbling to encase the wrist of this one as well. He brought them up above my head, pinning them to the grass with first his hands and then, correctly assuming that I would be strong enough to break his grip, dropped his forearm down against them instead. “Right where I want you now, sweet cheeks.” He said, petting me on the cheek with his free hand. Having used his arm to pin my own, resulted in our bodies being virtually pressed together, our faces less than a ruler’s length apart. I was surprised to find that my annoyance with him was further tinged with feelings of latent excitement. It was actually kind of… hot. To imagine him doing this in some other context; pinning me down so that I was subject to all his whims and desires. I imagined him now, dispensing with the pretence and dropping his free hand to the front of my shirt; pinching open button after button. Taking that lipstick and tracing it over my stomach and bare breasts. Making me squirm and-

Oh Jesus, where the _hell_ was I going with this? We were _friends,_ for fucks sake! I pushed hard against his forearm but the angle drove pain through my shoulders and I groaned as I thrashed and bucked; trying to fling him off of me. He just went with the flow of it. Seemed a bit too much of a natural, if you ask me.

“OW!! Hey, for fucks sake!” I yelled, bicycle kicking like crazy with my feet. For all the good this useless expenditure of energy would do. “Is this how you get all the girls to lay still for you?!”

“Only the ones who don’t respond to the chloroform.” He said, taking that typical route of dark humor that was so much a part of his character. Having effectively subdued me, he reached up now and took the lipstick out from between his teeth. He moved the horrible, near entirely intact tube towards my face. “Now hold still… I wanna get this just right.”

“I’m not holding still, _fuck off_!” I growled, twisting my head to the side as far as it would go; just about burying myself in the dirt like a Molerat. We were both giggling now, the seriousness of the situation having expired entirely. “Uh uh… go away with that John! I don’t want it!”

He leaned back and sighed impatiently. “Look, you’re either getting it from the tube or I’ll share some of mine with you.” He said, puckering up his big pink butterfly lips and leaning in close. For a moment I was tempted to let him eliminate the distance; just to see what would happen next. Would he stop if he saw I wasn’t putting up any protests? Or would he go all the way and actually kiss me? And if I let him, would I respond? Would that be what he wanted? And where and what would that lead to? The air around us was cold but I felt heat steal across my skin as an image swam unbidden to the forefront of my mind; of Hancock and I, arms wrapped around one another, making love on this indiscriminate patch of grass in the middle of nowhere. Hancock’s lipstick marks pressed to any number of places on my body…

Oh God, seriously. No. What was I thinking? Nate hadn’t been dead a year yet and here I was entertaining thoughts of fucking someone else. In the great outdoors, nonetheless! Where any number of prickly, slimy, hairy creepy crawlers could sneak inside of any crack and crevice and lay their eggs. I turned my head quickly, pulling my lips in tight to protect them against whatever Hancock might have been intending. Was it just my imagination, or did he actually look disappointed? Now I just felt bad. But it was better than the awkward alternative. Good relationships have been ruined by a passionate, spur of the moment decision. I thought of Xavier and his pining away for me, all those months back in the old world.

“Oh Jesus, where the fuck is a rape whistle when you need one?” I said, unzipping my lips just long enough to relay my piece. “All right, all right – I’ll behave! Just don’t draw a cock and balls or something stupid on my forehead, please. That’s all I ask!”

“Thankyou.” Hancock said curtly, grinning as he positioned the lipstick and leaned forward, pressing the soft point gently to the skin above my upper lip. He made a curling motion out to the left and then a matching one to the right. Of course. A moustache. How inspired. “Ah, zutelo. It is beautiful. But not complete without the crowning touches.”

He proceeded then to further embellish my face with the addition of some mutton chops, a goatee, a monobrow, some big rosy cheeks, a scattering of love hearts around my temples and, in spite of my previous implicitly stated terms of surrender, a cock and balls on my forehead.

“There.” He chuckled, plainly satisfied with his work. He went to work signing his extravagant looping signature beneath the penis before adding some droplets flying from the tip of it. Real freakin’ mature, Hancock. “Now you look almost as pretty as me.”

“I told you not to draw a fucking dick on my face, you asshole.” I grumbled, tilting my head compliantly to the side as he added a few more love hearts and, from what I could tell, a shooting star. I was getting a real tapestry of work. “Still, guess it could have been a lot worse. You looked pretty pissed off.”

Hancock smirked as he held the lipstick suspended by the corner of my mouth. “Ah. Then my plan worked. You didn’t honestly think I’d go mental over something like that, would ya? Give me credit for having _something_ of a sense of humor. Make your lips soft, Munch.”

Thank goodness for the red baubles he’d drawn on my cheeks, for they must have done a good job in concealing the blush that I knew was currently laying siege to them. I parted my lips slightly, relaxing them as much as possible and pushing them out slightly so that he was able to paint them properly.

“Um well, you can be a bit of a loose cannon at times.” I said, slightly muffled and more than a little distracted by what he was doing. He was concentrating good and hard on his task, eyes focused intensely on my bottom lip as he carefully trailed the red tube across it. “Ya had the same look on your face that ya did when you offed Finn.”

“Nah, just wanted to give you a scare.” He chuckled, raising the lipstick and carefully working on my cupids bow. “So worth it just to see you and Dipstick go pelting off across the Wasteland like a couple of scared squirrels. You sure gave the Scavvers one hell of a show.” 

“Yeah, trying to keep my ass under my shirt and my boobs outta my face.” I frowned up at him as he pinched his eyes shut, rocking a little with laughter. “Glad you find it so amusing!” I snapped, leaning up as much as I could. “You scared the ever loving fuck out of me, ya know? I thought you were gonna kick our butts from one side of the Commonwealth to the other!”

“You honestly think I could ever lay a hand on you?” Hancock said, his voice rhetoric as he lifted the lipstick and drew a big, red dot right on the end of my nose. “I could no sooner hurt you, than I could point my shotgun at my own dick and pull the trigger.”

I chuckled, for the statement had been charming so much as it had been amusing. “Holy crap, you _must_ like me.”

His gaze was thoughtful as he filled in the centre of the dot on my nose, no doubt so that I now resembled some sort of weird clown. “Ya got no idea, Munch.”

We were quiet for a moment, just kind of looking at one another, both of us seemingly trying to gauge the others intentions. Now that we were no longer talking, I was reminded once more of the fact that he was all but laying on top of me; his face so close to my own that I could see the pores of his skin through the thick, blotted makeup on his face. He stared back at me, twisting the tube of the lipstick to pull it back inside and then tucked it into his pocket. His eyes were on my lips and he used his now free hand to cup my chin. His thumb came up, gently brushing the lined edges of the lipstick he had adorned me with. He was very close. I could see his breath fogging the air between us. When I breathed in, that mist slipped down between my painted lips. When I breathed out, he took it back inside of himself. I waited, all those worries and trepidations pushed to the nadir of my mind. I felt the expansive push of his stomach against my own; his breaths thickening.

A rustling from the nearby copse of trees neatly shattered the calm of the moment and Hancock was on his feet in a thrice, crouching down and wriggling to be free of his jacket.

“You okay?” He asked, as I pulled myself first into a sitting position and then a crouch as well. I placed the fingertips of one hand against the ground to steady myself, whilst using the other to keep a firm hold of my uncontained breasts. My heart was pounding a little, though not from the disturbance in the bushes.

“Yeah. All good.” I replied, wondering why we were even bothering to whisper in the first place. It’s not as though whoever or _whatever_ was in the bushes, hadn’t already heard us by now.

Hancock finally succeeded in extricating himself from his jacket and held it out towards me. “Here.” He whispered and I took it, because I knew he would only make more of a fuss in forcing it on me if I refused. I wrapped it quickly about myself, rolling the sleeves up past the elbows in order to keep my hands free. Whilst I was doing this, Hancock slipped one foot back and carefully slid his boot off, doing the same with the other whilst keeping his eyes trained on the bushes the entire time. He passed the boots over to me, gesturing urgently with them when I stared back in confusion.

“Go one.”

“No, no it’s fine.” I whispered, trying to push the boots away. For all the good this would do with someone as stubborn and pig headed as John Hancock. “My foot’s been bleeding, I’ll just get them dirty. Besides, you’ll just end up with rocks in your feet as well.”

Having been reminded of the cut to my foot, Hancock paused, cursed quietly to himself and then gave a quiet snap of his fingers in my direction.

“Inside pocket. Handkerchief.”

I reached inside of the jacket, pushing past the tube of lipstick and lighting upon the square of Hancock’s always ready and available handkerchief. I handed it to him.

“Sit down.” He murmured, gesturing for me to do so before taking up my cut foot and laying it across his lap. He examined the cut, unfolding the handkerchief (which was obviously clean for that very reason) and dabbing gently at it to remove the blood. I winced a little, because it stung but I kept quiet, aware that we didn’t want to attract further attention to ourselves.

Having cleaned up the wound as much as possible, Hancock shook the handkerchief out and then carefully tied it about my foot; pinning to knot off to the side. He then, in spite of my physical protests, slid his boots on over my feet.

“I’ve still got my socks on, it’s fine.” He insisted, holding out his feet and indicating to the bright blue socks that were tugged over top of them. He always insisted on wearing such random socks; just one of those little, unexplained quirks of the infamously eccentric Mayor. “I promise I didn’t leave any toes in them, this time.”

I chuckled as I moved myself back into a crouch, my feet sliding about inside of the boots. Hancock’s feet were much bigger and longer than mine, so I was all but swimming in them. But I was grateful for his thoughtfulness in any event.

“What a gentleman you are. Cheers.”

Hancock nodded and then indicated towards the trees. Remaining in our crouched positions, we slowly and carefully duck walked our way in; peeking through the bedraggled bushes to see what could have made the noise. A familiar throaty snort gave it away before I’d had a chance to lock eyes on the beastie.

“Radstag.” Hancock confirmed, leaning up just enough to glance through a gap in the bushes. He urged me forward and I took a peek as well.

The Radstag stood about twenty or so feet away; deeply entrenched in some of the sturdier and thicker bushes that had clung to life in the copse. It was a doe; possessing no antlers and its wide ‘whale-eyes’ suggested that it was simply frightened, rather than hostile. I let out a sigh of relief and sank down; feeling a strain seep into my back from where I had been tilting at an unnatural angle.

“Better than a Radscorpion, I guess. Or a Doe. (John Doe, that is). He’d make up all sorts of shit about… what we were…” I wasn’t certain how best to finish the sentence without making it obvious that I was aware of the attraction that existed between us but I needn’t have worried. Hancock wasn’t listening to me anyway. He was too absorbed with staring at the Radstag; his body rigid like a dog who was considering chasing after something, his eye contact unwavering and piercing. “… doing- Oh my God, you’re drooling! What the hell?” I hissed, catching sight of the line of dribble that had started forming from the corner of Hancock’s mouth. I gave his arm the sharpest smack I was capable of whilst retaining some semblance of silence. He turned, flapping his hand at me dismissively.

“Are you kidding? We haven’t had fresh meat in weeks and now a whole fucking smorgasbord of it has just wandered up on us!” He wiped at his mouth before reaching about to the small of his back. I thought he was going for his knife but when his hand came back into view, he held a small 10mm pistol. Ah, of course. _That’s_ why he took that bit of extra time coming after Doe and myself. I thought it had been to grab the lipstick but Hancock wasn’t the sort to come charging out into the Wasteland without some form of protection. And any other gun would have slowed him down too much.

He slowly and carefully snicked back the safety of the pistol, checking it over quickly to make sure everything was in order. I felt my heart sink in my chest. A by-product of having been born and raised in the age of supermarkets.

“Oh no, seriously? You’re going to kill a little female deer that’s just minding her own business?” I murmured, sadness swelling through the core of my being. It’s not as though I hadn’t done the same thing myself; many times in fact, even before the bombs had dropped. My father was big on self-sufficiency and as a child I can honestly say that we rarely, if ever, needed to purchase meat from the supermarket. Hunting had always been a big part of my life. Didn’t mean I liked doing it. Especially not if the mark was female. Call me sexist but it was easier to bring down a big, strong male creature, than cap a prospectively pregnant female. That sort of shit induced a lot of nightmares when I was a child.

Hancock sighed, eyes pitched to the Heaven’s such as they usually did when he was trying to contain his frustration with me.

“Listen here, _Ma Nature_ ,” He whispered harshly and I was a little cut by the curtness of his tone. Never get between a hungry man and his supper, as they say. “I don’t know how you did things back in 2077 but here, in _this_ world, meat doesn’t just magically land on the table all primed to go. Strangely enough, you have to kill the beastie first before you start taking chunks out of it.”

I narrowed my eyes, refusing to tolerate being addressed like I was some ignorant child. “Don’t you lecture me about being some raging hippy, my Pop’s side of the family were _Yanktonai_ , remember? I used to hunt with them all the time. I’ve been dressing down little woodland creatures since I was about five years old, I know how it all gets done.”

“Then why the big flash flood _Yankie Doodle?_ ” Hancock grumbled impatiently, keeping his eyes firmly trained on the Radstag, just in case it spooked. “What, would it make you feel better if I did a little war dance first and then hurl a spear at it?”

I gave him a humourless, withering look. “…That’s very offensive.”

He smirked, as pleased with himself as he always was whenever he got a little jab in about my heritage and brought one knee up to steady his aim. “Oh boo hoo, go cry to Earth Mother about it.”

I cracked against my better nature, holding a hand over my mouth to contain the snorts that were threatening to erupt. I forced myself to marshal some self-control and pursed my lips together so as to look unaffected by his statement.

“You fucking racist asshole.” I hissed, jabbing my finger hard into the soft line of skin just below the lowest rung of his ribcage. He bent a little, pinching his own lips together to prevent a pained exclamation from erupting. “You better be glad this ain’t 2077 anymore, or I’d have your raisony old butt up in court. And own most of your belongings and property.”

“Great.” He remarked, entirely unconcerned with anything but adjusting the aim of his pistol. “Enjoy my hat and Whitechapel Chuck but in the meantime, I’m going to fetch us some Radstag steak for dinner.”

I pulled a face, appalled with the lack of thought that came with this statement. “Oh God, please don’t refer to it as steak before it’s even been killed.” I gestured lightly in the direction of the doe; trying to get Hancock to understand where I was coming from. “I just… question the need to take the life of an innocent animal when it’s not entirely necessary. I mean, we have food.”

He was truly impatient with me now and perhaps more than a little concerned that all our boondoggling would result in the doe catching wind of our position and scaring it away before he could get a shot off. He sighed, sinking back so that his butt rested on the crook of his rear foot; narrowing his eyes irritably in my direction.

“It ain’t much, Eve. Regardless of how much charm Nicky boy can throw a person’s way, the Settlement doesn’t have much ta go around. Now if you wanna risk marching across the Wasteland like a half starved waif be my guest but as for the rest of us, we all need our strength, we need some good nutrients from some fresh meat. And we need to recover from being ill.”

I lifted a brow brusquely; thinking he had a very short memory when it suited him. “Three of us just took a high spirited sprint across half of the Commonwealth, I think our health is just _fine_.”

His eyes bore into me and from his next words, I could tell that he too thought my retention of the facts was rather limited at best. “The reporter ain’t looking too good. Neither’s your little poochie.” Facts that resonated with me more deeply than anything else. Piper and Dogmeat both had been fighting like hell to recover; having copped the worst of the fallout from that putrid, diseased meat. What position was I in; to make this decision for them? “Do you want us all hungry, dehydrated and incontinent? Do you want us all hospitalized when we return to civilization because we’ve vomited and shit ourselves to near death? All for some… idealistic notion?”

I sighed, feeling consummately defeated and raked my hair back from my face.

“No… of course not.” I whispered, glancing back towards the dear; my heart thudding with empathy. Poor, innocent, unknowing creature. “Can you take it down in one shot with that pistol?”

Hancock brought himself back up off of his leg, squaring the pistol and carefully studying the angle he had. He was an excellent shot; perhaps second only to MacCready but Hancock was close quarters, rather than long-distance; which made up for the statistics he most often enjoyed. Not to mention that a handgun was hardly likely to bring an animal as big and as sturdy as a Radstag down in one shot. I knew this for a fact. A rifle was preferable; the rounds being capable of penetrating deep enough to pierce the heart. My father would have suggested aiming right for the animal’s eye, so as not to spoil the meat of the torso but it was a little difficult when your quarry was two-headed. I’d seen a Radstag cop a bullet to one of its heads and its Siamese twin kept up the fight; kicking and flailing about, even as half of the body stopped responding entirely, causing it to collapse in squealing, frothing terror and agony. I _never_ wanted to see shit like that again. It was cruel.

After no doubt mulling over such things in his own mind, Hancock sighed, his eyes flicking over towards me briefly.

“I can promise to do my very best, Munch.” He said, which confirmed for me that he knew this wasn’t going to be a successful one shot-kill. Goddammit. “If I aim for the heart, it should do the trick. If not, I’ll get in there and finish it off quick.”

He was trying to play off of some ignorance he must have known I didn’t actually possess. Or perhaps, he knew me well enough to understand that sometimes I was content to be fooled with a half-truth, rather than acknowledge the inevitable. I nodded, reaching over and giving his shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

“Okay… I’ll help dress it down. …Take your time. Doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere.”

Hancock nodded briefly and checked his position once more. He moved slightly to the left, clearing his sight a little better and used the crook of a branch to steady his arms and the barrel of the gun. The change of angle forced his head down lower, so that his hat slightly obscured his vision. He took it off, swivelling it about and gently placing it down over top of my mussed up bed head.

“Hold onto this for me, would ya?”

I straightened the hat a little and crouched down further, putting myself as far into the vegetation as possible so as to avoid the red of his coat from being seen. I wasn’t certain whether a Radstag could see in color but it wasn’t worth the risk of simply assuming it could not. We appeared to be downwind of it anyway; based on the finger lick test I quickly conducted. Explains why the Radstag appeared to have calmed; even after hearing the two of us making so much noise earlier.

She seemed distracted; fussing with something on her left leg, which was obscured by the thick, low lying branches of the bush she was enveloped by. Beside me, I could hear Hancock stagger his breathing; taking deeper, slower breaths so as to keep his body rigid. One eye squinted shut and I held my own breath, fighting back those residual waves of sadness as his finger curled firm about the trigger. Just before he squeezed back on it however, the Radstag raised her left-side head towards the bushes opposite her and made a soft lilting undulation. A yearling with an amber spotted coat appeared, mewing temperately as it curled up against its mother’s side; pushing at her ribcage with one of its tiny, adorable looking little heads. The mother responded with a soft coo and I immediately went to water; my eyes creasing and flooding with tears.

“Oh… oh she has a _baby_.”

“Don’t look at it.” Hancock whispered back, the line of the pistol having not altered a jot at the yearlings’ appearance. I grabbed at his shoulder, giving it a shake to force his attentions away from his dinner plate for two damn seconds.

“You can’t shoot a mother with a baby, the baby will die without its Mom to take care of it!”

He rolled his arm back, throwing my hand free with obvious irritation.

“Or alternatively, its hardships will make it all the stronger and it will achieve greater unimagined heights of success in life that it might otherwise have never obtained without this experience to shape and mould it.”

I glared at him, not at all appreciating the flippant, uncaring attitude he was adopting. “This isn’t a cartoon, this is real life! There aren’t any little cartoon rabbits or cartoon skunks that are going to pitch in and help raise the little baby Ragstag; just a bunch of hungry Yao Guai and PMS-y Death Claws and –” And here I gave him a good firm smack to the arm. “– ghouls without a conscience that are just waiting around every corner to eat him!”

Ahead of us, the bushes parted for a second time; like the red sea disinterring the trailing remnants of the Israelites from Egypt and another yearling poked its head out before trotting over to join its mother and sibling. Oh God. This shit just kept getting better and better.

“Oh my God, there’s _two_ of them!”

“Good,” Hancock remarked, twisting to the side and realigning the aim of his pistol. “She shouldn’t miss one of them then.”

I was so appalled at the prospect of shooting a baby animal that I forget for a second who it was that I was in the bushes with. I knew that Hancock could be hard but there were times when he was even more sentimental than me. I was the one that tended to be more practical; who made the tough choices or dealt the cold hand because it all contributed to my primary cause; infiltrating the Institute and saving my son. It seemed… easier with people, however. Strange as I’m sure some of you find such a perspective. Animals, in my mind, were innocent, unaware and undeserving. They had little choice or capacity to take any such action in their own interest; outside of the instinctual reflexes attributed to survival. And a _baby_ animal at that! No. I couldn’t abide such a thing. And I made it very clear to Hancock, by reaching over and placing my hand over the end of the gun.

“Don’t be such a bloodthirsty bastard.” I hissed, unsurprised to see him immediately yank the pistol away from my hand. He wasn’t about to risk blowing a hole through my palm; which is exactly what I had been banking on. “How could you think of shooting one of those little babies?”

“Easy, I’ve been trampled over by one of the things that they grow into!” Hancock growled, cursing under his breath before working once more to reposition his aim. “Try taking about five prongs into your lower spine and see how sympathetic you start feeling towards one of the ‘precious little bebbies’ then.”

I tried a different approach, staring out over the yearlings as one of them yawned and snuggled up next to its mother. The other one was working at one of her teats; though, for all the good it did, I think she might have been a little dry.

“But… they’re so cute John; just _look_ at them!”

“I don’t want to look at how cute they are!” He snapped, just about as loudly as I’m certain he was willing to risk. “I just wanna shoot them, skin them and put them on my plate!!”

I grabbed the front of his shirt, pinching it hard in my fist and tugging so that he was forced down out of his crouch. I pushed my face in close; using a tone of voice I had long since perfected when I had worked security at a titty bar back in North Dakota. A necessity when dealing with drunk, self-entitled soldiers rolling in from the Canadian front.

“If you shoot one of the babies, I wouldn’t eat it! I’d just sit there, hating you and hoping that you choked with every bite you took.”

“You’re breaking my heart here, toots.” Hancock stated, making it plaintively clear, as usual, that he wasn’t one to be intimidated by anyone or anything. Making your way up the ladder to the Mayors’ office in a town such as Goodneighbor took serious stones, it’s true. Throwing my considerable weight about wasn’t likely to make much of an impact on a nerve as impenetrable as Hancock’s. Time for another approach. Guilt trip.

“I’m serious Hancock, if you shoot one of them, I will _never_ forgive you.” I said, feeling like an altogether manipulative and fake floozy as I fluttered my eyelashes at him; lower lip pushed out to form what I hoped was the saddest looking pout he had ever seen. All I could say for certain was that this was a face that had once worked wonders with Nate. “I’ll never talk to you again. Killing an innocent little creature is not the kind of thing I thought you could ever do. Just the fact that you’re thinking about it-”

His hand jerked up; cutting me off with a firmness of reproach that actually made me feel a little embarrassed for my obvious attempts at influencing him. “Eve… I know that where you come from, you had the luxury of making a lot of these choices but in this time, it’s not always quite that black and white.” He tilted his head, staring down along the line of his cheek. That ‘no nonsense now’ expression I so very rarely saw him trot out; especially with me. “Now, we all need fresh meat, I can get us some fresh meat and we’ll all be able to make the next leg of journey in a much better state of health than we currently are in. Now, if you could stop being a frickin’ bleeding heart for a couple of seconds, let me do what needs to be done and then you can hate me or whatever it is you feel you need to do. You can fucking well do it on a full belly though.”

I wanted to say more but it was plain as day that nothing I said would make much difference to Hancock. He was firm in his convictions and I was simply waylaying the inevitable. Perhaps even driving a wedge between us that would cause permanent, irrevocable damage to our relationship.

So I just… buttoned my yap, cupped my hand under my nose and turned away; shutting my eyes so as to block out what was about to occur. I guess if he _did_ go for one of the yearlings, there was a better chance of the bullet being able to penetrate the chest cavity and killing it instantly. The mother and the sibling would likely freak the fuck out and the mother might even turn hostile; which seemed a fair reaction, given how I myself had reacted to my own child being stolen away.

I waited. Counting off the seconds in my mind as, beside me, Hancock shifted this way and that; sighing, muttering to himself, slowing his breathing down only to allow it to return to normal five seconds later. Finally, he sank back against his heel with a pissed off groan and I turned back to see both his face and the barrel of the pistol aimed skyward. He hadn’t taken the shot. And it looked as though, he wasn’t going to.

“Okay…” He drawled, turning and staring over at me; looking exhausted and done with it all. “In exchange for not shooting them and for not telling the others that they could have had steak for every meal for the foreseeable future; every night until we get fresh meat again, you’re doing that thing you did last night with my hands, you got it?”

I smiled, reaching across to give him an affectionate punch to the shoulder. “Got it.”

He pointed at me; making good and clear that I understood well and good the unconditional terms of our agreement. “Half an hour for each hand. With commitment.”

“No problems.” I said, shuffling over so that I sat behind him. I reached over the top of his shoulders, wrapping my arms about his upper chest and giving him a firm, appreciative squeeze. “You’re a good man.”

He sighed, reaching up to clasp my wrist in his palm. “I’m a _stupid_ man. And a much hungrier one, knowing there’s nothing good waiting for us back at the encampment.”

“What made you change your mind?” I asked, genuinely intrigued by his sudden turnabout. He had seemed well and truly set in his convictions no less than a half minute earlier.

“Oh, all that stupid shit you were going on with.” He grumbled, his thumb trailing across the peaked bone of my wrist. His eyes staring at the ground; not truly taking it or anything else in. “Plus, they’ve got those big horrible wet looking eyes like you’ve got. God designed ‘em to make guys like me feel guilty about every little thing we do.”

I patted the palm of my hand against the firm wall of his chest. “Listen, you’ve done a lovely thing and you’ll get some good karma from this, trust me.”

He turned and stared up towards the side of my face; smiling for the first time in past five minutes. “Well, unless karma comes in the form of my own penthouse suite complete with a hot tub and busty twins with loose morals and even looser clothing, than I can’t see how it’s likely to measure up but hey – least you’ll keep talking to me.”

“Absolutely.” I said, grinning as I clapped my hands against his body. “Now come on, let’s leave them to it and get back to the others.”

Hancock nodded, albeit grudgingly and I released his shoulders so that the both of us could crawl away without further disturbing the Radstag and her babies. It was at this precise moment that the doe herself seemed to get it in her mind to move on to greener pastures but she stumbled on her left leg, bellowing and flailing a bit before calming some. The yearlings squealed and darted back in panic before then edging closer, pressing their wet little noses against both of their mothers; tiny bunny like tails flapping about on their backsides frantically. The doe remained in place, heads down, tongues lolling and panting. Something was terribly wrong and I panned the scene with my near useless eyes, looking for anything that might have been inhibiting her from being able to move about freely.

“Wait, wait look –” I said, pointing to the does now visible left leg. It had barbed wire wrapped about the lower portion; from the knee down, like some awful, sadomasochist’s idea of pull up socks. My eyes, only just recovered from undue sentiment earlier, welled again at the sight. “Oh my God, look Hancock. She’s gotten wire wrapped around her leg.”

Hancock sat up a little, peering through the gap in the bushes and sighed; looking genuinely sorry for the poor beasties situation. “Probably got tangled up in some old fencing or something.” He murmured, leaning off to the side and examining something that I, with my blurry and morning affected vision couldn’t quite make out. “Yeah, I can see it extending from those bushes over there. She must have been trying to get loose for a while.” He spent a moment longer, taking in the situation as best he could. Despite having wanted to eat one of the poor little chaps earlier, Hancock wasn’t a cruel person and he had no interest in seeing human or animal alike suffering. He sat back at long last and groaned; resigned. “Looks like it’s pretty tightly wound around, kiddo. Not sure how long she’ll last with that.”

I turned to him; surprised that I even needed to make the following suggestion in the first instance. “We need to get it off of her then, huh?”

Hancock gave me a long, sardonic look. “Oh yes. And just how are we supposed to do that?” He clasped his hands together to make a sort of funnel and held them just out in front of his lips. “You going to give it one of your little Indian calls and lull it into a trance while I sneak up behind and unwind the wire, all at the risk of getting kicked in the head?”

He got a slap to the thigh for this one. “I was thinking, smartass, we get close enough I can give her a little dose of Med-X for the pain maybe? Might calm her down enough for us to maybe unwind the wire without risk of further injuring her.”

“I didn’t grab any of my chems before I chased the two of you out here, Munch.” Hancock whispered, carefully pushing down an intrusive bushel so as to get a better view of the situation. The radstag doe looked more the pitiable by the second. Any wonder the yearling wasn’t able to suckle; mama was probably dehydrated as fuck. “And I doubt you were carrying any in the two pieces of clothing you’re wearing. Unless of course you’re getting to be very sneaky these days.”

“’Fraid not.” I hissed back, with the passing thought that he might very well have enjoyed the idea of me being able to smuggle copious amounts of anything in my panties. I turned my eyes back to the radstag; at her sloughing, dull pink tongues. She needed water; desperately. “She looks pretty worn out anyway… maybe she’ll let me get close if she knows that I’m going to help her?”

Of course Hancock couldn’t help but roll his eyes at this. “Yeah, cause Radstag’s are known for their logic and cool attitudes. Besides, all our makeup will probably scare the ever loving shit out of it.”

It was me now that was starting to grow more the impatient with him. Every second we spent debating the finer points of the matter, were moments that poor animal was in pain. And this, I would not stand for. “For fucks sake, I’ve got to give something a try. If I don’t, she’ll just die here and then the babies will die and I’m sure everyone will have a great big feast afterwards but if I can do something to help I’m damn well going to do it.”

“Jesus, you’re fucking stubborn.” Hancock grumbled and then, after whisking his hat from my head and back atop his own, relented with a sigh. “Fine, let me know what I can do to help save the precious little darlings. However, if one of them happens to die of shock I am fucking bringing it back with me to the table.”

This, I could allow, given that there was nothing to be gained from leaving a dead animal out to rot in the wilderness. Though I’m sure Hancock would have thought me the type to have made a funeral pyre for it; cover the body in flowers and then set fire to it, so that the spirit could soar free with the falcon, or some shit. “Fine. If one of them has a cardiac arrest, they’ve only got themselves to blame.”

He shook a finger in my face. “And I don’t want you carrying on and squealing if one of them kicks me and I punch it in the face. That shit is not cool.”

I looked at him in genuine shock. “You would actually punch a Radstag in the _face_? Do you realize what kind of monster that makes you sound like?”

“Like I said, try getting trampled by one and then you’ll be wanting to punch the ever loving shit out of them too.” He said, shifting about from one bent leg to the other, clearly uncomfortable with having to remain in this crouched position for so long. Old men and their old bones, know what I’m saying? “Now, what in the blue hell is my part in this insane plan?”

I used my finger to make a swooping motion; like a football coach explaining some complicated manoeuvre to secure the game for the team. “Go around the far side and keep the babies from taking off into the Wasteland, otherwise Mom’ll freak and try to get after them and injure herself more.” I made a little walking man with my hands and emulating moving forward out of the bushes and into the clearing beyond. “I’m going to approach Mum from the front, very slowly and see if she’ll let me get close without panicking. If everything goes well, I’ll work on the wire from the side there. Just need to untwist it… three times I think, and then she’ll be free.”

“Great.” Hancock stated bluntly, in a tone that suggested he thought the proposed strategy as far from ‘great’ as possible. “This whole plan is hinged on your suddenly discovering that you’re the ‘Radstag Whisperer’. Sounds good. No observable loopholes so far as I can tell. Completely fool proof. Should go off like a charm.”

“~You’re being sarcastic~.” I ululated in a sing song tone of voice.

“~You’re being a tooooolll~.” He echoed back, though from the slump of his shoulders I could tell that he had accepted the inevitable. He tried to be hard when it came to certain things but I know that just below the surface, he was just as concerned for the animals welfare as I myself was. Perhaps even more so. He couldn’t abide suffering, not of anything. Especially the innocent. “Okay, I’ll just head over here to shepherd the little baby Radstag’s. You just… do whatever you think you can. But be careful. If she starts flipping out-”

“- I’ll back off right away.” I finished, stretching out each leg one at a time so as to work out the pins and needles that were attempting to lay siege to them. “And we can head back to the encampment and maybe grab some supplies.”

“Like a knife and fork?”

I smacked him again and he chuckled a little, seeing that I myself hadn’t been able to keep the smile from my own mug at his cheek.

“Oh come on. I’ve got to make fun or I’ll hate myself for going along with this.”

I waved my hand to send him on his way and he shuffled along to the right, moving to the far side of the clearing with a great deal more finesse than I actually expected of the man. Hancock’s the type to go into any situation all guns blazing, as opposed to someone like Doe who can sneak in and out from behind enemy lines before the baddies have even realized that he had been there. To see Hancock stealing about the same way impressed the hell out of me. But then… you don’t just keep a coup secret for so many months by being reckless about it. Guess he was channelling that spirt from way back when.

Hancock positioned himself between the yearlings and the most easily accessible space leading into the Wasteland. I saw his hand rise above the bushes in that direction and flash his thumb, to indicate that he was in position. I made my move, crawling, crunching and generally making way too much noise as I maneuvered over to where the fence post was protruding from the copse. Jesus. I could see my ancestors looking down on me now; shaking their heads and bemoaning the day they ever let those clumsy Caucasians get amongst their gene pool.

I edged out from the bushes very slowly, bringing myself gradually into the Radstag’s line of sight. Well… in sight of _one_ of its heads, at least. But this was enough. It flinched back instantly, alerting the other head to my presence and both of them stared wide eyed and alarmed and I immediately sat myself down on the ground; on my ass with my legs out in front of myself. Showing that I wasn’t about to move any closer and that my pose wasn’t threatening in the slightest.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” I cooed, using my best high lilting ‘talking to animal’s’ voice. Used to work a treat on the horses back on the preservation. “You’ve gone and got yourself in a bit of trouble there, haven’t you?”

The Radstag balked and attempted once more to pull her leg free, bellowing in pain as the wire held tight; the barbs digging in further and spilling fresh blood down the damaged limb. I held out my palm, for what good the dramatic, useless gesture could do, uttering ‘ _Shh-shh-sshh’_ as I did.

“Oh no… please don’t. Don’t darling, you’re going to hurt yourself.” I shuffled back a little, relaxing every muscle in my body. Animals had a great sense for posture and could perceive a threat through the way they were approached. I wanted to make good and certain that I didn’t look the least intimidating by keeping my form loose and lax and immobile. “Look, I’m not coming any closer, see? I’m just going to sit right here until you get used to me, okay?”

The two little yearlings had backed right away behind their mother; bleating softly, like a couple of baby _churro’s._ They hadn’t taken off though, so Hancock had no cause to move as of yet. He remained crouched behind that bush however, just in case they had a mind to make a break for it. I felt a bit sorry for the poor guy, because this was going to take a while and I reckoned his legs and knees would be feeling it by the time I was done.

Over the following… ten or so minutes, I guess, I just sat in that self-same spot; speaking softly to the Radstag. Every once in a while, I’d climb slowly into a crouch and remain there; allowing her to become accustomed to the pose and recognize that there was nothing threatening to be perceived from it. It took some time but eventually, the doe ceased reacting negatively and I was finally able to edge forwards; shuffle by gradual shuffle. The radstag watched me carefully but didn’t attempt to run this time. Hancock sighed, a little too loudly and obviously from behind the bush; no doubt bemoaning the stupid shit that women made you do just for the prospect of a little hotty-totty. I projected mentally out to him, begging that he shut the fuck up or risk having his ass trampled over.

Fifteen minutes in and I had finally gotten close enough so that I was sitting about a foot or so from the Radstag’s snout. I waited there, scared to move so much as a hair on my forearm as the Radstag stared back at me uncertainly. Suddenly, with a puff of air from the right heads nostrils, she took a step closer to me and lowered both faces. I waited a moment longer, not breaking eye contact until the deer did and then ever so slowly and carefully raised my hand and inch by gradual inch brought it to rest against the Radstag’s face. I slowly caressed her muzzle, giving her some comfort and feeling my eyes tear up all over again. It’s always such a privilege when a wild animal offers you their trust; especially when, as nasty old human beings, we hadn’t done much to deserve it.

“Hey, sweet girl.” I said softly, wondering even as I said it whether it was in fact two or one girls. Did each head have a different consciousness or what? A mystery that no one has yet been able to satisfactorily explain to me. “You want me to help you with that thing on your leg?”

Later on, Hancock had told me that he’d been sitting there watching the entire thing unfold and calling pooh-pooh on it. Such an ephemeral moment between woman and beast and all he could do was rain down criticism. Call it sour grapes from never having much sway with the woodland creatures that had monstrously mowed him down in his youth but anyway.

I slowly lowered my hands to the wire and after very deliberate observation, managed to identify where the end of it was. I carefully tugged this free from where it had gotten snagged between an overlapping segment and starting to gradually peel the barbs from the fresh. The Radstag stayed very still; I think she must have been caught there for a long time because there is no way a wild animal would normally tolerate this sort of contact from a human. Especially one as timid and skittish as a deer.

“Oh… that looks so sore. Oh, you poor baby.” I murmured, pausing just long enough to wipe my eyes and clear my vision. Now was not the time to be getting emotional. “I don’t have much… I don’t know if I can treat it but…” I tallied over in my mind just what I had in my possession and though it wasn’t ideal, I figured it would be better than nothing. I started shrugging off Hancock’s jacket. “Maybe… maybe this will work.”

I heard a muffled coughing sound from the bush, which was no doubt Hancock’s ham-fisted way of conveying to me that I wasn’t to do anything with his trademark, one of a kind coat. Well, this was of course what I hadn’t been intending. Instead, I placed the coat off to the side, grabbed the base of my sleeping shirt and ripped it sideways with a sharp yank. I tore away the entire middle section, bringing it about behind myself and then giving it another hard tug to the right to return the tear to the front; culminating in its termination where the buttons had previously joined it together. It resulted in the exposure of the lower half of my body; thighs, panties and dimply tummy alike. Practicality wins out, however and I shelved whatever embarrassment I might have been feeling; tearing the material into smaller strips that I could use to bind the animals wounds. Hancock was strangely silent throughout this procedure, not voicing so much as another squeak of protest. Perhaps he was seeing the benefits of this hippyish animal rescue shit after all?

The doe remained calm and compliant as I tended to her leg; winding the strips of white material about her wounds and securing them as firmly as I dared; hopefully not so much as to cut off the circulation. I checked the tightness by placing my finger between the fabric and the animals leg and there was room enough for it to be snug but not constrictive.

“There ya go. It shouldn’t be too tight… hopefully you can work it off when you need to.” I said, sitting back on my haunches and looking my work over. I was pleased with my efforts and I’m sure, somewhere up there in the great blue beyond, my father was casting a critical eye and nodding his approval too. “Heh… too bad I can’t put one of those big collars around your neck to stop you nibbling at it.”

I chuckled as I reached up slowly to give the Radstag one last pet to the face but she pulled away from me with a vehement snort. Uh-oh. Looks like the truce was over. Showing no semblance of gratitude whatsoever, the doe instead surged forward and drove the larger of its two faces into my chest, bunting me backwards onto the ground. I gasped, all the air rushing out of me and pain lashing my body as the beast added further insult to injury and stomped one of its back hooves into my stomach as it turned towards its yearlings, using its head to urge them onward and away from me. They stampeded forwards, heading directly for the bush in which Hancock was currently hunkered.

“The fuck?! Whoa!” He yelled, springing clear just in time to avoid an undue trampling. The radstag and her babies broke through the bushes and took off into the Wasteland; not a second squandered in putting as much distance between them and the scraggly trees that had held them hostage for god knows how long. Leaving Hancock, perplexed and amused and me, sprawled on the ground like a massive tool; clutching my chest and stomach in turn and pleading to God for the pain to ebb.

Hancock recovered from his unexpected usurping much faster than expected and quickly raced to my side, helping me struggle up into a seated position. Hair no doubt frazzled to fuck and with a bleeding hoofmark as my only thanks for what I considered to be a rather noble and selfless act.

“Hey Munch. You all right?” He asked, using his hand to brush my hair back down into place. A strange thing with which to occupy himself with but he knew me well and understood it would be one less thing for me to concern myself with.

I sat there, panting, puffing and irretrievably, undeniably blown away. My world view shattered; perhaps forever. “The ungrateful bitch just fucking rammed me… _and_ trampled me!”

Hancock picked up his coat from the ground and got to work settling it about my shoulder’s once more. “Hey, well I tried to tell you but you were all like-” He emulated a high pitched whiny woman’s voice, with a noticeable tinge of the Fargo accent he always teased me with. “ _’Oh no, not the precious wickle innocent darlings, how could you even think of fucking killing them, Hancock?”_ ” He flapped a hand to the side of his head, gesturing out towards the Radstag shaped hole in the bushes with undisguised exasperation. “ _When_ are you going to realize that I know this Commonwealth just a teensy bit better than you, woman? Those things are frickin’ head cases!”

I held a hand to the wound in my stomach and then brought it out in front of me, seeing the blood marring my palm. It was bleeding sure and would no doubt develop into one hell of a bruise in less than a couple of hours but it wasn’t too bad, considering an animal had fairly much stamped me into the ground.

“I can’t believe it…” I burbled, wiping my hand off on the nearest available patch of grass I could find. “I gave her my trust… and part of my shirt and she… she just… used me… and then she threw my ass to the cleaners!” I stared at Hancock, feeling my lower lip tremble, quite outside my own will. “I feel like I’m back in fucking high school! All I need now is a really awkward trip to the gynaecologist and the experience would be complete.”

He smirked, rubbing the backs of his fingertips against his chest. “Well, I freelance if that helps.” He laughed as I socked him in the arm and then gestured back to the Radstag’s receding buttocks as they hot-hoofed it into the distance. “Sure you don’t want me to shoot her now?”

I pressed an arm over my chest. It was sore to the touch but it didn’t seem as though any ribs had been broken by the Radstag’s ramming me. I took a moment to get my breath back before replying.

“Yeah kinda… but I’ll try to be a better person than that.” I admitted, wincing and slowly easing my arms back through the sleeves of Hancock’s jacket. I’d been feeling the cold the past half hour it had taken to get myself close enough to the Radstag to help and I appreciated the offer to warm myself up some. Especially now that part of my shirt was missing. “It’s not coming easy mind.”

Hancock chuckled a little, doing his utmost to not bandy about the ‘told you so’ train as he knelt beside me. “Shit. You know, I really wanna laugh at you right now but you’re just too much of a fucking sweetheart for me to take pleasure in the fact that ya got your butt beat trying to do something nice.” He lowered his hands to the halves of his jacket, waiting a moment to see whether I would protest before gently pulling them apart. “Commere… let’s have a look.”

I groaned, doing my best to straighten my hair as Hancock examined the bleeding hoof wound. And perhaps the pattern on my really rather unattractive undies at the same time. “God, I just feel like such an idiot. I thought she was like, bonding with me and all.”

Hancock murmured softly, lips pursed as he pressed his fingertips gently to the already bruised skin that was rising up about the wound. “Ah, don’t go beating yourself up. They’re wily those critters. Gotten pretty good at getting what they need from others, just like everything else in the wasteland.” He balled the sleeve of his own shirt into his hand and, against my protests, used it to press to the wound in order to stem the bleeding. “It was amazing that you got as close as you did though. They’re usually a lot more skittish than that.”

“Well… I used to have quite the knack with animals.” I said, tilting my head back and staring up at the sky. Fighting back the sting from the wound as he pressed the fabric of the shirt to it. My breath fogging the air and obscuring the otherwise stark blue of the sky. “Back in 2077 at least. We had horses on the reserve you see…” And because I wasn’t sure whether he would know what this animal was: “Horses were these beautiful animals with long manes, hooves and-”

“Yeah, I seen a picture in a book, Munch. I gottcha.”

I flopped to the ground, back of my hand to my forehead; taking the time to catch my breath and simply allowing Hancock to attend to the injury. What did I care if he was getting a look at me in my knickers? Shit hurt too bad to worry about bringing vanity into the equation.

“Well… there was one in particular. This colt that they were trying to break in. Real temperamental son of a bitch, you know? Didn’t like anyone getting too near the pen or he’d flip a switch and start pounding at the fence posts; all hooves and snorting and carry on.” I chuckled at the memory; of the trepidation it had brought out in the rest of my family. The animal was acting wild and refusing to respond to the traditional training techniques. We didn’t try to break a horse in; not the same way that the white men had done in the old times. My people did their utmost to work in commune with the beast; to form a bond, a connection, so as to acquire trust and through that, compliance when required. This boy however, did not wish to meet halfway. He wanted to run and fight and break the fences down and shoot through to wherever it was that dwelt beyond. It’s like… he always knew there was more to the puzzle than just us and our way of life. He couldn’t abide a… caged existence.

I smiled up at the sky, remembering how it all come to pass in the end. Just when the others had all but given up hope. “Not with me though. I was only nine years old at the time and as I wandered up and down the fence line, he would follow me back and forth, trying to put his face through the fence to nuzzle me. I was completely… unafraid then. My Grandfather said I had a special something with animals. That they could… sense something about my nature.”

Hancock huffed softly; not dismissive like most folks might have been but genuinely acknowledging the statement and respecting it. “That you were gentle. Animals are a pretty good judge of character. He would have known you meant him no mean.”

I sat up, smirking down at him as he continued blotting away the blood on my stomach. “Kind of like a sixth sense, you mean? I wonder…” I flopped my head back to the ground, chasing back through my corroded old mind for the lingering memories of that time. That simplistic, happy time… those warm wonderful days and those sweet, selfless people. “They got me roped into helping saddle up that colt, since I was the only one he seemed to actually like. I rode him for years, well into my teens when he was an old boy. Never really took to anyone else except me.” I exuded another mist of breath, working my hand up through it as though the images would come springing into life through the manipulations of my words and gestures alone. “Worked with a lot of animals on the reserve during that time – horses, _churros_ , birds, dogs, cows, even some deer and they all responded well… until today that is.” I sighed, dropping my arm back to my chest and hissing at the sting this caused. Stupid idiot. “My self-respect has taken just as much a beating as my big fat ass. How embarrassment.”

Hancock climbed to his feet, his face hovering in front of my vision and casting a shadow across my own features. He smiled down at me, eyes creased with that look of tender affection I so rarely got the chance to witness.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about. It was actually kinda… cute.”

I pursed my lips into a pout; staring up at him, unconvinced. He acquiesced; shrugging his shoulders and staring off to the side.

“Fine, you looked a massive knob. Anyway, the wound doesn’t look too bad, so we’ll get ya back and bandage her up.” He made a pistol hand down at me and clucked his cheek as he pretended to fire it off. “Glass of wine and you won’t even notice.”

I groaned, rubbing my hand across my forehead and wondering if my stomach was up to the task of moving just yet. “Uh… I’m feeling just crap enough to drink in the morning. My stomach was already caning from being sick, this just fucking adds to it.”

“I’ll give you a hand then.” He offered, reaching down and clasping his palm to mine as I reached up, weakly and pathetically, towards him. “Come on, up and at ‘em.”

He tugged me slowly, achingly onto my feet; mercifully shielded from the surrounding sharp rocks and shit by his charitably offered boots. I placed one arm about his shoulders and he in turn steadied his arm about my waist. The heat from where our bodies met at the side felt nice and in spite of the cold billowing across the bared flesh of my stomach, I felt warm and safe there in his supportive embrace.

“Okay… think I should be okay if we just take it easy.” I glanced up, noticed him staring down at me; eyes plainly focused elsewhere but my own. His expression however was not one of attraction and or admiration but… I don’t know. Warmth, maybe? Tenderness? He actually… looked a little weak, as though some unbidden emotion had just surged to the surface and struck him dumb. “What, what is it?”

He realized that he had been staring and quickly turned away. I imagine if he had been capable of showing a blush on those weathered cheeks, he may very well have done. “Ain’t nothing, Munch. Should we get a move on?”

And because I can never leave anything alone, I kept at it like the proverbial dog with the bone. “No seriously, what is it? You looked like you just completely spaced out on me… chems kick in?”

He chuckled, sort of ironically. “Heh. Like I had a chance to get any into me this morning. Nah, it’s nothing like that. I was just thinking… how much better Hancock’s duds look on you than on me.”

Now it was my turn to blush, though I couldn’t say I minded the compliment in the least. “Well thanks.” I said, reaching up with my spare hand to yank on one half of the coat; fluffing it out. “It’s a pretty awesome coat, I think anyone would be hard pressed to look shithouse in it.”

“Actually, I think it’s probably the fact that you’re nearly naked underneath that’s doing it for me…” Hancock murmured, in that sort of stage-whisper thing where a person intends for you to hear exactly what it is that they are saying. I took a half-hearted swipe at him for it, though there was no vehemence in it. We started to make our way back towards the outpost, me leaning most of my weight on Hancock as he supported me. I felt very weak from where the Radstag had hit me and I started suspected that she had driven into a nerve, which was in turn making my legs feel a little weak. My right one didn’t seem to want to take too much and was prickling with that distinctive ‘dead-limb’ feel that I had grown accustomed to in some of my previous martial arts bouts. Guess we would simply have to resolve ourselves to slow moving.

We arrived back at the Outpost… no, wait. This is the whole point of your entire story, Doe. You want this back, you can round it all off? … No? Shoot, I’m not good at telling a funny story, you know that. Ah well, I’ll do my best to do it justice.

So, we arrived back at the Outpost to near-absolute bedlam. When we got back inside the shack, everyone was sitting around with a look on their faces as though one of the group had just died. Cait and MacCready were sitting on the sofa; side by side and about as equally green around the gills. Nick was perched in his chair by the fire, fingers linked together and staring down at them, occasionally twirling one metallic digit around the complimentary synthetic partner. Deacon leaned against the wall and he looked uncharacteristically sombre; index finger pressed to his upper lip. There was a retching sound coming from the bathroom and I could only assume that this was poor Piper. Perhaps her illness was having a second wind and this was why they looked so worried.

“Hey… what’s going on?” I asked, looking about at the collective group of faces, which all swivelled in unison to stare up at Hancock and myself. The state of my face at least managed to rouse a half-hearted laugh from Cait (‘Evie, have you got a _dick_ on your forehead?’) but this was about the extent of their efforts.

Hancock helped lower me gingerly to the floor by the fire, where Dogmeat immediately came simpering over to rest his head in my lap. I caressed the smooth line of his forehead, glancing about the room and waiting for a response.

It was Nick, of course, who nominated himself as spokesperson and I could tell he wasn’t the least happy to be elected. His synthetic expression was not one that I had cause to see very often; one of unimpeachable guilt. He didn’t even look at Hancock and myself as he spoke.

“A… caravan came into town whilst the two of you were… out.” He said and I thought it a small miracle in and of itself that he hadn’t even queried the specifics of our absence. “They had, uh… just come from Lakowski’s Longneck’s. The uh… business that prepares tinned meat.”

Hancock flopped down beside me inelegantly, one of his brows quirking up into the lines of his forehead. “Same stuff that we ate and got sick off of, you mean? Were they havin’ the same issues?”

Nick nodded slowly, his eyes still pinned resolutely on some point that traversed even further than the floor itself. “Sounds as though… a lot of people have been. It was affecting the caravan’s business, so they decided to go a’knocking with a few members of the Minutemen. Get to the bottom of it.” He looked over at the two of us now, expression just as severe as I had ever seen it. “There was a… fight, apparently. Nasty fight. Lakowski’s dead.”

“Damn.” Hancock murmured as I whistled long and low from between my teeth. “What the hell was the guy trying to cover up? Something he apparently felt was worth dying over… or… killing over, rather…”

He trailed off, apparently coming to the same morbid conclusion that I myself had started to consider. Given the sullen and or disturbed countenances of those around us, I can only imagine what might have been uncovered by the caravan crew who had had the misfortune to wander up on Lakowski’s business. Especially when you consider how sick we had all gotten off of it.

“Nick…” I said, giving him a long, pleading look; hoping against hope that I was wrong. That the Hollywood horror movie trope that I could see swiftly speeding towards me wasn’t about to be made a reality. “Please tell me that he was simply stuffing rotten produce into cans and marketing it as fresh. Because if you tell me that I think you’re about to tell me, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat meat again.”

Nick pursed his lips, stared at the ground and then glanced over at the both of us apologetically. I was on my feet in a heartbeat; my stomach curdling, my heart thundering in my chest. I turned, grabbed the mantle above the fireplace and rocked forwards and backwards, numb to the previous aches and pains that had lain siege to my body.

“Oh no… Oh no, no, _no_ …” I begged, turning and staring, wide eyed and panicky at Nick as Hancock went about as white as I had ever seen him; one hand pressed to his mouth. “Are you telling me that… Longneck Lakowski’s tinned meat is… _people?!_ We ate _people meat?!_ ”

Everyone’s silence on the matter was answer enough for me and I turned with a violated groan, clasping the mantle again and dropping my head so dramatically between my arms that I’m surprised my neck didn’t snap through.

“Oh my god… Oh my god, oh my god, _oh my god_ … I’m a freakin’ _cannibal!!_ ” I gasped, understanding now why Piper was back in the bathroom hurling her guts up. Any remnant of the remains would have left our system in that first day surely; what with all the vomiting and diarrhea that we had experienced but it had still _been_ in us for some hours. Our body supping nutrients and slurping up… whatever meagre goodness that rotted, fetid meat might have contained in some microscopic portion of it. Some part of another human had become a part of _me_ and there was no way I could just scrape that shit off and dispose of it! Bits of it had gone through my heart and into my bloodstream and into my brain and… Oh Jesus, God. Was there any coming back from this? Was I always from this point on, doomed to be a cannibal? Not just me but all of us! Are you considered a cannibal just with one passing imbibement of human flesh, or is it a term ascribed only to those who put into practice the consumption of human meat?

“It uh… it’s even kinda worse than old Nicky boys making it out to be.” Deacon murmured, his voice possessing a very distinctive quaver that I had never before witnessed. He was well and truly freaked _the fuck out._ “Because… technically, this makes Hancock the biggest cannibal out of all of us.”

“Hancock the biggest… what does that mean?” I queried, confused by the context. But Hancock, who’s features had only gone more the ashen at Deacon’s words, had clearly cottoned on to his meaning. He groaned, running his hands back over his pallid features.

“You’ve got… you’ve gotta be kidding me.” He said, staring out over his fingertips at our collective, nauseated and forever tainted expressions. “Ghouls… he was… using the flesh from… feral Ghouls.”

 

** Evelyn Hallows **

**_Goodneighbor – Current Day…_ **

 

“So, as you can imagine, with that discovery, everyone’s appetites were promptly forgotten and I got away with having denied the collective group of some delicious Radstag.” I rounded off, faced with a room of people who were groaning with what I hoped was sympathy and not as feedback for my somewhat loathsome story telling abilities. Never mind those who had, in their time, undoubtedly also consumed the same tinned meat. “And also, I should hope, neatly answers the circulating and not at all appreciated theories as to why Hancock and I emerged from the Wasteland the way that we did.” I thrust the microphone back towards Deacon heatedly, who had to stop laughing and clapping his appreciation of my obvious annoyance with him. “ _’Fucking hickey on the stomach’._ Radstag _hoof print,_ you shit stirring asshole. _Hoof print!_ ”

“Yeah. Cannibal or not, I don’t bite that damn hard.” Hancock called from somewhere in the darkness and I held out my glass in the direction that his voice came, saluting as the room erupting with laughter and applause.

“Hey, Evie. Sing something.” I heard Pattie yell out, just as the noise from the room had dimmed to a few spattered claps and whoops. I leaned close to the microphone in Deacon’s hands, lowering my voice to a baritone-esque impression of Adrian’s natural tone.

“No, mother fucker.”

The crowd loved this and clapped again as I trotted to the edge of the stage and inelegantly struggled down, hot tailing it back to my seat and Hancock’s waiting, receptive arm. I slid back in as quickly as I could, picking up my coaster and using it to fan my hot face as Hancock squeezed my shoulders and gave me a small peck to the cheek.

“Ya did well, love.”

I groaned, reaching into the bucket in which the wine bottle was resting and pulled out a chunk of ice that was swimming in a gradually increasing pool of water. I brought it to my neck and chest, allowing the drops to drip down and cool my heated flesh.

“Oh god. So embarrassing. Hate you, hate you, hate you.”

He laughed, leaning down and catching a drop of water as it worked its way into the base of my throat; sliding his tongue back along the path it had taken before bringing it back into his mouth. He kissed behind my ear; only succeeding in making my skin flush all the further.

“Nah, ya don’t.” He sang back, smarmily; sinking into his seat and grinning at my flustered features. Thankfully, Deacon had drawn the crowds’ attention back to the front of the room and away from me. Something I would certainly have to thank him for later, given what a gibbering, sweaty loon I was being.

“The Christmas lesson we can derive from this, my good friends, is to not eat shit that you haven’t seen prepared. Or at the very least. To trust no one. Merry Christmas.” Deacon cheered, raising his nearly depleted glass of red wine to thunderous applause and the systematic saluting of everyone else’s assorted drinks in turn. He sipped back daintily on his beverage before turning with an extravagant swish of his pinafore to the piano that I had seen earlier. He strutted towards it. “And, in the spirt of giving that Evie _clearly_ isn’t in the habit of providing, I will nobly accept the aforementioned request and enchant you fine people with a little ditty.”

A hush had fallen across the room; bizarre, given how receptive the audience had been until now. I saw, from the corner of my eye, Meyer climb from his seat. He called out, his own voice strangely hesitant.

“Um… Doe, you uh… might not wanna…”

He trailed off as Hancock raised his free hand over our heads and gestured for him to sit back down. Everyone turned towards us and I looked into his face, at his relaxed smile; tinged with what appeared to be just the… slightest touch of… sadness, maybe?

“It’s okay, Meyer.” He said, using his Watchmen’s name but placating more than just him in the one sentence. “He wouldn’t wanna see ‘em collecting dust. Why I brought ‘em out here.”

Meyer stared over at Hancock for a moment; looking uncertain before, with guidance from Meaghan’s hand, returned to his seat. The rest of the room relaxed immediately but Deacon, respectful enough to not impose, looked over towards Hancock and gestured at the piano.

“Hey, you sure, Hancock? I don’t want to go stepping on anyone’s toes or anything.”

Hancock chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s all good, brother. Town needs more music if anything. And I already done the disrespect when I threw up in it two years ago.” He moved his hand across, palm up as though offering the piano on a silver platter. “Old girls all yours.”

With consent duly received, Deacon relaxed and continued his trek over to the adorable little piano; a petite number that would not have looked out of place in an old Western tavern. With some bearded guy, pinching a pipe in his teeth banging away on the keys as people threw back beers and flirted with women in ruffled skirts whilst two drunk dudes locked fists by the bar.

“Well, for all the good it’ll do.” Deacon stated, swishing himself elegantly down onto the piano seat and tucking himself up under the keyboard. His feet found the peddles with such ease that I knew right away that he was only playing the fool from the waist up. “I mean… who’s to say I’ll even get so much as a palatable note from this thing…”

He hit a few keys, listened with a tilt of his head and then, when he was good and certain everything was tuned correctly (I suspected he may in fact have tuned the piano before the entire performance. With Deacon, planning was key) started to play a peppy, upbeat number with a wide mouthed ‘O’ of surprise directed at the audience. His fingers flew across the keys, his eyes not so much as glancing down for a second. He continued playing it up for the audience, who clapped and clamoured and carried on as he switched tunes; from some complicated sounding thing I’d never heard of, to the droll, maudlin tones of ‘ _Moonlight Sonata’_ to the stereotypical, jarring key banging resonance of ‘ _Chopsticks_ ’. The crowd lapped up every minute of it; clapping along, waving their hands, drinks and lighters alike.

Finally, when he had them good and roused, Deacon ran his hands back and forth across the keys, gave a stirring bang to the centre of the board before plucking out some sort of intermediary elevator sounding type music. Background noise, if anything.

“Got a little song I’d like to round the evening out with folks, if I may.” He said, smiling from beneath his pretty little pinafore and nodding his head in mine and Hancock’s direction. “Like to dedicate it to my two fellow cannibals out there. Been a hell of a time travelling with you two. Feel free to get up and have your first proper dance as girlfriend and ghoulfriend. Congrats and here’s to a very Merry Christmas. And to all of Goodneighbor; a good night.”

He changed the tone up, to a cheerful sounding song that I immediately recognized as Frank Sinatra’s ‘ _That’s Life’_. A few notes in, he started to sing and it was all I could do, not to stop still and press my fingers to my mouth because I had never heard Deacon sing before and more’s the pity. He had an _amazing_ voice. Shouldn’t have surprised me, given how good his impressions were but he sounded almost exactly like Sinatra himself when he sang. The crowd was obviously impressed as well because they let off a round of applause immediately; some of them even jumping from their seats to show their appreciation.

“Well, you heard the man.” Hancock said, taking one last sip from his drink before dropping the glass back onto the table and climbing to his feet. He held out his hand to me, smiling along the line of his arm before dipping his left eye into an altogether charming wink. “Ms Hallows; may I have this dance?”

I chuckled, sipping from my wine before abandoning it atop the coaster I had been earlier using to fan myself and dropping my fingertips into Hancock’s waiting palm. “Mr Mayor, it would be my honor.”

Warmth flooded his face as he guided me up out of my seat and we moved free of the table and chairs to the front of the room; to the space that had plainly been cleared for this purpose. I wrapped my arm about Hancock’s shoulders, pressing my palm to the centre of his back, whilst keeping a hold of his other hand with my own. Unlike the past, when we had danced together as friends, we linked these fingers together and the hand that he set to my back, travelled just that slightest bit lower, so that the fingers rested against the rise of my bottom.

We pulled tight to one another; chest to chest, hip to hip, thighs to thighs. We swayed with the music, aware of others drifting up to join us, of Meyer passing some remark to Hancock as he and Meaghan wavered away to the left of us somewhere. All of it kind of rose and fell; dimmed and faded. There was the music. There was Deacon’s voice and then there was us.

“I’m happy you’re home.” Hancock murmured, dropping his lips and pressing them firm to my own. I cupped my hand to the back of his neck, pulled him in tighter, thinking all the while that I had never felt so much at home in my entire life. It was in his arms; this place of peace that I had forever been searching for and I could only hope and pray that it would last.

 

_“ _ _That's life (that's life) that's what people say___

_Y _ou're riding high in April Shot down in May__

__But I know I'm gonna change that tune_ _

__When I'm back on top, back on top in June_ _

 

_I said, that's life (that's life) and as funny as it may seem_

_Some people get their kicks_

_Stompin' on a dream_

_But I don't let it, let it get me down '_

_Cause this fine old world it keeps spinnin' around_

 

_I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate_

_A poet, a pawn and a king_

_I've been up and down and over and out_

_And I know one thing_

_Each time I find myself flat on my face_

_I pick myself up and get back in the race_

 

_That's life (that's life) I tell ya, I can't deny it_

_I thought of quitting, baby_

_B _ut my heart just ain't gonna buy it__

__And if I didn't think it was worth one single try_ _

__I'd jump right on a big bird and then I'd fly_ _

 

_I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate_

_A poet, a pawn and a king_

_I've been up and down and over and out_

_And I know one thing_

_Each time I find myself layin' flat on my face I_

_just pick myself up and get back in the race_

 

_That's life (that's life) that's life_

_And I can't deny it_

_Many times I thought of cuttin' out but my heart won't buy it_

_But if there's nothing shakin' come here this July_

_I'm gonna roll myself up in a big ball and die_

_My, my..”_

**_~_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You guys have been so patient and I promise that in the next chapter there will be dating, food tasting, kissing and sexing it up. It may be in January (and goddamn I wish I could have gotten it to you all as a Christmas gift) but this is what I have for you instead. You guys have no idea how badly I wanted to have Deacon performing the Cuphead Rap by Machinima towards the end. I am freakin’ obsessed with that song at the moment!
> 
> So please, if you enjoyed, leave a comment, a kudos, a question, a query, a marriage proposal, whatever floats your boat. And until next time, love to you all, safe travels in the holiday season, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Party it up like you’re livin’ it large in Goodneighbor!
> 
> All my love
> 
> ~MadamMortis~ xxx ooo


	19. Reawakening: Pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smile he wore in return, spoke of a knowing far greater than anything I felt I had ever broached in my short, tired and hypocritically lived life. The understanding that some good deeds came still from tarnished hands. That snow-white purity begot cruel deeds of a calibre unprecedented of those who had tasted the supposed vices on offer in a callous and unfeeling world. That peace and contentment were not always found in a still and sober world; elicited through the gentle stirrings of a blithesome stream and clucking of a fen bird in wanton longing of the spring it somehow knew was just about the corner. Sometimes, peace was smoke and drink and pills and crushing fingertips and bruising, lustful lips and things so dark they would turn the white of snow to bitter, grainy ash. It was this. It was him. And it was me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Fallout 4 and its assorted motley of quirky characters belong to Bethesda. This story is quite obviously a piece of fan work and as such I garner no revenue from its distribution. Tempting as a GoFund me project sounds…
> 
> Note: Salute, bonjour, bonsour my freaky darlings! It has been a long time coming (no pun intended) but the chapter is finally here! Well, the two chapters are finally here. Due to character restrictions, I had to chop this bad boy in half. Luckily, they will be coming to you at the same time. So, what are you waiting for? Get on in and read it! Catch you on the flip side!

> _“Time was passing like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on. I hope you never have to think about anything as much as I think about you.”_ ― **Jonathan Safran Foer**

 

** Evelyn Hallows **

**_Goodneighbor – Current Day…_ **

 

“Mind if I… cut in?”

Hancock flashed an amused smile as Deacon swished up to us with a generous flutter of his bountiful lace adornments. Having thoroughly appeased the room with several upbeat songs on the piano, he had finally bequeathed the stage to the tenure of the jukebox; which was currently cycling through a number of familiar, pre-recorded numbers. Hancock and I were but one of many couples still up and dancing; among which Magnolia and Kent featured prominently. If Hancock had been an insecure man, he might have resented the amount of interest I was showing them; peering around and over his shoulder during rotations, trying to get a good gander as to what was going on. Kent’s eyes appeared to be staring at anything other than the woman in front of him; though I gathered that this was not from lack of interest but rather, far too much of it.

Magnolia, as per the norm, was a vision to behold, and all the more intimidating on account of it. Her glossy, shoulder length black hair framed her porcelain features impeccably; ruby lips curled up in that perpetual knowing smile as her blue, deep set eyes gazed out from between immaculate, half-cast lashes. Even dressed casually as she was; in carefully ironed slacks and a billowy blouse, she presented a striking visage. Enough so that most men’s eyes were immediately drawn to her. Some women just have that special ‘thing’ about them, don’t they? A naturally exuding sexiness that I had clearly been at the back of the line for, when pheromone allotment was being handed out in Heaven.

Kent held her the way most boys would frame a woman at their Freshman dance; enough space between them for a small frigate to pass through and a hand perched high up on her waist. I imagined if Ghouls were capable of blushing, his hat would have near caught alight from the self-conscious heat his face was emitting.

“Hmm… I dunno.” Hancock mused, resting a finger against my chin and using it to steer my face back towards him. Whoopsie. “Way you were talkin’ about stealin’ her away from me before…”

“Can you blame me?” Deacon said unashamedly, reaching up to straighten the little maids hat that had fallen slightly askew on his shaven head. “Or, to put a different spin on it; _wouldn’t_ you blame me if I _didn’t_ observe the appeal of this lovely young lady?”

“This ‘lovely young lady’ who is standing right here and can make up her own mind about who she may or may not wish to dance with.” I remarked tartly, reaching up to smack my palm to the curve of Hancock’s chin. I held him in place long enough to plant a kiss to his smirking mouth and a firm slap to the hiney. “Go put your feet up and grab a drink. I’ll take this one for a quick spin around the floor.”

Hancock tilted his head, acquiescing with a smile as he passed my hand over and into Deacon’s waiting palm. “I’m due for a slash anyway. Just be sure and give her back when you’re done, eh?”

“So long as you remember to wash your hands.” Deacon sang, reaching up and doffing the lacy peak of his maids’ hat as I drifted to his side. He then crouched low, wrapped both arms around my middle and attempted to hoist me up over his shoulder. He mugged it up; grunting and groaning more than was strictly necessary, as he turned and toddler shuffled in the vague direction of the stairwell, as though making off with me into the night. I crooked my elbow up on his shoulder, fist to my cheek and staring at Hancock with a bored expression on my face. He just laughed and shook his head, waving a palm nonchalantly as he paused by the table to take another slog from his drink. Let it never be said that this was a man threatened by much of anything.

His little joke played out, Deacon lowered me the two or so feet back to the floor and laughed as he held his arms out and gave a little curtsey on the spot.

“Shall we?”

I smiled as I mimicked his curtsey, stepping in close and sliding my fingers up into his waiting palm. It felt contrarily smooth, with very little in the way of rough skin or callouses. More the unfamiliar now with how accustomed I had grown to Hancock’s ragged flesh.

“We shall.”

Deacon chuckled, bringing his hand around to rest under my shoulder blade, whilst cradling my right hand within his own. I placed my arm about his shoulders, laughing as Hancock crouched and squinted; visually measuring the distance between our bodies. Satisfied that our pelvises were appropriately segregated, he gave a parting, comradely slap to Deacon’s back before trotting happily off in the direction of the stairwell.

“Might I be so bold as to say that you are a vision of callipygian loveliness this evening?” Deacon stated, affecting a pompous, though genuine sounding air as he led me about the dancefloor; bestowing far too much swish to his hips as we went. I think he liked the way that the ruffled skirt flipped about his thighs. What callipygian meant, I can’t pretend to know but I’ll assume Deacon was fond enough of me for it to not hold my thighs in reference to those in possession of a baby hippopotamus.

“Please my darling; I am but a dim bulb in comparison to your brightly shining star.” I said, to which he pursed his lips and gave a conceited little ‘side-to-side’ swish of his head. A sort of ‘well, look at what I got goin’ on’ mien.

“Girl, I know I look good. I _always_ look good.”

I raised a brow at him; no doubt replicating that self-same expression he had pointed out enviously in his story. “Is that so? _Well,_ might I be so bold as to contravene that statement with the suggestion that you perhaps _didn’t_ look so good this afternoon when one happened to walk in on your bare bottom waving around in the air.”

Deacon snorted with affront and a not at all disguised air of scepticism. “This coming from the girl who thinks Hancock’s wrinkly old tush is worth looking at every day?” The lines soothed out from between his eyes and he laughed, branching his left foot out widely so that he could all but sweep me halfway across the floor like a janitor’s mop. The momentum left me dizzy and reeling for a moment but he kept me steady with his arms as he slid back in close and turned me in a few tight, fast rotations. Wine sloshed audibly about the chambers of my stomach. “Serious though; sorry about that. I’m used to being super discreet about things and lately… I’ve been letting the side down.”

“You don’t got to be sorry about th-” I started to say but he quickly cut off my attempted assuaging of his feelings with a dismissive flick of his head.

“In my line of work… well _our_ line of work, that’s a _lot_ to be sorry for, Cherub.” He opined, features poised in that rarely seen visage of significance. Accented, strangely enough by the corresponding side by side swaying of our hips; linked hands bobbing about beside us ‘I’m a little teacup’ style. “When you got a big bad like the Institute dogging your shadow, smaller slip us can cost you everything. Could just as easily have been a Courser walking in on us. Or an assassin.”

“Both of which possess greater finesse than a clumsy old mama like me.” I remarked, though not without acknowledging his point on the matter. It was true Deacon hadn’t lived as long as he had (however long that might have been) without exercising undue caution and discretion. He’d have made a hell of a chess player if he was ever so inclined to sit down long enough to complete a game. Like a savant of the craft, he had this uncanny knack of keeping two to three steps ahead of his opponents at all times. Possessing an unrivalled ability to anticipate what may or may not transpire in just about any given situation; superseded only by the statistically quantified predictions of the Railroad’s Assaultron unit PAM.

But let it never be said that Evelyn Hallows operated by such an unrealistic format. I remain and naively I suppose, always _will_ remain a steadfast champion of the human condition. And all the weaknesses and shortcomings that are part and parcel of being but a mere mortal in the universal maelstrom.

“But… I think you’re being a little hard on yourself.” I stated, divesting a gentle pat to the back of his shoulder. Trying to stare past the dark lenses of his glasses and get a glimpse of that near inscrutable soul that lurked, somewhere deep beyond the grazing brush of my metaphorical fingers. “Given everything that we went through with the Rolling Ranch… all the suffering we saw, that we _ourselves_ went through…”

“There’s always going to be a ‘Rolling Ranch’, Cherub.” Deacon asserted, his tone not the least unkind but as bright and airy as it nearly always was. Such a cheerful sounding inflection but colder than most anything I had ever heard spoken in anger. “Always gonna be a ‘Broken Mask’ a ‘genocidal wipe-out’ a ‘kidnap for ransom’ a ‘tragic backstory’. A hundred thousand-million- _trillion_ things that can serve as an excuse for any number of reckless stupidities. If we all gave ourselves permission to slide off of the rails at a moment’s notice, how on earth will the world ever get back on track?”

It was a good point but one that I would have much preferred to not be the responsibility of one of my dear friends to uphold. I lifted my brows on high, adopting an expression I hope was suitably scolding as Deacon continued to rotate me about the cleared space of the Third Rail.

“Now, I hope you’re not suggesting that you have a duty to sacrifice your God-given right to normality, Deacon. Because that’s far too melodramatic for my tastes.”

He hmmed thoughtfully, tilting his head back so that his veiled eyes were likely cast to the ceiling. “Never went much on that term ‘God-given.’ Even less on ‘normality’. What is ‘God’? What is ‘normal’? They’re _abstract_ , is what they are, Cherub. One, a comforting reference. The other, a comforting perception of the way we feel things _ought_ to be.”

“That’s deep.” I observed, stepping back so that we could join both sets of hands and step into first the left and then the right-hand side of one another. He gave me a twirl, brought me in with my arm wrapped about my upper chest before spinning me back out and then resuming our previous embrace. He flashed those matching rows of fluorescent white teeth at me; no doubt as surgically enhanced as the rest of his features. They were stained a little red, on account of the wine he’d been drinking. It was thick and heady on his breath. I wondered just how much he’d had to drink that day. His muscles felt a little looser than normal; a subtle observation, given that he didn’t often present with taut posture. And we weren’t in the habit of cuddling up to one another. Not… regularly, anyway.

“Guess I’ve gotten to thinking about things at a subterranean level these days.” He mused, the more theatrical, swirling, dipping and bobbing efforts of our dance falling away quite as suddenly as had surfaced the shift in his tone. The left side of his lip quirked up as he looked at me and he huffed, as though amused with himself. “Hancock tells me… I got you to thank for uh… offing that um, what-cha-ma call it? Messed up twin lady. You know.”

It was very telling to me that someone as intelligent and as proficient in their information retention as Deacon would fumble with the details pertaining to this particular person. We both knew that he remembered. I would go so far as to surmise that a brain as sharp as Deacon’s wouldn’t fail to recall the more finite aspects of this individuals’ character. The slow, calm, authoritarian voice. Those shrewd, hawklike eyes. A round jaw, belying the hard, merciless soul to whom it belonged. Lips with such distinctly sharp points they appeared as though they had been sliced into being with the tip of a knife.

 _Ariana_.

A Wrangler, who, at the unwitting service of her twin brother Josef, enacted some of the greatest perversions I had ever seen or heard of. Even Barbados; capable of stilling the movements of such brave souls as Hancock and Cait with his legacy of violence and humiliation, couldn’t compare to what that woman’s’ fucked up mind could conjure.

Worse still because she hadn’t been unintelligent. She was highly perceptive; well spoken, verbose and acerbically witty. Her physique had been unremarkable enough that it hadn’t triggered the least suspicion in me; not at first glance. But she had been careful to dress in such a manner that it disguised the leanness of her muscles. This, when coupled with her tightly honed physical combat skills, her fearlessness and rampant sadism, resulted in nothing short of a formidable and terrifying adversary. I would go so far as to say that she was ruthless but the word itself lends something to the emotion of anger. Ariana had been cruel, certainly vicious and one hundred percent gleeful in her approach to breaking the will of others. So ridiculously stereotypical in her cartoonish madness it would have been laughable. If the reality hadn’t been so damn terrifying.

“Yeah. I know.” I said, leaning forward and pressing my forehead to the side of his jaw. Holding him tighter to my embrace, without a care as to whether he wanted to try and play it tough or not. Fuck it. “Strangled the sick bitch with my big old man arms. Took me a coons age but I got there eventually.”

“Seems a fitting way to go.” Deacon observed, a tiny, near imperceptible quaver marring his otherwise perfectly carefree inflection. He cleared his throat, though it failed to have much of an impact on his next words. Some emotion was welling up from beneath the carefully reinforced fortifications erected within the depths of his mind. “I know uh… Hancock didn’t tell you much…”

“Only that you were hurt by her. Nothing else.”

“Yeah… that’s good.” He said, his fingers tightening against mine and continuing to assert that pressure as our bodies continued to slowly rotate beneath the sparsely flickering fairy lights. “Shows a lot of class, keeping his word like that. But I… I wanted to thank you. Because she… she hurt us _bad,_ Eve. She hurt us real, real _bad._ She did things I couldn’t imagine a person was ever capable of. And, not to sound sexist but… I didn’t think a _woman_ would be able to do, you know?”

“That’s because she wasn’t really human.” I established firmly and then, because I didn’t want my meaning to be misconstrued, added: “And I don’t mean in the sense that she was a Synth. There was something deeply wrong with her that existed irrespective of that.”

“Hmm. I wonder.” Deacon murmured, sounding unconvinced. “I used to think the word ‘evil’ was just as much an abstract construct as ‘God’ and ‘normal’. A means for us to add emphasis to a gut feeling we get when in the presence of something we either can’t understand or tolerate. But now… _now_ I think I get it.”

I didn’t say anything because I understood Deacon well enough to know that when he was talking serious like this, it was best to simply shut up and let him get to his point. Though it was quite true that he dribbled a lot of shit, there were those moments, few and far between where his words held great clarity. And the effortless manner in which he seemed to corral his emotions, only lent greater importance to times such as this. It was not with ease that he renounced such control and for that very reason, his words demanded the utmost curtesy of my attention.

“You would think… people who feel nothing are capable of the greatest acts of evil. Because they’d have no boundaries to fear. But that… woman.” He tilted his head back slightly, took a deep, laboured breath. Staggered it out inch by bare inch. “I… looked her right in the eyes… closer than you and I are right now. And the problem with her, Cherub, the very thing that compelled her to enact those atrocities, was _far_ from nothing. Rather, I think, that she felt _way_ too much. It wasn’t like staring into the void of space but staring into the collective minds of a hundred madmen. Wherever that energy goes when their lives dissipate, you know? Scared the… absolute living fuck out of me. And whatever I might pretend; I don’t scare easy, Cherub.”

He had no reason to make apologies for the fear he had felt. I understood all too well. There was something… fathomless and indescribable about being in the presence of that woman. Whatever equated to the true construct of evil, I had little doubt that if she did not embody it entirely then she was at least the foremost contender.

I remembered… all of us, perched up at that madman’s façade of a dinner table; that poor girl lashed about the face with that swollen colostomy bag. Her choked, squalling screams as Ariana worked her eyeballs from her socket with nothing more dexterous than her own thumbs. Feeding them between her brothers’ slack, toddler like lips as though they were nothing less lovely than dinner chocolates…

I cupped my palm about Deacon’s neck, pressed lightly as I leaned in close to whisper into his ear. “She’s gone now.” I murmured, lifting the backs of my fingers to caress to the curve of his chin. I had seen a quaver work its way down his jaw; uninhibited by the tight clenching of his teeth. “You don’t have to be afraid of her anymore. You survived. _She_ didn’t.”

He huffed softly, using his now free hand to push his glasses up out of the way. Tears beaded across his eyelashes and he wiped at them distractedly with his thumb and index finger. It made my heart ache just as deeply as it had the very first time I had seen Hancock pushed to tears. There were some people who could always catch you by surprise when they lost control. I could now understand entirely where Piper had been coming from. To see someone like Deacon, with the emotional constitution of titanium, cracking apart. Light streaming through… I wanted to bundle up the loose, broken pieces of his soul, press them to my heart and somehow, through force of pure love and will, solder them back together.

“I know. I know and I… I just…” He pulled his glasses away, brought them up to hang suspended upon the lip of his maids’ hat. His eyes, dark movie star blue (how could I _forget_ a color like that?) bore down into my own with a seriousness I hadn’t seen on his face since those horrid days of the Rolling Ranch. It caught me by surprise; made me feel a bit breathless. He looked somehow… more severe, without his glasses. “I wish I could make this dosh darn big old brain of mine filter out the memories, you know?” He knocked his knuckle against his temple and smiled; self-admonishingly. “Close my eyes and I see her, I feel her. I feel what she… what she did…”

That ever so familiar nuance… that heavy temulence of shame, of humiliation. Was it so difficult to imagine that what Marowski was capable of, that that bitch had been capable of too? There were female Raiders who I’m certain were no less predatory than their male counterparts.

The tide of empathy swelling in my chest, boiled over with anger. Would a one of us be left untouched by the time our lives came to a close? Cait, John, myself and now Deacon too? This was _wrong._ It was so _wrong_!

“I know… it doesn’t mean much but… it gets easier. To blot it out, I mean.” I assured him, aware that what might otherwise have been a subtle comment to others, would have resonated deeply with someone as intuitive as Deacon. Seems I needn’t have concerned myself, however. Of course, he had already figured it out.

“I’d do what I could anyway. You know. To help catch that son of a bitch.” Deacon remarked, giving his eyes another quick, impatient wipe before sliding his glasses back on. “But knowing what you did… that you got rid of that fucking oxygen thief… I wanna try and return the favor.” His lips quirked up at the corners, his sharp canines showing just over his lower lip almost vampire like. It was a friendly smile, even with that image in mind. “And you know… thanks. Thanks for having the guts to do what you did. That sort of shit never comes easy.”

“Easier with _her_ than it has been with anyone else.” I stated, quite honestly as Deacon gave me another gentle turn. During my rotation, I noticed that Hancock had returned from the bathroom and was talking casually with Pattie and one or two women that seemed to be lingering about. I turned back towards Deacon, kept my arm tight and comforting about his shoulder. “Hey, um… that stuff with Piper. It’s not my business but uh, were you…”

His smile looked the more radiant at my query; more the evidence that his walls were up again. “Heh… when you ever let something like someone’s ‘own business’ be a deterrent, Cherub?” He asked, tilting his forehead down just enough to flick a wink from behind his glasses. “Thought I might’ve been… feeling it again, you know? But there’s a lot of emotion that hangs over from going through the sorta shit we went through. Easier sometimes just to rest comfortable in an arrangement that’s transpired rather than wrest yourself back out into painful reality.”

 _Well, wasn’t that the truth_? I thought to myself, wondering whether this had been Hancock’s mindset those instances he had put me off during our travels together. To permit a relationship of any nature to gain traction on an unsteady foundation was never a good idea. Easier to go along with, when emotions and hormones had surged to the forefront but ultimately weak and destructive.

“Going through all this though; helped me realize something.” He said thoughtfully, giving my fingers a little squeeze to further elicit attention that was already entirely focused on him. “That maybe… one day when the Institute is gone, and it _may_ be gone soon – fingers crossed – that I might get to just… _be_ someone again, you know? Not have to hide anymore. No more John Doe. And when that happens, when I get to _be_ someone again, maybe then I’ll get to be _something_ to someone else.” His smile widened and his fingers petted the crease just below my shoulder blade. “To have something like you and Hancock got. To be someone’s… best friend and great love. I’d really…” And here he looked so genuinely, completely vulnerable that it sent a real physical twanging to the muscles about my heart. “… _really_ like to find that.”

“I guess… it _is_ a sort of rare thing to find.” I remarked, still honestly perplexed as to how my relationship with Hancock had come about. To be married to someone and truly believe that they will be your one and only; then to lose them and meet someone else with whom you shared an incomparable connection… Clearly this was something with which Deacon had found it impossible to reconcile within his own mind. His right to life had died with Barbara. Until now. Until, having experienced the touch of a woman again; not only in sex but with a comforting, warm embrace, he was reminded of those things that were quite natural to miss.

I gave him a firm look. “And despite what you think, Deacon, you have a right to live your own life. I mean, look at what you pulled off tonight!” I gestured towards the platform; as though he needed clarification as to where he had staged his earlier performance. “You’ve seriously missed your true calling, dude! You _killed_ up there! I wouldn’t be surprised if Hancock tried to hire you to perform here full time.”

Deacon laughed and gave a surprisingly modest looking flick of his head. “Well, maybe when the time is right.” He turned a little; veiled eyes aimed in the direction of Hancock and his rapidly expanding collection of would be admirers. “You know… in all the time I’ve worked undercover in Goodneighbor, I never had so much as a passing conversation with Hancock. Figured he was a smarmy, self-satisfied little prick, you know. But now I’ve had the chance to travel with him, I’ve got to see what the old fella’s actually like.” He turned back towards me, his smile a genuine beaming warmth. “Glad I had the opportunity. He’s a good guy. And getting better all the time, thanks to you.”

I groaned with annoyance, giving Deacon a light smack to the back. “I do wish people would stop saying that all the time.” I grumbled, casting another quick glance towards Hancock. Still waylaid, of course. “He’s properly motivated right now, is all. And that’s down to any number of things. Shaking up his routine a bit. Being out on the road, travelling. Meeting new people…” I twisted again, wondering why, when I wasn’t the least a suspicious person, was I so concerned with the impromptu gathering of estrogen over by the table. “… meeting new people all the while, it seems.”

Deacon, never one to be amiss of anything, turned and glanced quickly in Hancock’s direction. He gave a light, carefree laugh as he tilted me back into another tight little revolution. “Relax, Cherub. He’s just being polite. Look; see how his feet are facing towards us? Only got his shoulders slightly turned towards them folks. Body language 101.”

I took a closer look; sure enough, Hancock’s feet were indeed pointed in our direction. In fact, most of his body was facing our direction. The girls appeared to be putting their very best high heeled foot forward in regards to engaging with him, but it was pretty obvious (at least to astute people like Deacon) that he was simply demonstrating the civility that was to be expected of the town’s mayor during this, a significant time of the year. I thought Pattie might have been a little put out by the attention the women were showing Hancock, but he remained as smiley faced as ever; eyes twinkling from beneath his Elf-donned fedora with ever constant amusement. I guess this sort of thing wasn’t news to him in the least. Plus, crumbs from the cake and all that.

“Guess I’m not the only one who thinks he’s a catch and a half.” I stated, smiling as Deacon gave me a dramatic whoosh about which left my toes skidding across the floor. He then pulled us into a dramatically exacted version of a tango; using a salt shaker from one of the tables in place of the traditional rose he might have otherwise pinched between his teeth. I chuckled as he steered me aggressively across the floor; arms thrust out as though we were cleaving our way through an overgrown copse of trees. We dodged about Kent and Magnolia; Deacon using the course redirection to return the salt shaker to the table from which he’d stolen it. There were people there who looked in need of it and the slightest bit irked that it had been yanked away for such a silly purpose.

“Let’s just say you’re both catches, my dear Cherub.” Deacon stated cheerfully, guiding me into another near dip and then twisting off to careen a violent route back across the floor. “And I feel it safe to say, at least to your discerning ears, that I have made very good friends on this journey. Least of all you, yourself.”

He stopped spinning me about all over the place and instead slowed the movement of our feet to the degree that we were barely moving at all. He stared down at me with just the slightest, softest smile on his face. I remained dizzy from the sudden cessation of our rhythm but more the baffled as to why he had brought us up short. I stared at him expectantly; waiting for my brain to quit sloshing about in its own cerebral fluid.

“I love you, you know?” He said and so earnestly it was without question one of very few statements he had ever made that I took for exactly what it was. I blinked back at him, felt my bottom lip drop. I stuttered; which is a terribly rude thing to do when someone confesses their feelings for you, I’m sure but Deacon merely laughed in response.

“Geez, Cherub, you don’t have to look so terrified!” He exclaimed, petting his hand gently along the line of my back. “I ain’t talkin’ about the romantic sorta love. Not that I wouldn’t bang a ring on you given half a chance but I fear my reasons for doing so would be primarily selfish ones! I just… I love you. I’m glad I got the chance to get to know you, to come along on this crazy ass adventure of yours. And more important than all of that; I _trust_ you.”

As though requiring more evidence to reinforce his statement, Deacon guided the hand that he held between his own, down to his midsection; just a hairs breadth above his groin. I started to feel uncomfortable but he went no further than this. He pressed my hand tight to the fabric of his little maids’ uniform, then pressed harder still so that I could feel something risen and rigid beneath the material. I used my fingertips to trace it and gasped; tears flooding my eyes when I recognized that all too familiar and most evil of inscriptions. The bulls head… the snake devouring its own tail…

“Oh, Deacon…”

He nodded slightly, still smiling as he brought my hand up and gave it another squeeze. “Hancock said he… he’s got one too. That he told _you_ about it but hides it from most other folk. It’s a sign that they… that they _messed_ with ya, I guess. That in their own twisted minds, they own you.” He tilted his head back, took a watery sigh. “Can’t help but feel pathetic… I know it sounds sexist and all but she… she was a _woman.”_

“ _I’m_ a woman.” I reminded him, tightening the muscles in my arms and then pulling down hard on his arm, forcing it to lower as he in turn tried to resist. He wasn’t very successful. “Doesn’t mean shit in some cases, Deacon. I’m pretty strong and _she_ was pretty strong. And I wager whatever situation you were in, that you weren’t given a great deal of wriggle room. You’re not pathetic. No one this shit happens to is pathetic. I mean, look what happened to poor John in _Cragenshore._ Think he didn’t put up the fight of his life?”

“Still hard to grind along with.” Deacon stated, his smile trembling ever so slightly. My heart hurt for him, so I reached up and set a kiss against his stubbled cheek. I was hardly surprised when he turned and caught my lips with his own. It was a strange kiss in some ways; perhaps the strangest I had ever experienced. Because all in all, it felt so natural. It wasn’t a passionate love, such as I felt with Hancock but the love shared between two people who had gone through so much together. A love of true friends. Gaining Deacon’s trust was nothing short of a monumental feat, so I understood all too well what this admission meant to him. How genuinely he must have felt for me. How much _respect_ he had; not just for myself but for Hancock too.

 “Hey, whoa. You two might want to come up for air at some point.”

Speak of the devil. Deacon and I broke from our kiss and turned to see Hancock standing no less than a few feet away. Arms crossed but face relaxed and somewhat amused. There really _was_ no threatening this guy, was there?

“Cheatin’ on me after less than a day of bein’ official, Munch? Guess I underestimated just how quickly I can put a woman off.”

“Well, you did take all of your clothes off in front of her. Ain’t rocket science, really.” Deacon remarked, whipping his hands off of me and sashaying towards Hancock with more confidence than any man ought to have possessed after being caught lip locking his missus. “Now, now, don’t make that face. I’m just doing my bit to spread the Christmas cheer about. And you, my dear Mayor Hancock, are no exception.”

And then, to my utmost shock and (quite honest) delight, Deacon did no other than wrap his arms tightly about Hancock’s upper body, tilt him backward and kiss him in the manner of two lovers parting ways at the train station. I let out a little squeal of surprise and then cracked my fist in the air and whooped; wishing I had a camera so as to capture the moment. Hancock’s expression sold it all the more; for he didn’t look at all surprised. Just… begrudgingly compliant really. Didn’t play into it, or struggle to be free. Just let Deacon have his wicked way, with eyes only slightly flinched shut and hand pressed to his hat to prevent it from dropping clean off of his head. This wasn’t of course the first time he’d ever been kissed by a man, I’m sure. And given some of the things he’s had to do with them, I doubt that a smooch would phase him much.

After twisting his mouth from side to side and all around as obnoxiously as possible, Deacon released Hancock’s lips with a noise not unlike a drain pipe coming unclogged and pulled him back into a standing position. Naturally, half the bar was now on their feet; laughing and cajoling, fingers jammed between lips so as to deliver high pitched wolf whistles of encouragement. (Okay, I was one of them). As Hancock took out his handkerchief and daintily dabbed at the shiny spots of saliva on each side of his lips, Deacon threw out his arm in dramatic fashion, dropping his weight onto one hip as he did so.

“Alas, my adoring public but I must away to greener pastures! Or at least, to the chargrilled meat and flavoursome mesquite of the BBQ that is but awaiting my humble presence.” He turned and danced his way over to the stairwell, turning and blowing a kiss over his shoulder that he then pretended to spread about the entire occupants of the bar. “And to all, _a good night_!”

He slipped away to thunderous applause and I, chuckling my own soft amusement, approached Hancock and tenderly rubbed his upper arm.

“He didn’t hurt your back when he did that, did he?”

“My backs the last thing I’m worried about him hurting.” Hancock remarked, though he still failed to look anything other than amused as he finished wiping off his mouth. “I don’t think it was strictly necessary for him to use that much tongue. Slobbery bloody prick.” He felt about the inside of his mouth with his pinkie finger. “Think he made off with one of my fillings, too…”

“Well, it’s your own fault for opening your mouth!” I exclaimed, laughing as he refolded his handkerchief and tucked it back into his vest pocket. I half expected him to march it over to the bar and demand that Charlie burn it.

“True enough. Anyway, I’m gonna get back to the table and gargle with some more of my drink. That should burn out any of the contagions he might have been carrying.” He gestured lightly with his head. “Ready to park your dogs?”

I was more than ready to have a sit down, given how Deacon had all but run me off of my feet but I fought the impulse back. I’d just noticed Xavier perched up at the bar; head slumped low over his own drink and shoulders curled in as though he were hunkering in a trench under cannon fire. What with all the excitement the day had brought, I’d only gone and forgotten that I’d promised to have a bevvy with the poor guy. And I felt terrible for being so remiss of it.

“Just give me a minute.” I requested, gesturing over towards Xavier so that Hancock would understand my meaning. He quirked one of his brows, perhaps a little concerned that I was shirking his company for that of the very man that I had in fact cheated on my husband with. But he was accommodating and trusting, as per usual and simply uttered ‘Yeah, course’, leaning down to plant a kiss against my cheek and a soft pat to my bottom.

I trotted my way over to Xavier, still a little unsteady of my wedged heels and sore legs. The stools on either side of him weren’t free, so I would simply have to suck it up and stand whilst I chatted with him. He looked surprised when I tapped him on the shoulder, staring up at me as though I were some bizarre, alien creature that had just spurted to life from a mid-air vortex.

“Hey. I still owe you that drink.” I reminded him, trying to smile in the face of what looked to be such unfiltered disappointment. I tried to quash back the pervasive feeling of guilt this invoked in me and gestured to the near empty glass he held clenched in fingers that look as unyielding and rigid as those belonging to a statue. “You still a Brandy man?”

He blinked at me torpidly, as though not quite understanding what I was saying before then glancing back the way I had come with a confused expression on his face. I followed the aim of his eyes and saw that they were directed towards where Hancock was perched back down at our table; already politely fending back the advances of some young lady who was wearing what I could only imagine was a stretched out tube sock. Jesus, if I tried to wear something like that, I’d look like a big fat sausage with all the meat getting squeezed out of either end…

“You don’t… you don’t need to worry about that.” He made his best attempt to reassure me, but his tone betrayed his actual feelings on the matter. Two hundred years hadn’t had much impact on Xavier’s propensity to sulk like a little boy when it suited him. “You’ve had other things to focus on. I get it. Just… head on back and enjoy your date.”

All the less possible given how goddamn awkward I now felt. Sighing, wondering why I was letting myself be unconsciously guilt tripped into this, I gestured over to Charlie and ordered Xavier another brandy. He gave only the most meagre of protests before I silenced him. When the full glass arrived, he didn’t touch it but continued staring down into his lap, drumming his fingers against the rise of his knee. I thought about ordering myself another glass of wine, so I didn’t feel like such an idiot standing there staring at him but reasoned I still had a near full bottle back at the table. Just so I didn’t feel like too much of a tool, I took my pack of cigarettes from my bag and lit one up. Xavier refused when I offered him one.

“Eve… I know you feel guilty about… about a lot of stuff.” He said suddenly and I felt my face flush with just how on the point he was. I forgot just how well Xavier had known me back in the old world. He knew that I thrived on a diet of regret, quelled as much as possible beneath the soothing tide of alcohol that I liberally poured upon it.

He lifted his eyes finally and focused on me. The pity I saw there, I can’t pretend to know at whom it was directed. Me? Himself? The both of us?

“If you are truly at ease with the choice you have made, then there’s no reason to feel guilty, right?” He said and now I was as equally miffed as I was confused. I reached around him, tapping ash into the glass tray by his elbow before leaning back, crossing one arm tight across my midsection. I sucked in part of my lip, eyeing him cordially.

“Xavier… the fact that you suggest that there _was_ a choice to be made and _then_ to infer that I am ill at ease with the results of said _choice,_ is a little manipulative.” Wow. Hancock’s influence sure as shit had made me bolder this past year. I used to have no such issues saying such things when in the court room but I was always very careful to be mindful of upsetting people in my personal life. What can I say? Hancock may have been a grown man but I was deeply protective of him. Of what it was that we shared. “You’re my _friend._ I’m trying to do the right thing by my _friend_.”

“Your friend.” He repeated, staring down at the last few amber drops that slid about the base of his glass. He didn’t go in for them but simply tilted the glass in the other direction, so that their motion transferred back down the path they had previously carved. “I guess… I guess that should be enough. It should. … I guess.”

Oh _no._ Now I would have to listen to Hancock’s pious little ‘Told you so’s.’ The past year he had done his utmost to try and convince me that Xavier was still sweet on me but I’d refused to so much as consider the possibility. It had been _two hundred YEARS_ , after all! How in the blue hell could you crush on someone so long? Someone with whom you shared no genuine reciprocation of feelings? Never mind someone as plain and questionable as myself. I knew that he was fond of me, but had assumed it was because I was a reminder of the old days; of the world we had left behind. He sensed something familial in me, that he found safe and comforting. I had no idea that this connection had reignited that old spark. It just… it made no sense.

“Xavier…” I said softly, reaching out to… I don’t know, rub his arm or give him a hug or something. But he wouldn’t have a bar of it. He slid up, off of his bar stool and quickly stepped away from me before I could make contact. His brows slanted down and he looked so sad, I thought he may very well have been fighting off tears.

“No… _please._ ” He begged and my heart could have bled for how desperate he sounded. “Please, Eve. Don’t you understand? Your touch.. _._ it’s _poison_. It kills me slowly.”

Hancock’s words all those months back. _Don’t be sweet to others… be wary of touching people. They’re unfamiliar with it. They’ll be drawn to it… they’ll be drawn to_ you…

Oh God. How _ignorant_ could I be? It was just… something I did without thinking. Something I had _always_ done. When I felt bad, I loved a big warm cuddle, or a kiss on the cheek or someone rubbing my hand or shoulder. It was my go to when people around me were feeling bad as well. I’d never been the type of woman who had used touch as a means of flirting. I wasn’t the type to giggle and coyly touch the back of a man’s hand, or reach over and stroke his bicep. That sort of thing had always seemed vapid and insincere to me, somehow. To me, human touch meant a lot more than just giving a person a taste of what you might have to offer.

But Hancock… he’d known better. He knew how powerful touch was in this world. A world where people were so deprived of affection. Of warmth, of _love._ In this world, sentimental, comforting touch was more powerful and resonated far deeper than that of flirtation. Peopled _craved_ it. Like a drug. _Especially_ the Ghoul populace. Perhaps it held greater weight to them than currency itself.

_I just… wanted to… touch you…_

I wondered then if Hancock would have fallen for me so deeply if I hadn’t been so insistent on touching him all the time. Caressing and massaging his hands, rubbing his cream onto his back, kissing his cheek, cuddling him…

 _The first time, in his office, just after I found out that he had killed Bobby No-Nose. He had given me a soft caress to my upper arms, nothing inviting or opportunistic. Everything felt as though it were crashing down inside of me. I_ needed _to feel someone’s arms around me. And in spite of knowing what he had done to Bobby, I was aware still of Hancock’s pure, resonate kindness; a sort of rumbling beneath his presence, like the purring of a contented cat. And like a foolish waif from one of my stupid old dime store novels, I threw my arms around him; sobbed for the state of the world, for what it had done to us all. I’d felt the hesitance ripple through him as though a live wire had been set to his fingertip. And then he had curled about me as naturally as I’m certain he had once, many lifetimes ago, been accustomed to. The urge had returned to him. A new addiction, to compete with those running rife through his body already._

_A craving for my flesh._

Xavier… he must have been no different. To be hugged after two-hundred years. God, how could I be so very, unapologetically _stupid?!_ Was I so caught up in putting myself down, that I missed the very obvious, patented reality of the situation? That the world was in short supply of supposed weirdo’s like me, who went about draping themselves on everyone higgledy-piggledy?

My expression must have conveyed enough hurt for Xavier to want to explain himself; even though I feared I understood far too much already. “Eve… Smooth-skin’s… they don’t go around… touching people like you do. They just… don’t. And I already… you already… _hold_ a place in my heart. Bad enough if you were just some random girl but…” He glanced over again towards Hancock, like a dog expecting a kick at any moment. Hancock wasn’t even looking in our direction and I wondered if this lack of concern was somehow more the irritating to Xavier. That he didn’t warrant the dignity of being considered a ‘threat’ in Hancock’s mind. “… I thought… it’s stupid but I thought that if… Mr Thomson weren’t around that… thing’s might be different. But I can see now I…” He gave a sad smile; lifting his shoulders to form a helpless looking shrug. “I… really shouldn’t have got my hopes up. No one can compete with Hancock when he sets his eyes on what he wants.”

I thought this a rather mean, overly inclusive thing of him to say. “This is hardly a case of ‘Big Bad Mayor gets whatever he wants’, Xavier. I had a say in it too, you know. We travelled together. We fell in love. I _love_ who John Hancock is as a man, not because he’s Goodneighbor’s Mayor or he played any number of tricks on me to have his way.” I took another deep drag on my cigarette; found it useless in stilling the pounding of my heart. I could feel the resonance all the way up in the apex of my throat. “And he loves _me,_ Xavier. It’s just… what happened. And I’m… sorry, if I ever let you think otherwise. Maybe I… I should have been clearer. I don’t know.”

“You didn’t have to be clearer.” Xavier established and I was surprised with the fairness of his statement. He turned once more, directed his gaze at Hancock. Pursed his lips. “He’s… really who you want, then?”

I felt some weight behind his statement; something I couldn’t quite comprehend but something I understand held immeasurable importance for Xavier. All I could do however, was answer honestly because my life was far too often about the considerations of others. And it was high time, I gave myself permission to start being happy again.

“Yes, Xavier.” I said and I fought the urge to go forward and take his hand in mine. If my touch was painful to him, this would hardly serve as a comfort. “I love John very much. He’s a dear, wonderful man.”

“Then… that’s that.” He said, meeting my eyes and doing his utmost to force the corners of his lips up. It was a sad, trembling effort. “It’s okay… I just want you to be happy, Eve. And you will be.” He took up the Brandy I had brought him, drank from it and then made a light, subtle gesture towards me. “Here’s to the happy couple.”

He took another sip before turning and disappearing off through the crowd then; such as he had done all those centuries earlier by the gates of Vault 111. I watched him leave with a mixture of relief and slight trepidation; confused somewhat by the words he had chosen as a parting. He’d said them so bluntly; not a hint so far as I could tell of genuine happiness, of resentment, even. But then I suppose he was playing it stiff upper lip; not wanting to show me his true emotions. I had after all, finally resolved the questions he’d apparently nursed so long about the possibility of us ever being together. God, if only there was a Vault that could send me back in time, so I could stop my stupid ass from kissing him! How much pain could have been avoided, if I hadn’t been so damn caught up in my own misery!

I wended my way back towards mine and Hancock’s table, still musing to myself as I went. He was chatting now with Magnolia and Kent; the little boob tube dress wearing missy having since departed for easier prey. Namely that of Patrick; who didn’t look the least concerned about nibbling from the crumbs fallen astray of Hancock’s metaphorical plate.

I slipped back into my seat with a deep sigh, sucking from my cigarette once more before extinguishing it in the ashtray on the table. Hancock watched me, one brow lifted in a demonstration of concern as I slucked back greedily from my wine; such that I needed to take one mighty gulp of air when I finally resurfaced.

“That well, huh?”

Astute as ever, this man. “Oh God. That poor love. That poor, _poor_ love.” I sank my head down against the table and lightly banged my forehead against it a few times. “I’m such a big, honking dumb-dumb.”

Hancock chuckled lightly; his rough palm grazing over the back of my neck. “Won’t rub salt in the wounds by saying ‘I told you so, Munch’. But I _did_ warn ya the guy was nursin’ a sweet spot. Said as much when I sought him out for a chat this afternoon.”

I glanced up from the table, staring back at Hancock curiously. From the context of Xavier’s conversation with me, it sounded as though he was hearing such particulars of mine and Hancock’s relationship for the first time. Why so particular if he’d already heard it from the other party?

“You actually went and spoke to Xavier about us?”

He shrugged lightly, drawing back on his Scotch and Cola before answering me. “Figured it was the thing needed doing. Talking it out, man to man, you know? He was pretty gracious about it but I figured he’d wanna hear things made concrete. Needed your word on it ta put shit to rest, finally.”

“Oh, congratulations, by the by, Shroud.” Kent took the moment to interject, smiling shyly from behind Magnolia’s shoulder. I nearly reached out to give his wrist a squeeze and then hesitated, remembering just what I had discussed with Xavier. I instead offered up what I hope was a very sincere and grateful smile.

“Thank you, Mr Reinert. The Shroud always appreciates the erstwhile and unerring support of his most faithful friend and retainer.” I said, putting on my very poor approximation of the Silver Shroud’s voice as I swished my hand down through the air to accommodate Kent’s perpetually hunch shouldered visage. He visibly straightened at my words, his smile taking on that special, warm nuance of pure enjoyment he always seemed to feel when we got into our roleplay.

“I hope this doesn’t mean we’re going to see you dressed up as the Mistress of Mystery anytime soon, Hancock.” Magnolia teased, winking one of her thickly lashed eyes at the pair of us. It would be easy to be intimidated by someone like Magnolia; who was not only stunningly beautiful, but someone with whom Hancock had officially shared the longest romantic relationship with. To say nothing of the fact that she was genuinely so affable and courteous in her treatment towards others. Even if she had continued to nurse romantic feelings for Hancock, I felt safe in the knowledge that she wasn’t such a classless person as to act on said urges whilst the two of us were together. And besides… she and Kent were looking rather to the side of cosy at the moment… One could only wonder. … and hope.

“Jesus… can you imagine _me_ wearing a dress with a big old slit up the leg? _Ugh._ ” Hancock murmured, shuddering at the thought before taking another sip of his drink. I made a show of reaching down and giving his thigh a firm caress, all the way up to meet the tight cinch of his sash.

“Oh, don’t be so down on yourself, darling. Thigh high or sky high, I bet you’d be able to pull it off.”

“That’s what people will be screaming for me to do, I ever front up in _that_ frock.” Hancock stated, a good call which earned a laugh from all of us. He drained his glass before climbing back to his feet, dusting off his ass and then reaching down to take my hand. “Now. I hate to be rude but time waits for no man. And if the two of us wanna be putting something in our bellies anytime soon, we need to be cracking on.”

“Of course.” Magnolia said affably, leaning sideways to slide her hand into the crook of Kent’s arm. He got that ‘I would blush if I were physiologically capable of doing so’ expression on his face again; that sort of adorable deer in the headlights impression he was ever so good at. “You two run along and have fun now. After the day we’ve had, I think that Kent and I have earned ourselves a little R and R as well. Wouldn’t you say, honey?”

“Um… it _has_ been a long day.” Kent confirmed, his eyes darting about the room questioningly; as though waiting for someone to jump out from behind one of the cement pylons and scream ‘April Fools!’ He certainly wasn’t the only one to look puzzled by his sudden good fortune in attaining Magnolia’s company; a considerable portion of the Third Rail’s male clientele shared in his bemusement and weren’t concerning themselves with being subtle about it either. They were gesturing, staring, chatting amongst themselves and scratching their heads at the pair of them. I shot one of my very best ‘ _Shame on you’_ glares in their collective directions; staunchly prepared to defend the hell out of Kent. I might have been as intrigued by Magnolia’s attentions as they were but I certainly wasn’t about to go casting a big old gray cloud over the occasion.

Hancock chuckled and set his fingertips to the foremost peak of his tricorner, dipping it downward ever so slightly. “Well, you kids be havin’ a good evening now.” He intoned before, with a flash of smile, he guided me up onto my feet. “Come on. I want ya to at least have a look at the VIP room before we head out. I think you’ll like what I’ve done with the place.”

“I just like that I even get to qualify for VIP status.” I stated, plucking up the ‘Reserved’ sign off of the table and slipping it into my carry bag. I didn’t want folks thinking they couldn’t sit at the table now that we had chosen to vacate it. “Only time I ever made it into the VIP room in the past was the bounce some idiot who upchucked all over the girl he was getting a lap dance from.”

Hancock chuckled, giving a small shake of his head. “You really gotta tell me more about that job of yours, Munch. Why you’d wanna be a lawyer after working at a place like that beats me.”

“Living the dream.” I said, smirking as I quickly scooped up my bottle of wine from the tin chiller in which it was resting and slipping that into my bag as well. God forbid I leave more than half a bottle behind; the waste of the thing! I plucked up my glass, Hancock hanging patiently onto my hand as I pulled against him like a little kid fighting against going inside after recess. Certain I had everything set to rights, I scooted out from my seat and allowed Hancock to guide me along like a happy little kite tail towards the VIP room. Pattie sighed, loudly and audibly as he reluctantly detached himself from his conversation with the two barely clothed dames he’d been entertaining and stomped along in our wake. Looks like I wasn’t the only one who knew how to behave like a petulant toddler when it suited me.

The VIP room’s door was shut and fringed by flashing lights. Surmounted by the blazing red VIP sign, I couldn’t decide whether the overall effect was charming or gaudy as fuck. I mean, they could get away with it at Christmas time, but all year round? Maybe Hancock had been hanging around the New Vegas bunch for too long. Big spangly lights seemed to be their thing after all.

The door now had a number pad set in the wall beside it; actually, requiring some verification in opening the room and thus officially rendering it VIP accessible only. I found this a little ironic; given Hancock’s previous stalwart insistence on equality and availability for all. Perhaps I pulled a face, or Hancock knew me well enough to have an idea as to what I was thinking because he turned to me then and lifted the corner of his mouth in a cautionary smile.

“It’s only ever locked up for special events, or when someone’s booked the room. Like I have tonight.” He explained, quickly punching in a five-number code with such fluidity that I wasn’t able to make out a single digit. “Number pad’s reset after each use and the folks using the room get a new number assigned to them for the night they have it booked. Ensures a bit of privacy and safety, ya know? Otherwise, we just leave the door open and let folks come and go as they wish.”

“Ah.” I stated, taking a sip from my wine as the oval shaped door broke open with a loud ‘Pssht’ of extinguished air. “I was going to say. I hadn’t expected Mayor ‘Everyone is Welcome’ to start being so elitist in his approach.”

“In case shit weren’t obvious Munch, times are a changing.” Hancock said lightly, though his tone suggested I had best remember ‘why’ such precautions were now in place. Our big old serious talks back in the day about Goodneighbor’s lack of civilian filtration… how he now wanted it to be a place where families could safely and comfortably settle down. To be a viable option in a barren Wasteland in which there were so few places for one to feel safe and protected.

Hancock turned and flicked a finger at Pattie; gesturing to the shadow shrouded wall beside the VIP room door. The signal couldn’t be any clearer so far as I was concerned, but Hancock wasn’t the kind of rude prick to act a dismissive cunt to his employees.

“Wait outside would ya, brother? Won’t be long.”

Pattie tilted his head back and ejected another teenage-esque groan towards the ceiling. A man truly circumventing the depths of woe and boredom. “Oh, that’s right. Us lowly Neighborhood Watch _plebes_ clearly aren’t VIP material.”

Hancock shrugged, apparently not at all concerned with assuaging his operatives’ feelings. “Three’s a crowd, buddy.” He said, lifting my hand and guiding me in and over the lip of the door jam. When he was satisfied I had made the transition safely, he stepped into the room behind me and pulled the door shut in our wake. The small hallway ahead of us was similarly lined with red lights but it was a little darker here at the entryway; where the main lighting didn’t quite spill over into.

My heart gave a few little kicks; like a frightened bunny taking off at the snapping of a branch in the noonday woods. I wondered if this was where Hancock intended to make his move. Here in the cover of shadows; with the red of the lights flushing the curves of our faces with an otherworldly glow. We were locked in now; coveted from the eyes and attentions and others. He’d said to Pattie that we wouldn’t be long but… well, perhaps Hancock didn’t think it would take very long at all. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman, after all…

But Hancock surprised me, in that he didn’t turn suddenly, grab my hips and slam me against the wall with the passion of a deprived Italian sailor. Instead, he released my hand and used his own to gesture at me to remain behind him. His fingers slipped around to the small of his back and further still; retrieving his knife from the leather sheathe he wore clipped to the hem of his trousers.

So, in spite of his assurances that only the persons assessing the room were informed of the code, he still wasn’t taking any chances. Smart boy. I mirrored his caution by removing the magnum from my carry bag. I didn’t pull back on the safety yet; better to know I would need to do some shooting before going that far. And I kept behind Hancock, close to his six as he edged up on the hall corner and, after sliding his hat off of his head, slowly easing his face around just enough to scope the room.

He glanced about for a few moments before suddenly darting forward and disappearing from my view. With a concerned squeak, I toddled along precariously in his wake; attempting to keep my balance less I fall right on off of my wedges and break my face on the floor.

Hancock shot in, reckless as ever and slid in behind the bar; nearly taking out the Protectron bot I saw standing there. I just about clunked that safety on and opened fire on the damn thing but Hancock bounced back into view just in time and gestured for me to calm down; slipping his hat back onto his head.

“Nah, nah. All good, he’s supposed to be here.” He explained, limping his way back towards me. Taking off on his bung leg like that must have caused it to act up again; silly boy. He slipped the knife back into its sheathe, before gesturing prolifically about the room; like an Arabian Prince showing off his plentiful bounty to some wide eyed European politician. “So… what be your thinkin’, Munch?”

I hadn’t had opportunity to do much in the way of thinking, so I took the chance now and gazed about the room; slipping my handgun back in around the still condensation slick wine bottle nestled in the depths of my bag.

Black wallpaper, detailed with gold branch like tendrils graced the left-hand wall; whilst its adjacent twin was interspersed with angled rectangular mirrors and strobes of glowing blue glass tubes. The ceiling had been plastered over and painted a beige color; with another larger pane of reflective glass serving as a feature piece directly in its centre. The furniture had been both rearranged and added to; with a number of small tables set between red leather settee’s and love seats which had been strewn about the room; creating a look not dissimilar to what I imagine you would see in some hoity toity gentleman’s club. Or a Swinger’s lounge, I’m not sure. Never been invited to either, sadly.

There was a large pool table in the middle of the room and, as mentioned previously, a bar on the far-left hand side of the room; that had not been there on previous visits. It looked as though it were made from black marble; though I can’t imagine how this would have been at all possible, given the resource limitations of the Post-Apocalyptic world. Hancock and his crew must have fashioned up some very lifelike imitation; most likely from glass, I imagined. Either that or they scrounged it from some abandoned locale out in the wider Boston area and lugged it all the way back here at their leisure. Geez… other option was a little inspiring.

Music played softly from a jukebox by the bar and wall mounted lights, which looked a little out of place with some of the modern touches, added a dusky ambience that I couldn’t deny felt a little sexy. It was clear that Hancock had added his own touches here and there, with bunches of Fever blossoms found on a few of the tables and on the bar itself. The ceiling itself continued the running theme of white string fairy lights (many of which I suspect had been appropriated from Diamond City). Yep. Hancock had definitely been taking tips from the New Vegas boys. I couldn’t deny it was a vast improvement, however. Compared to the hollow, steel hole in the wall it used to be; this was positively luxurious. And it was plain to see, from the nearly anxious look on Hancock’s face, that he was angling for my approval. Which I gave of course; turning and flashing a big old smile in his direction.

“Wow… this actually looks worthy of being called a VIP room now.”

He bowed his head some; Hancock’s typical manly way of conveying his relief and returned my smile as he stepped back to my side. He slid in behind me, twining his hands slowly about my waist. My chest tightened; heart seizing a little as his lips found the side of my neck and ever so gently, pressed a kiss against my pulse point. _Uff da… here we go…_

“Meaghan put a lot of work into the redesign. Now folks can hire it out for parties, birthday events, that sort of thing.” He brushed some of my hair to the side to clear the line to my nape, trailing his lips ever so lightly over the bristles here and sending shivers ricocheting down into my cramped up little tootsies. “Had an 18th here not too long ago.”

I almost chuckled, though it was a rather pitiful effort what with the effect his kisses were having on me. “And _you_ were invited?” I managed to tease, all the while tilting my head back so as to further encourage the trajectory of his lips. I wanted them up under my ear; my favorite little spot to be kissed. (Well, so far as my neck was concerned). Hancock snickered as he once more managed to magically interpret just what it was I wanted and leaned about just enough to press a kiss directly behind the shell of my ear. He slid his tongue gently into the hallowed ridge and I closed my eyes; a traitorous little moan lilting up out of the depths of me.

“Please. Who wants to be that creepy old man who still thinks he can kick it with the kiddies?” He murmured, his fingers cupping my hips firmly to each side and squeezing. “Not to mention I was so depressed about you, I probably woulda just gotten drunk and wept in the corner.”

“Which isn’t entirely out of place for an 18th birthday party, when you think about it.” I said, all the more distracted to feel the movements of his hands as they trailed around to slip under the gaping hem of my shirt. They were warm and a little clammy against my already sweaty flesh. He didn’t lift them any higher in an attempt to clutch or squeeze my breasts but continued their loving, gentle attentions to the skin of my belly. His mouth was more the treacherous however; bringing the lobe of my ear back to suck and nibble between his teeth. I sighed softly, pressing back to the warmth of his body; felt the anxiety leach out of me. “It looks amazing. Everyone’s done a… great job.” I managed to point one shaky finger towards the Protectron. “You’ve got a… Protectron tending bar?”

“Seemed nicer than just locking a person in here, on the off chance that someone comes in to use the room.” Without taking his mouth off of my neck, he gestured distractedly in the Protectron’s direction. “His name’s Jeremy.”

I scoffed a laugh. “ _Jeremy?!”_

“That’s what he said. Who was I to poke fun?”

“Where did he come from?” I asked and the line of question I think was enough to quell Hancock’s passions for the time being. He released my neck with a slightly irritated sigh, bringing his arm up to drape casually about my shoulder; like I was a buddy he might have been sharing drinks with after a long day on the grind.

“One of the stall folk from New Vegas way. Said he was defective. Been shut down for some time. But Rufus got him working again.”

The song that had been playing on the Jukebox faded out and invited through, in its stead, the familiar plucking cords of _Ac-cent-Tchu-ate the Positive_. I grabbed Hancock’s hand excitedly; near crushing his fingers with the force of my enthusiasm.

“John, well I never! Our song!” I exclaimed, beaming up into Hancock’s expectedly amused (and slightly smug looking) expression. I cocked my brow at him; a little suspicious that he wasn’t nearly as surprised as I was. “Did you… somehow arrange for this to be playing when we got in here?”

Hancock chuckled, closing that last tiny iota of space to whisper into my ear. “It’s a Holotape. Had it play like… every third song.” He pressed a quick, firm kiss to the side of my chin. “Wanted to make sure you and I got a chance to have dance to it tonight.”

“Well, look at you. The old sentimentalist.” I said, smirking as I cupped the side of his face and stroked my fingers down through the deep furrows there. He leaned into my touch; taking my hand in his own as his cheek pressed the tighter to my palm. He looked like a perfectly pampered cat; curling its spine under the affectionate caress of its master.

“Hey, everyone’s entitled to a bit of softness.” He said, shrugging as he dropped a quick peck against my fingertips. “For me; it’s everything below the eyebrows.”

I cocked my brow at him; that apparently wonderfully sardonic expression that Deacon professed to being so fond of. “Are you trying to say that you’re hard headed? Or that you’re squishy all the way down?” I drew my lips close to his own; meaning to tease and perhaps flirt as much as little old me was capable of. “ _Because I think we both know that’s just not true…”_

He laughed, entirely unabashed as he took the hand I had pressed to his cheek and laid it instead against the left-hand side of his chest. I felt his heart; its usual, steady, reassuring thud resonate from the deep cavity of his chest. “Means I’m soft _here._ ” He murmured, pointing to his temple with the index finger of his free hand. “Even when I gotta be hard up _here_.”

“Truer words have never been spoken.” I said, scrunching my fist about the crumpled peaks of his shirt, leaning close to press my forehead to his cheek. The heavy smoky scent of scotch brushed over me; tiptoed down through my nasal cavities and strummed the pleasure based cords of my brain. “I’m… honoured I get to _see_ that side of you, ya know? I know most folks get to see what a good guy you are… I just feel like I get to see something a little different.”

“You do.” He conceded, rubbing one of his rough thumbs across the peaked carotid artery in my neck. (Perhaps he remembered my earlier concerns with him smearing my makeup). “No one else’ll ever get to see the me I am when I’m with you.” He smiled, the corners of his lips conveying mischief to be had as he plucked my wine glass from my hands with the skill and proficiency of a street Gypsy and swept it away to perch safely within the inside border of the pool table. He extended his hand to me once more; the other pressed flat to the sway of his spine as he gave a purposefully humorous and yet entirely heartfelt little bow. “May I have this dance, Ms Hallows?”

Only momentarily aggrieved by the parting of my wine, I managed to nonetheless marshal my courage and slip my fingers into the safe sanctuary of Hancock’s waiting grasp.

“You may, Mr Mayor.” I murmured, wondering if I had ever before in my time seen a smile as perfectly transformative in its radiant happiness as was his. In that very moment, I could see all too well just what John McDonough had looked like all those years before the radiation had rent and corroded his flesh. And damned if I didn’t think him the more handsome for the man he was now. Every tear, divot and pit in his flesh was all the more part of the face that rendered me such unimpeachable security. What a truly remarkable man. How courageous in his acclimatization to what most would consider to be an excusable condition to explain away weakness of character. How genuinely soft and loving in his soul; to cry still for those people he felt incapable of having protected all those years ago. How gentle his eyes, his voice, his hands. Those hands that could so easily kill, could in turn transform a destitute town and turn it into the budding first bloom of a better world. Not just a dank hole in the wall to where the rats could flee when the ship began to sink but a true destination of veritable comfort and fortune.

It was an extraordinary feeling; to be so proud of someone with who you were completely in love with. I had felt this way with Nate, though he had coped poorly with the tragic twists and turns that life had thrown at us. I could not and would not have ever blamed him for this. I was no better. John was exemplary. I felt resplendent in his presence; as though his glow had bolstered to great heights some meagre flickering spark inside of me. Something that could not and would not have been possible to nurture, had it not been for him.

I felt awash with emotion as he pulled me close; hands pressed to my body in such a way that left Deacon’s wanting. It was peppy song, so it wasn’t as though we could go too hard and heavy with it; nor get too soppy and sentimental. Like the pair of fools we were; we grinned, sung along and swayed away to the beat. He had his hand on my bottom this time; near the top mind. Sort of no-man’s land between ass and lower back but I couldn’t say I at all minded. It felt so natural with him. Our faces were very close together and we smiled as we turned slowly together; just sort of admiring one another during the instrumental moments of the song.

“You look so beautiful tonight.” He said, out of the blue so far as I was concerned. And then he scoffed; his expression suggesting he might just very well have been irritated with what I thought had been very lovely words. “Well… _more_ beautiful than usual, that is.”

I chuckled to myself; once more wondering whether blind infatuation had simply given him rose tinted glasses when it came to me. “I’m not _beautiful_ , darl. Just… scrub up all right, is all”.

But he was insistent and as stubborn as I had always known him to be. John Hancock was, of course, a gentleman who knew his own mind far too well to be convinced otherwise. “Seen you without a stitch of makeup on before, Munch. Seen you exhausted, angry, messed up, beaten up and beaten down. You were beautiful all those times too.” The hand that was on my bottom drifted up to caress the deep sway of my back; somehow more sensuous in this act than it had been in rubbing my bum. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.”

Oh boy. This is what one referred to as a ‘Major Blush moment’. One of those times you couldn’t help but feel your skin heat up; in spite of your best attempts to stamp it the fuck out. All the worst because I had enough experience with men to know full well when one was putting on some phony pretence. Hancock wasn’t. He was saying _exactly_ what he thought. It was sweet. It was beautiful. It was _baffling._

“Geez… You’re just coming right on out with it all now, aren’t you?” I said, wondering even as I tried to hide my face why I was the least concerned with him catching me out in a blush. He knew that I loved him; that I desired him. I wasn’t trying to hide my feelings away anymore; nor censor them for fear of equally romantic reprisal. Force of habit, I could only suppose. So long spent waylaying the inevitable.

“You know how I feel, love.” He said, echoing my sentiments exactly and with a tone that said one hundred percent that he was done bandying about the bullshit. “I ain’t bothered with censoring it anymore.”

My eyes blurred over and I smiled shyly into the wall of his chest. “Thankyou… I… I don’t know how much I believe it but I love that you see me that way.”

He leaned in, kissing me slowly and sensually on the mouth. Our tongues brushed and dabbed in the parting of our lips. His fingers caressed along the ridge of my own; slowed suddenly and then lingered over the now naked band of skin that had until recently been encircled by my wedding band. Hancock pulled free from our kiss, turned and stared curiously at our entwined hands. He lifted my own, examined it from near every angle available to him.

“You took your wedding ring off.” He concluded, staring at me as though a bouquet of flowers had just erupted from the crown of my head. Emotion burbled up in the root of my throat, such that I felt truly incapable of forming words around it. I nodded instead, blinking back tears, stroking his fingers with my own. Knowing what this gesture would have meant to him.

Hancock’s lips pressed tight together, the corners dropping ever so slightly in that ‘I’d have a bitty sook if I wasn’t such a big tough man’ expression he was ever so partial to. He dropped his head as a means to keep me from witnessing it, staring instead at my hand; rubbing his thumb and index finger along my own.

“You didn’t have to do that, Eve.” He said softly, emotion threaded deeply through the timbre of his voice. In spite of his genuine, yet meagre protest, I knew that he was touched by the gesture.

“Yes, I did.” I gently contradicted, sliding my hand out from within his own and pressing it to his battered cheek. His eyes closed as I pressed a tender kiss to his mouth. “I’m not a married woman anymore, John. I want to start fresh with you.”

He gave the softest sounding little chuckle; almost inadmissible beneath the quivery breath from which it imparted. I felt the light press of his nasal cavity as it traced about the bridge of my own nose. The hand that had, until now, been resting against my bottom, traced the long line up my back to tangle in my hair. His grateful kiss found its place between my eyes.

“Heh… rare day indeed when I don’t got no words.” He said self-mockingly and we both laughed a little; for it was quite true that John Hancock was a man whom words did not often fail. “Just… so long as this is what makes you happy, darlin’. Don’t want you rushin’ no nonsense just cause you think ya gotta do certain stuff by me.”

I dropped my hand and clouted his little ass for this one. “Ain’t doin’ nothing just to do the supposed ‘right thing’ by you, Mr John Hancock. I feel ready, now. This is just the next step.” I kept my hand where it was, sliding it down firmly over the curve of his bottom; watched his head loll back as might a cat when stretching up for a more invested rub to the back of its neck. “About time we had some happiness in our lives, John. All things considered.”

He laughed with sudden abrupt and almost startling abandon; turning me about so that my feet damn near left the floor. Silly bastard would go and throw his hip out again, he wasn’t careful!

“Happiness! Baby girl, I got _you_. Everything else is just… details and drug paraphernalia.” He paused a moments consideration before then flashing me a knowing look, coupled with a sly little wink. “Though, there IS one thing that would make it better…”

“Uh-huh.” I said, lifting my brows in amusement. “And it’s a little hard to do while we’re dancing.”

Hancock laughed, bringing one arm up to cup around my shoulders and crunch me in close to his side. “Nearly on the mark there, Munch. But not quite.” He cupped his free hand about his mouth and called over to the, until now, quietly observing Protectron unit. “Hey, Jeremy! Dish ‘em up!”

The shiny bot went into an immediate flurry at Hancock’s summons; flinging bottles down from the shelves at its back with overzealous aplomb and directing their contents into two small shotglasses with a delicate finesse I couldn’t have imagined a Protectron’s ancient joints to have ever possessed. When the liquid had filled the glass to roughly the three-quarter mark, ‘Jeremy’ returned the liquor bottles to the shelf behind him before then ducking down and popping open a small concealed refrigerator at his ‘feet’. He withdrew what appeared to be a small Brahmin artificial insemination device and used it to pump, what I hope, was two identical swirls of cream atop each shot. Hancock lead me over to the bar by my shoulder, knocking back one of the stools and holding my hand so as to assist me with easing my big clumsy body up atop it. He took a seat beside me, spinning gaily about in a circle; a big, boyish smile smeared upon his features like whatever condiment might have adorned his morning piece of toast. Here was a man who was, and unapologetically so, as pleased as punch with life. It was lovely to see him so.

“Your drinks, Mayor Hancock.” Jeremy atoned, pushing our shot glasses carefully across the bar to us with his circular three-pronged arms. “ _Please assume the position_.”

Fortunately, I hadn’t any liquid in my mouth at that moment to snort out through my nose. A rare occurrence indeed; for me to be in a bar with a dry mouth but an irregularity I was exceedingly grateful for at that very moment.

“Wait- the fuck did he just say?”

“It’s some sort of glitch in his programming. Or so I choose to believe.” Hancock said, unconcerned as he slid his fingertip over the pointed peak of cream adorning his drink and popped it neatly between his lips. “Some old plug-in that got transferred over into his internal hard drive or something.” He licked his fingertip clean before absently wiping the saliva slickened digit against the corner of his vest. “Probably a sex-bot program, given the content.”

“Huh.” I grunted, keeping a watchful eye on Jeremy as I attempted to, without being too obvious about it, edge my stool out of grabbing distance. I can’t profess to have _had_ any experience with Sex-bots but I had heard mention that such a thing existed as an offbeat (no pun intended) fetish in this time. “What exactly _is_ the position?”

“I’m not sure but I can only hope I never accidentally assume it. Now.” He said, clapping his hands together before then gesturing towards the shots, palms facing towards the ceiling. “You’ll remember _these_ I presume?”

I chuckled, leaning over to give his knee a little rub. “Well, of _course_ I do! A girl doesn’t go and forget her first Blow Job so easily.”

“Especially when she’s doing them with a Ghoul in Diamond City.” Hancock said, winking slyly as I naturally devolved into the equivalent of a snorting Walrus.

“Oh my God… I can _still_ remember the look on McDonough’s face! I think he thought that you’d really- that you’d-” The giggles got the better of me and so I had to surrender whatever hopes I’d had of finishing the sentence and just give into the hysteria. But what a night it had been! Hopped up on too much alcohol and self-righteous indignation; we had, through a series of Hardy Boys esque foibles, managed to infiltrate McDonough’s office, so as to retrieve an old photograph of Hancock’s family. A rare one, he had informed us; showing his father when he had still been alive. One that had enormous personal value attached to it and as such, belonged to someone with whom emotion did not exist as an element as foreign as the Star of Sirius.

Against all odds we had succeeded in our mischievous venture (me down one dry sock) and decided to celebrate by slaying ourselves a couple of shots. Vadim had insisted on being involved, of course and so whipped up the aforementioned ‘Blow Job’ shots; no small feat, given that the traditional ingredients of Irish Cream, Kahlua and Amaretto weren’t readily available. But where there’s a Vadim, there’s a way. He had, at some point during his time running the Dugout Inn, created bootleg versions of each of these types of alcohol. Didn’t taste quite the same as I remembered but had been enjoyable nonetheless. Especially when the gathering had insisted that the traditional way to do the shot was for one person to hold the glass in their crotch region, whilst their partner picked it up with their mouth and shot it; keeping their hands behind their back all the while. I had only thought the first part to be true. Bastards were probably just having fun with me. But then of course, McDonough had come a grouching, no doubt having suspected something being amiss (there had been a lot of slip ups during what we thought to have been an otherwise flawless infiltration) only to find me, all but divebombing my face into Hancock’s crotch. Good times.

“Well, you _did_ have cream all over your mouth. And your face just about in my cock.” Hancock remarked, tilting back his head and offloading a happy little sigh towards the ceiling. “Ya can’t _buy_ moments like that, Munch…”

“Bit of a walk down memory lane tonight, isn’t it darling?” I said, quite serious as I picked up the shot and examined the careful layering of the three liquors Jeremy had distilled within it. Hancock must have started up his little trade scheme with Vadim; otherwise I can’t see how he would have acquired the stuff at all. “Back to the Third Rail; a drink, _our_ song… now a Blowjob shot.”

“A few _good_ memories, I hope.” Hancock corrected, with an itinerant twist of his lip. “Thought I’d leave out the little douchebags from Diamond City, falling into toilets and Stingwing bites.”

I laughed, dipping my finger in the cream of my own drink and leaning close; drawing a little moustache on Hancock’s upper lip with it. A reference to the story that Deacon had only just finished telling. “Good choice. Let’s stick with good drinks, good times and good feelings. Agreed?”

“Amen, sister.” He concurred, tongue darting out to glance over his upper lip and wipe free the cream clinging to his skin. Having tidied himself up somewhat, ever the gentleman, he then swivelled in his stool, parted his legs and positioned the shot glass directly atop his dick. His eyes sparkled with that hint of allusion; no doubt casting back to our hot and heavy session in his sitting room that afternoon. “Ready to wrap your lips around this?”

“Don’t be vulgar.” I chastised, setting my glass down so I could give him a shove in the shoulder. Not so hard so as to risk pitching him over backwards and caving his head in on the steel floor but firm enough to let him know how filthy I found the gesture. “Just because a lady deigns to have herself a gobble of your lower appendage is no reason to stop treating her like a lady.”

The choice of the word ‘gobble’ naturally got a chuckle out of Hancock and he had to straighten up, or risk tipping the contents of his shot all over the legs of his bar stool. Whilst he recovered, I got myself into position; pinning my hands behind my back and clearing my throat.

“Right. Well. Down the hatch.”

I bent at the waist, brought my mouth down and wrapped it around the shot glass; feeling the tip of the cream smear against the roof of my mouth. I kept my lips firm and reefed back, bringing the glass with me. The creamy contents swooshed down into my mouth; obliterating my senses with delicious sweetness. Damn, that was some good shit. And _definitely_ better than giving an actual blowjob.

“Time for me to return the favor, I suppose.” Hancock said, as I placed the empty glass back on the counter top and quickly retracted my hand as Jeremy swept it up in his metallic claw. I perched back on my bar stool and nestled my own full shot glass into my groin; leaning an elbow on the bar and affecting a cocky pose.

“Fairs fair. And don’t be intimidated just because mines bigger than yours.”

“That’s only because I took the tip off of mine.” Hancock said, sounding almost genuinely offended. I laughed, jabbing my finger down towards the proud and erect adornment of cream atop my beverage.

“Less gabbin’ more deep throatin’, honey.”

I was half tempted to be mean and grab the back of his head and hold him there when he grabbed the glass but I decided to be nice and just let him do the shot normal. Not that there is any normal so far as Hancock is concerned. Guy made a point of pressing his hands against my thighs as a means of balancing himself; taking his time to slowly wrap his lips around the glass and bring it into his mouth. Almost like he was… going down on me. I very nearly went the other extreme and yanked his head back up. Shame he didn’t have any hair to grab a hold of. He eventually conceded to a resurfacing, flinging his head back with all the sexual verve of a pole dancer shaking water out of her hair after a bucket had been dumped from the ceiling all over her barely clad body. He lost his hat in the process, which reminded me in turn about the flower that Hancock had set in my hair. I found it on the floor behind me, clearly thrown free when I had done my own shot and I reaffixed it before handing Hancock back his hat. He was taking an obscenely long time licking out the inside of his glass.

“Damn…” He exclaimed, his eyes taking on a dreamy nuance as he wiped cream from one side of his lips. With all that fussing about down below, he had pretty much gotten it all over himself. Just like my lipstick earlier in the day. “Now _that’s_ the second-best blow job I’ve had today.”

I chuckled, cheeks flushing with heat as I leaned across to wipe cream from the neighbouring side of his mouth. “You’re welcome.”

“Still can’t believe you actually went ahead and did that… not many girls would, you know.”

“That’s certainly the impression that I got.” I said, smiling as I kissed the corner of his mouth. “But you’re worth it.”

“You up for another?”

I purposefully misinterpreted his meaning, gazing around the VIP room as though expecting to see a crowd creeping up on us.

“What? … Right here? In the bar and everything, with _Jeremy_ watching?”

Hancock laughed, holding his empty (and very neatly cleaned) shot glass. “I meant another shot, Munch.”

I gave him a non-amused look all of my very own. “Are you sure you weren’t just being sneaky with another double entendre?”

He waved his hands up on either side of his head in a show of surrender. “Happy accident, I swear.”

I grinned as I pushed his glass back across the bar top. “Why the hell not. They’re light. Won’t do too much damage.” I waved my hand towards Jeremy, who looked to be cleaning off one of the already immaculate counter tops situated just below the drinks shelf. “Hey, Jeremy? Think you can… position another Blow job into this glass?”

“Jeremy aims to please.” The Protectron droned, somehow working in a suggestive inflection that no robot should ever have been capable of. Hancock and I exchanged a look as bottles started whipping about in the background like a high school beauty shows talent division.

“Definitely a sex-bot.”

“Oh, yeah.” I replied, lifting my brows and twisting about just to see where my wine glass had gotten to. Wouldn’t do to let it travel too far in the Third Rail; tarted up or not.

“Might make a good replacement for all those toys you lost when the world went to shit.” Hancock suggested, smiling as his brows danced cheekily about his forehead. I lashed him across the arm, cheeks heating up so as to make him laugh only the harder. Why guys get off on embarrassing their lady folk I’ll never know.

We took our second shot, this one tasting slightly headier than that which preceded it. I returned to my glass of wine and Hancock ordered himself another Scotch and cola. We carried them over to one of the lounges and perched ourselves down; me sliding my legs up over Hancock’s lap and crossing them at the ankle. He seemed all too happy with the arrangement and we spent the next couple of minutes simply enjoying the ambience of the room, the suitable and unobtrusive piping of the music and the sight and feel of one another. We talked; caught each other up on some of the things that had been going on since we had last found ourselves in each other’s company. I told Hancock about the progress at Spectacle Island; the strides Tinker Tom had made with the ‘Molecular Relay’ and the rising up of the newly established township itself. He in turn updated me on a few of the new additions to be found in Goodneighbor. Having established a butcher and a baker (though short one candlestick maker), Hancock had his mind set on a trade in fresh vegetables. Some land had already been claimed further East and live animals and fruit and vegetables were already in the midst of being raised and cultivated. I loved watching the fire light in his eyes as he spoke about his ideas and prospects for the future. It’s always such a jazz to see someone get excited and passionate about the things they were working on. And Hancock seemed so… I don’t know, _alive_ compared to how he had been when I’d first met him. Idly drifting along like a leaf in a puddle. Now, _now_ , he had some purpose. And he was proud of what the town was accomplishing and proud of its advancements and procurements. Proud of its changing reputation and the positive reports he was hearing back from those who were visiting and or working here. He was just rattling off his ideas regarding a schoolhouse and whether he might find a reputable teacher who was prepared to work in Goodneighbor, when his stomach hefted a rather loud and indiscreet growl. We both paused in what we were doing and glanced down at it; as though it were a rude little boy who had come up and started tugging on Hancock’s coat tails.

“Well,” I chuckled, leaning further over his lap to rub a hand across his far too flat belly. “Sounds like someone’s getting a little hungry.”

Hancock smirked. “You got _no_ idea, Munch.” He murmured, slinging back the last of his drink and all but smacking the glass back down on the tabletop. He lifted my legs up and over his head, sliding his way out from underneath them like a limbo dancer. “We really should skedaddle. Before it gets too late.”

“Oh, yeah sure.” I said, holding up the bottle of wine and examining the remaining contents. There was still a quarter remaining; far too much for me to consider just up and abandoning. “I can just put the rest of this in my bag.” I flashed Hancock a sly look as he straightened up his waistcoat. “You wouldn’t have me arrested for having alcohol out on the street, would you?”

“Only if it meant I could handcuff you-” He cut himself off, face flinching in so violently he looked as though someone was ladling bad sauerkraut under his tongue. He turned away, running his hand down over his mouth; fingers tracing each side of his chin. “… Sorry.”

It took me a moment to get where he was coming from but one look at his face was enough to spell it out. Of course. _Marowski._ Marowski and the freakin’ handcuffs he had used that night… Jesus. I know Hancock was trying to be sensitive but there _was_ a limit.

“It’s okay.” I said, smiling as I bounced myself up off of the sofa. I filled my glass up to the ‘safe whilst walking’ margin, slid the bottle neatly into my carry bag and reached for Hancock’s hand with my own. “Don’t worry about censoring yourself for the sake of what that bastard did.”

“I just don’t want to-”

“You won’t.” I said firmly, slipping my fingers down between his own and giving what I hope was a reassuring squeeze. He smiled, leaned in to kiss my temple and then turned to bid Jeremey a fair-the-well as we sauntered for the door. We found Pattie, leaning against the wall just outside, chatting up some unsuspecting waif of a thing. Hancock cuffed him on the back of the head as we passed.

“Pack it up, Pattie.”

“Oh, man.” Pattie sighed, tipping his fedora at the girl he was flirting with. “I’m gonna have to catch ya later, sweetheart. You have yourselves a good time here in Goodneighbor, yeah?”

I was feeling pretty buzzed after my shots and a near half bottle of wine and I’m guessing it showed. There were more than a few amused glances cast in our direction as I pranced ahead of Hancock and Pattie, bouncing up the stairs and singing ‘ _Iko Iko’_ as loudly as I dared (I wasn’t so tipsy I’d forgotten what a god-awful voice I had) and flipping my hands about in the air like I was back at Mardi Gras. I suppose no one expected me to be as buoyant as I was but it had been a damn long time since I had felt so purely blissful. It was as though I’d been given a universal pass to simply take the night off from everything. My anxieties included. Hancock was exceptional when it came to convincing people that they deserved to feel good about themselves. I was pretty stubborn when it came to my responsibilities; it took someone equally as bull-headed to wrench me out of that steel reinforced format and persuade me to chill out.  

Hancock chuckled, using the handrail to support himself up the stairwell as he watched me dance ahead of him. I felt bad for leaving him behind; his leg and hip were still bothering him, of course. And that brace, though providing the additional support the limb required with its healing, was cumbersome. Bad enough when you were dancing, let alone trying to climb two sets of stairs. Hancock would never make a big deal out of it, of course. He wasn’t the type to complain, but I could tell that it annoyed him. In the past, with a few drinks and Chems tucked nicely under his sash, John was the type who would swish and sashay about leisurely; not so much as a care in this far from carefree world. He’d even given a few lap dances here and there (one might be guilty of planting the seed of persuasion in his mind, but that soil was pretty well fertilized anyway).

I knew it bothered him to not be able to move about freely. The look in his eyes, though dark and indistinguishable to others, spoke to me plainly. Like a goofy teenager, all high on first love, he wanted to go swinging and bouncing up those stairs along with me. Twirling around like a pair of big old dorks; flashing wonky smiles, full of way too many teeth.

I ceased my pointless little cabaret performance and trotted back down the stairs, reaching out to take Hancock’s arm and guide him along with me. He yanked it free and, to my questioning expression, petted my backside and leaned in to whisper into my ear.

“Trust me,” He said, with words composed more from the warmth of his breath than from the tender manipulations of his vocal cords. “You dancin’ around like that is more help in getting me up these stairs than holding onto my damn arm.” He grinned and twirled his finger in a circle, indicating I think, that I ought to keep on with what I was doing. With a smile from me (and a not at all unnoticed skyward roll of the eyes and gag from Pattie), I continued sashaying my way up the stairs, Congoing gaily past Ham’s temperately stupefied expression.

 Whilst Hancock traversed the remainder of the stairwell, I quickly ducked into the lavvy; depositing some of the pent up earlier drinks of the evening. Not that all that dancing up the stairwell had done me any good; since my pregnancy my bladder most days felt as though it were coveting a rock collection in its basement. Didn’t take long to evacuate what required evacuation and I cleaned myself up with few nicely embroidered strips of double-ply toilet paper; perhaps the softest thing to have come into contact with my vagina. With the exception of _Cragenshore_ and Meaghan Scalice’s silky yet equally slutty looking underwear.

Imagine my embarrassment when I exited the cubicle to find Hancock waiting for me; leaning up against the sinks and examining his nails idly, as though nothing out of the particular was occurring. I suppose we had shared similar experiences out in the Wasteland but come on dude; this was civilisation! Such as it was…

“Were you standing there listening to me pee?” I retorted, to wit he finally glanced up from his hand and looked about the bathroom with such a deliberately nonchalant expression, I knew quite well he hadn’t at all thought to concern himself with the skirted sign on the doorway. (Did I mention, they had segregated bathrooms in the Third Rail now? Ahoy, progress!) “What? You think an assassin’s gonna be hanging out in one of the three stalls?”

“Happened to me before.” He replied smoothly; words so effective it immediately nullified what little indignation I’d been feeling. “Figure’d you’d prefer that it’d be me waitin’ on ya and not Pattie. Happy to send him along with you next time, you want?”

“I don’t want.” I said, stepping up to the line of sinks and picking one that didn’t have a wet glob of hand towel schlepping about the drain like an itinerant jellyfish. I washed my hands with some pink, oily hand soap; humming ‘happy birthday’ to myself as I rubbed between each finger and up over my nails before rinsing them beneath the tap. Just enough of a burst of water to rid myself of the accumulated bubbles. After drying them off with a couple of paper towels, I reclaimed Hancock’s arm and allowed him to lead me out of the ladies and out the door into the street beyond.

The sky had darkened even further what with the time we had spent inside and was so clear I couldn’t spot the marring of a single cloud. It was still muggy though; inexplicable given the time of year, and I was soon fanning myself with one of the coasters I had nicked from our table. Geez… those assholes who launched those nukes had a hell of a lot to answer for. Decimation of the world was one thing but the penultimate fucking up of our ozone layer was just that one step too far! We ought to have been making snow angels by now; not sweating our cabooses off!

I shelved my internal griping for the moment and gave myself over to an uninhibited appreciation of the newly expanded Eastern Quadrant of Goodneighbor. A small percentage I’d had no choice but to earlier witness but I’d done my utmost to go about my business with a professional, ‘blinkers on’ approach; not wanting Hancock’s opportunity to show off ruined. It was clear he was proud as punch of what he had achieved and I wanted to give him ample opportunity to brag until his big old heart was content.

And what sights there were to be behold! The Christmas tree for one; towering as high as the State House Balcony and adorned with any number of weird and whacky festoons. I could see a collection of bras, condoms (hopefully unused) feather boas, beer bottles and Chems. There were also little slips of paper pinned to some of the branches, which, Hancock had explained the previous year, were little telegraphs that the town Mayor traditionally read out during the Christmas fete event. Ranging from the deeply prophetic and personally poetic to the petty and pedantic alike. I wondered if it wasn’t too late for me to add my own to the tree? Or would that be considered rude; given that I wasn’t of Goodneighbor stock? I’d have to ask John about it later… I didn’t have anything witty I wanted to say but I thought just the same I could contribute something caring and meaningful. … Or I could just write about how smackable Hancock’s cute little butt was. … Yeah, it was probably gonna be that one.

Most of the stalls were still in the midst of setting themselves up; though were still eagerly accepting business when it bumbled on up to them. They proceeded on into the East Quadrant as far as my bleary old eyes could see; ranging in size and proportions and not a single one resembling the next if not for the wheels sectioned to their sides. I felt a little sorry for the proprietors. Hancock had said that a lot of them had only just arrived that day and hadn’t yet a chance to rest up and sleep. Most had attached sleeping quarters to their stalls/wagons and I think members of their crew were alternating nap times. At least… I hope so. I saw far too many bags under glazed, shiny, unfocused eyes; positioned above quivery, unfeeling smiles.

“You’re too sweet.” Hancock murmured, his eyes emanating what I took for admiration as he led me down through the first line of stalls. “But try not to worry your head too much. All tomorrow during the day, the stalls are officially closed so that the proprietors can catch up on some rest and finish their fine tuning. If anyone chooses to accept patronage tonight, it means either they want it or _need_ it. Can’t be denying ‘em that much can we, Munch?”

I smiled, pulling his arm tighter around my shoulder and perching myself up high on the toes of my shoes to plant a kiss to his chin. “Mister Mayor; as usual, you have the right answer for everything.” I gestured at the lights suspended above the street; the very same that the naughty chap himself had been responsible for looming earlier that day. “Darling, everything looks wonderful. Kind of like those stall set ups you always see in Japan. Well least in the books I read about Japan…” I shrugged, sneaking a little sip from the wine bottle in my bag. I was about to slip it away but Hancock appropriated it and snagged a drink for himself. Cheeky bastard.

“D’you visit any of the stalls while you were out and about today?”

“Glanced at a couple as I was coming to and from Meaghan’s. Didn’t wanna spoil any surprises for myself tonight, so I put off checking any of them out.” I snatched the bottle back off of him and took another drink before dropping my head to his shoulder with a likely soppy and simpering little smile. (God, how disgusting we are in love!) “Thought you might be so kind as to show me the ropes.”

He chuckled, glancing about with an expression that suggested he felt the slightest bit ashamed of his bad self. “Heh… to be fair, I’m a bit in the dark about some of ‘em myself. Fahrenheit was handling a lot of the paperwork while I was off… mooching around.” He kissed the shell of my ear, lowering his voice to that dammingly charming and irresistible purr of his. “Missing you.”

I petted a hand against his stomach; thinking once more to myself just how close to concave it was becoming. Few stout hearty meals would fix _that._ “You’re a naughty Mayor. Still, guess we can nut out these bad boys ourselves. Another little adventure.”

“Hopefully more relaxing than our usual run of the mill adventures, Munch.” He laughed, clenching my shoulder tight and pulling me in firm against the line of his body. His lips brushed the bare inch of space on my forehead that my errant bangs had left unprotected. “I’d rather be saving up my adrenaline for later in the evening.”

I elbowed him sharply in the ribs. “Behave.”

“Never.” He leered and there, above our overlapping chuckles, I heard the distinct helpless groan of Pattie impeaching the Heavens.

“Oh god, someone _please kill me._ ” He intoned, earning a decorous and ever so ladylike raspberry from me in response. So, sue me. Kid was getting his ass laid all the time; did he have to go and rain on my little old parade when for the first time in a thousand years I was getting my flirt on? Wasn’t like I got my pubic hair ripped out at the root for nothing, know what I’m saying?

We made our languid way down the line of stalls, checking out what was there to be checked out. Like so many markets I had visited in my misspent youth with Nate, there seemed to be a lot of artsy crafty options at our disposal. Most of which I bypassed with a strained but ever so courteously polite smile; (it’s hard not to resent people who have more talent with pinning fake flowers to dimpled paper than myself) but one I couldn’t resist from slamming the brakes on and taking a good hard look at. They sold, to the exclusion of everything else, hats. _Novelty_ hats.

“Oh my God, check this shit _out!_ ” I yelped, giddy in my excitement as I spun towards Hancock with all the melodrama and not an angstrom of panache possessed by a Vogue runway model. In my excitement at discovering this particular hat, I had forgotten how concerned I was with maintaining the integrity of my hair and had simply jammed the thing on; fashionable waves be damned. The hat was styled to look like a cute cartoon Radstag; whose eight, fluffy legs hung suspended on either side of my face. Their noses were red baubles; a clear reference to the Rudolph of old and their eyes were pinned on white discs, with the black bit that danced about inside to the effect that both dears looked a little daft.   

“It’s hot right?” I queried rhetorically, spinning in a circle and making a big show of plumping up the hat; as though it were an extravagant hairstyle I was showing off to a gathering of sycophant bridesmaids. Of course, I knew I looked a perfect dork but I’d always loved kitsch little things like this. I mean, god damn, if a girl can’t wear herself a silly animal hat every once in a while; she just ain’t living.

Hancock laughed, leaning his elbow on the support beam of the stall and shaking his head at my overenthusiastic display. “If you were wearing just the hat and nothing else, maybe.”

I ignored his innuendo, admiring myself in the small mirror that the proprietor had set on the countertop. “I’ve been looking for my own special hat for ages. I mean, Piper’s got her reporter hat, MacCready’s got his assassin hat, you’ve got a Pirate’s hat-”

“Revolutionary Tricorner.”

“ - and Nick has his detective hat. Now Eve has her very own Radstag hat!” I posed dramatically, fist sequestered to one shoulder and the other thrust out imperiously before me. “Villains of the Commonwealth! Justice cometh! And lo if it not appears donned in the irrepressible and mighty panama of the noble Radstag!”

“You’re an idiot.” Hancock laughed, that self-same expression on his face which suggested I could have danced in front of him wearing a crepe paper and toilet roll composite bearing the vague resemblance of a Unicorn and he would have still found it adorable. But that was to be expected; if his words were to be believed, the man hadn’t had sex in a year. His brain was on auto-pilot until we got ourselves in close conjunction to a set of sheets and a mattress with durable enough bed springs to tolerate a fair to decent jostling.

“I dunno. Think it kinda suits ya, Munch.” Pattie remarked, who (having no vested immediate interest in my drop tank region) was under no obligation to pander to my vanity. “A dorky hat, for a dorky dame. Classic.”

“Says the big dork wearing a leprechaun hat.” I shot back, jiggling the Radstags little legs to straighten it up. “Hey, you bring any gold from your magic pot so I can pay for this bad boy?”

Pattie smirked at me, with such a bitchy nuance I wondered if he’d been taking lessons from Ryan in his spare time. Latent, _much_. “You be pushing it, _Munchkin_.”

I snickered to myself, not at all concerned with his petulant little remarks and started rustling about in my bag for my cap purse. “I am _so_ getting this. The guys’ll get such a kick out of it. That’s if Deacon hasn’t scored one for himself already…”

From the corner of my eye, I could see Hancock’s fingers fly into his waistcoat pocket so quickly they were little more than a blur. Still, that might just have been a combination of my bad eyesight and encroaching tipsiness but the part of me that knew Hancock’s pig-headedness, seriously doubted it.

Sure enough: “S’all right Munch, I’ll grab it for you.”

“No, no, no – it’s okay. I have enough, really. It’s only ten caps.” I was faster than he was (ha, take that _sucker!)_ and managed to flip my caps across the countertop every which way before Hancock could extract so much as an errant ball of lint from his pocket. “Here you go.”

“Thanks very much.” The proprietor said, trying not to look as though he wasn’t annoyed for all the scurrying about he had to do in order to gather up my desperately deposited bottle caps. I did my best to make up for it with a little, not at all undeserved mind you, flattery.

“Did you make all these hats yourself? They’re amazing!” I gushed, picking up another which resembled some extra woolly looking ram. If Deacon hadn’t already gotten his mitts on one of these bad boys already, I _really_ needed to pick one up for him. “I wish I had the talent to pull off something like this.”

“Oh, it’s just a bit of fun.” The proprietor said modestly, tucking his caps away in a locked tin and slipping it back out of sight beneath the countertop. “In a world like ours, I think laughter can be the best medicine of all.”

“A medicine we all certainly don’t get enough of. I think they’re wonderful. The stitching is perfect!” I held the Ram hat up closer to my eyes; squinting as hard as I was able to get a good look at the stitching so as to properly validate my point. Now, I was no expert when it came to sewing but it looked pretty damn sturdy to me. “You must be so patient just to be able to sit down and put all these things together. And dyeing the fabric and all…”

“Thankyou.” The tailor replied, with a genuine, if not slightly sanguine smile. As though he wasn’t quite certain that my praise was authentic. “That’s very kind.”

I suppose because he had gauged my genuine excitement in the stalls merchandise, Hancock at that moment stepped forward and took a quick and (quite honestly) not at all thorough appraisal himself. He offered a satisfied smile and then reached back into his inside vest pocket, extricating a bunch of little slips – similar to what you would see folks getting about with if they were offering up a raffle. He fossicked a pen up out of some other unforeseen crevice and started scribbling something on the topmost ticket.

“You looking to establish any business in town?” He asked the proprietor, eyes focused so intently upon the slip in his hands that he failed to appreciate the earnest expression of anticipation that crossed the other man’s face.

“I’m an offshoot of a clothing franchise in the Midwestern region.” The stall owner conveyed, wringing his hands together and running a tongue quickly across his cracked lower lip. Never a more pertinent expression of longing could be conveyed were it earnestly attempted. “Wouldn’t mind moving out this way and helping to progress things on the East Coast.”

“You’ll be wanting to speak with our town haberdasher, Meaghan Scalice. She owns a shop up in the West Quadrant.” Hancock replied, tearing away the slip and passing it over to the eager beneficiary. “Always looking for a hard worker with steady hands.”

The proprietor was clearly flattered and pleased as punch to be receiving the little slip; he held it clenched tight between his fingers as though it were a monetary cheque to the equivalent sum of a thousand caps. “Well, thankyou Mayor Hancock. Thank you so much!” He gibbered, giving a clumsy doff of his hat that Hancock matched with that expected degree of incomparable decorum he was so renowned for.

“Pleasure. Enjoy your stay in town.” He said, smiling gently as he turned on his heel and took up my hand once more in the rough clasp of his own. He led me away, the hats jolly little legs batting away on either side of my undoubtedly intrigued expression as we went.

“What was that you just gave him?”

Rather than insult me and pretend as though no such transaction had taken place, Hancock merely chuckled and petted a hand to the pocket of his waistcoat. “They’re endorsement slips from the Mayor’s office. I hand them out to folks I feel can be of benefit to the town; allowing them to either seek employment opportunities with pre-existing businesses or to establish a stand-alone business in the township itself.” He smirked down at me; offering up one of his commonplace winks. “Always on the lookout for means in which we can expand.”

“Awesome!” I all but yelled and might have regretted such an outburst for its blatant juvenility if not for how tipsy I was. “You mean that Meaghan’s shop might start selling cool hats from here on out?”

Hancock laughed softly, clutching the side of my head and ducking his lips down to press a kiss to the tip of my nose. “Anything for my Queen.”

Oh wow. Now there’s a title I can’t say I ever expected to be the recipient of. And so corny I could have just about shoved him through one of the stalls we were passing; as punishment for so much as trying it on.

“Oh, go on. I ain’t no ‘effin’ Queen.”

“Not with _that_ crown, you ain’t.” Pattie grumbled from behind us and I turned, offering him up an unsolicited opportunity to inspect the circumference of my middle finger.

“Hey, if I’m King of the Ghouls, then you’re most definitely my Queen, sister.” Hancock stated, undeterred as he guided me back about so that I faced front and centre again. He’d gotten very adept at this during our travels; knowing how easily I found myself to be distracted by… well, damn near everything. Hey, given how much the world had changed in two-hundred years, could I be begrudged my curiosity?

“And what a mighty sovereign I am; in my short shorts and Radstag hat. See how the masses part before me; in awe of my splendour!” I gestured imperiously at the crowd before us, swishing my hand from side to side like some Emperor of the old world blustering about with his rusty rapier. To my absolute and undeniable bemusement, the crowd indeed parted before us; with ease such as Moses had reportedly exhibited with that salacious old dame, the Red Sea. “Ah… you know, that would have been funnier if they just smooshed us all in just then.”

“To be fair, they did see me coming.” Hancock said, smirking and jerking a thumb over his shoulder to the schlepping, bored Watchmen trailing at our bootheels. “And there is a guy walking behind us with a pistol on each hip. And a sour look on his face like he’s just slurped up an off Mirelurk egg.”

“So sue me if watching the two of you old bags get gooey with each other doesn’t lift my skirt.” Pattie jeered, pouted lips hoisted so prominently that they created something of a saddle for his perfect little nose to perch upon. For not the first time that night, I sympathised with the boy for his situation. This really couldn’t be much fun; stomping along behind the two of us and having to listen to all our vapid sweet talk and thinly veiled insinuations. And would it really have made a lick of difference should Marowski or one of the Triggermen station a Sniper on one of the surrounding rooftops? Pattie wasn’t clairvoyant. It wasn’t like he could just Ninja flip his way up into the air, cop the bullet and then knock the assailant off the roof in a blaze of pistol fire. This wasn’t some freakin’ Hollywood movie where folks were simply _that good._ I started thinking maybe we ought to just let the poor guy off of the hook and be on our way. Let him salvage something of an evening for himself.

I was grateful for his presence however, when, not three minutes later, I drifted slightly away from where Hancock was held hostage to a very in-depth conversation with one of the stall owners that I couldn’t pretend to have the least interest in. Something to do with standard spacing regulations about each stall and whether some neighbour might have been violating the rental stipulations, I don’t know. Hancock appeared to be maintaining interest simply because it was expected of him but his eyes had taken on that familiar, uncomprehending sheen which said that his attention was slowly draining away. Fortunately, I had no such obligation to fake interest and slipped from his side not ten seconds into the conversation; to wit he gave me a look that plainly insinuated that I was a traitor. The trying times of a Goodneighbor politician.

I only went so far as the opposite stall, with Pattie hanging back at a distance so as to keep watch over both Hancock and I. The proprietor clearly wasn’t interested in selling anything but gave a friendly smile and a polite ‘Hello’ as she continued offloading boxes and setting things up. I think she might have been in the business of restoring Pre-War trinkets to something of their former glory. My attention was immediately drawn to an exquisitely carved and brightly painted blue and white sailing boat. It bore such an uncanny resemblance to one that my father had kept perched atop the mantle in his home that my chest got to feeling heavy in relatively short order. I asked the proprietor’s permission to pick it up and take a closer look and she indicated that this would be fine.

I carefully eased the boat up off of the wooden stand that its hull had been set inside of. It had a bit of heft to it and the surface had been so meticulously sanded that it felt smooth to the touch. The blue lines on the sails were bright and some of the details so intricate that I could only marvel at the talent of the original designer. There was a tiny cabin, hallowed out with little supplies set in the interior. Small coils of rope, an itty-bitty steering wheel and a life saving ring. Oh _man._ I _so_ wanted this! But I didn’t want to be rude and insist that the proprietor stop what she was doing to conduct a transaction with me. Maybe if I was really sweet and polite, she might put it aside for me so that I could purchase it the following night. If not, knowing my luck, it would get snaffled up the second she opened shop-

A hand cupped the right cheek of my ass; the fingers digging in to the line of flesh where it met up with my thigh. I didn’t think much of it, assuming that it was Hancock perhaps being a little fervent in his attentions and instead grinned, turning about with the boat in my hands to show it to him. But what I saw instead was Pattie; face wrenched with anger as he steered some guy, whom I didn’t know from Adam, back by the wrist. With an almighty shove, he slammed the young chap up against the support beam of the stall to which Hancock was currently held hostage.

“You wanna take a stab at whose ass you just ran your slimy hand over, son?” He hissed, pitching his face so close to the other man’s that their lips were damn near touching. It was only then that I noticed that his remaining hand was clutched tightly about the base of the guys throat; inhibiting his movements further still. Hancock turned, eyes glancing quickly in my direction to ensure that I was okay before narrowing them at Pattie’s hostage with intense dislike.

“The fucks your beef, ma-” Was the little he had in the way of airing his defence before Pattie cut it short by yanking out his right-hand pistol and snapping back the safety. He shoved the barrel against the man’s cheek; who yelped and arched to the tips of his toes as though this tiny, discernible distance would help prevent his face from being blown all over the surrounding stalls.

“My _beef?!_ My fuckin’ _beef_ is you just gone and touched up our goddamn _Queen!_ ” Pattie bellowed and it was his use of the word that actually embarrassed me more than it had with Hancock earlier. To say nothing of the seemingly genuine anger that my being groped on the ass had evoked in him. As though an insult to me (as such) was an insult to all of Goodneighbor. He pushed the point further; shoving the other man into the stall beam so hard that they entire thing rocked back on its wheels. “ _NO ONE TOUCHES OUR FUCKING QUEEN, YOU HEAR ME BOY_?!!”

“Oh geez… when did this become an actual thing?” I murmured, setting the little boat back down as Hancock crossed the thoroughfare to settle at my side. I couldn’t tell whether he was more amused or pissed off. I think he was trying to be both and the result the adverse expressions formed on his face were unserviceably comical.

“When folks refer to me as the King, makes sense that you’d serve as the Queen by association.” He reminded, peering around me and using his hand to dust off my backside. As though the man’s touch was something that could come away with enough of a spit shine.

I sighed, taking my hat off and using it to fan myself for a moment; all too sweaty in the still muggy night air. “Queen or not, it’s _fine._ Don’t need to resort to dramatics over a butt grab.”

“Hey, there’s every reason.” Hancock said, returning his gaze to the front and flashing me an impatient look. “What right does this asshole have, thinking he can put his hands on you? And it ain’t just because you’re with me, or you’re the ‘Queen’ or whatever. It’s because this is _your_ body and ain’t no one got no right to touch it without your consent.” He reached down, took my hand and gave it a squeeze. Looked me in the eyes so that I could appreciate just how serious he was being in this moment. “You need to start seeing yourself and your body as having some value. It’s not _right._ And it’s _not_ a compliment.” His gaze shifted from my own and surveyed the gathering of concerned faces currently framing us. His tone lowered; keeping our conversation centred between us and us alone. “This is your town too, darlin’. And all eyes are on _you_ now, _waitin’_ to see what sort of person you are. Ya need to show ‘em that you’re _not_ someone to be fucked with.”

“You’re just lucky-” Pattie’s furious voice continued to dominate the scene; drawing attention to the exchange between himself and the man he was currently working over. Giving me the opportunity to mull Hancock’s words over, without folks actively waiting on me for an answer. “-that I ain’t interested in givin’ any of the wee bairns nightmares by beating the ever loving shite outta yer stupid lookin’ mug. So, _here’s_ how this is gonna work.”

He yanked the guy forward, dropping him back to his feet and grabbing a firm hold of his collar. He wrenched him towards me, using the firm grip on his shirt to keep his face lowered; as though he were some unworthy peasant before the eyes of his reigning sovereign. Pattie dragged him over so that he stood, hunkered over before Hancock and I and pushed his head violently forward.

“Yer gonna apologize to the lady. And believe me,” His voice lowered to a threatening, sinuous tone I had never before imagined Pattie actually being capable of. But which cemented in my mind the very reason Hancock had recruited him as one of the original Nine. “You gonna wanna fuckin’ _mean it._ ”

“A’right, _a’right!_ ” The guy fairly much shrieked, a look on his face which suggested he very much begrudged being dressed down by a sweet, slender little unit like Pattie. Hey, boy was pretty but he was sure as shit no pushover. “Look, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _okay!?”_

Well _shit._ What the hell was I supposed to do? I mean, it wasn’t as though I had _enjoyed_ being groped on the ass by some random passing douche bag, but I wasn’t so pissed off with it so as to get a sufficient head of steam up. Stuff like this just didn’t faze me as much as Hancock seemed to think that it should. I’d been to _college_ after all. My ass had been the subject of more drive by pinches, gropes, cups and pats than I could count. So long as it never went any further than this, I hadn’t cause for needing to stick a stripe to someone else’s patootie.

But this was clearly a very different situation, as Hancock had so delicately illuminated for me. The moment that I had accepted his advances and entered into a relationship with him, I was no longer just Evelyn Anne Hallows. I was the partner of the Mayor of Goodneighbor. And the mayor was not one who could ever afford to be fucked with. That expectation now extended, by association, to me as well.

Jesus… dilemma’s, dilemma’s. I wasn’t like Hancock, after all. It didn’t come as a natural impulse to simply cast a shadow over others with force of personality alone. I was more the shrug, take a sip of your drink and drift on out sort of hombre. But of course, I couldn’t get away with this apathetic approach now. If anything, I needed to do this to protect Hancock. To reinforce his integrity as a fair but powerful presence. To not be a weak link in the chain that I had wittingly entered into, when I had kissed him that very afternoon.

I considered my options. Throw my wine in the gropy guys face? … Oh hell no. What a waste of a perfectly good bevvy. Kick him in the nuts? Eh… seemed a bit mean to lash out at a guys’ love spuds and prohibit him from moving on to father any number of children; each with the potential to perhaps cure Cancer or, god could only hope, get the televised airway’s up and running again.

And then, the answer came to me. Gentile enough but also a poignant means to convey my utter disapproval (such as it were) on the matter. Handing my bag to Hancock, I marched my way over to a nearby stall that was still in the midst of setting up. They had a nice piece of two by four leaning against the cart, serving no obvious purpose; a little like me back in my Freshman year, biding my time on the sidelines during a game of softball. With consent provided, I appropriated the piece of cast off timber, did a quick check for any overlooked rusty nails. A rebuking was all well and good but leaving a guy with tetanus in a time when it wasn’t, if at all, treatable, just wasn’t cricket.

Satisfied that all was in order, I made my way back over to the buttock groping offender; aware of the curious and slightly foreboding stares I was receiving. What, they seemed to be asking, was I about to do? Was I about to pull a somewhat mathematical misjudgement in my means and enact a modern day Vlad the Impaler; shoving the long rectangular board into a place where a board had no place in being? Was I about to smack him over the back of the head and bounce his face off of the ground with the irritation of a sexually repressed and eternally overlooked middle child trying out for the basketball team under the pretence that it might actually make his emotionally distant father proud?

But of course, none of this was in the style of Evelyn Hallows at all. I staggered my approach; slapping the splintery end of the board against my palm (trying not wince at the prickly feeling it left against my skin). Pattie had him in _juuust_ the perfect position; ironically the very same as might be required if I had half a mind to have him impaled. But I wasn’t a proper sadist; that would imply I had no empathy for the people who would be required to clean up the mess. Bad enough spilling red soda on the floor, imagine what mess an impaling would leave behind! No, my methods were far more elegant. Effective too, I’m sure. After all, was it not a universal punishment? Been good enough for me, when I’d been a girl and if it was good enough for me…

The itinerant pervert loosed a yelp as the two by four cracked him square across the ass; nearly knocking him off of his feet. I hauled back, put an extra bit of venom in it and gave him another stout smack, causing him to tuck his backside in as a means of escaping from me. The crowd, who had been reverently silent until now, burst into laughter and applauded their approval; some of them whistling and cheering me on. What might have transpired into a potential piece of nastiness, had been just so easily as resolved with a bit of cheek and humor. Something I would be remembered for. _Recognized_ for.

“Now,” I said, trotting around to the other end of the spanked man and leaning down to shake the board in his red, mortified expression. “Don’t you go grabbing anyone’s ass ever again! … Unless it’s consensual, of course. I mean… your bedroom, your business but… not out in the street to random people. Okay?!” I stinted further, having caught a good whiff of his musky scent and taking note of the pit stains in the armpit region of his shirt. I strode over to Hancock, deliberately ignored his amused look and dove my hand into my bag, reefing out the can of anti-perspirant I had in there. It was a struggle but Pattie helped; keeping the guys arms mostly pinned as I got his shirt partway open and aimed the spray can up beneath each armpit. He shrieked like a newly castrated gibbon as I blasted each of his hairy, sweaty armpits with the deodorant before extracting myself, framed on all sides by the giddy, gleeful laughter of my audience and buttoned up the guys shirt nice and neatly.

“And seriously dude… put on anti-perspirant.” I said, handing him the can and giving him a few ‘Ay, don’t worry about it’ pats to the cheek. “You may be perverted but that doesn’t mean you can’t be fragrant.”

Kicking aside the newly homeless board, I returned to Hancock’s side and slipped the handle of my bag over my shoulder as he handed it back to me. I pulled a face, genuinely bemused by what I had just done. OCD has a hell of a lot to answer for...

I was worried that this show might not have been the repercussion Hancock was angling for but the man couldn’t have looked more pleased than if he’d just been on the receiving end of oral sex from twin Cheerleader’s with nothing in the means of a gag reflex.

“Seriously?” He murmured, his arm sliding down around my waist and pulling me in so our ribcages touched together like an Eskimo’s kiss. “My catch phrase is ‘Of the people, _for_ the people’ and yours is gonna be ‘Put on anti-perspirant?’”

“He _smelt._ ” I said defensively, taking out my now nearly empty wine bottle and using the opportunity to swig from it. I offered it to Hancock who took a teeny tiny imbibement for himself. “Besides, I wasn’t thinkin’ straight. I’m not used to being put in a situation like that. I didn’t know what to say!”

Hancock laughed, handing me back my bottle so that I could screw the lid back on safely. “Not sure whether I should feel bad for the guy or jealous. I can’t see how a spanking from you really qualifies as punishment. Gotta admit though; ain’t half bad to see you getting down with your dirty self.”

“Really hurt my fucking wrists…” I pouted, flexing my right arm out in front of us and using my left hand to rub at the muscles. Hancock reached out, clasped his hand about my wrist and turned it over; exposing my vein lines to the uninhibited view of the Heaven’s.

“Not as much as it hurt his ass, I’m thinkin’…” He said, bringing his face down and pressing his nasal cavity to the inside of my wrist. He inhaled deeply, chest rising and stomach tucking in. Eyes fluttered like the wings of a butterfly trying to escape the errantly flung drops of water from a backyard sprinkler. A long deep sigh eased out from the core of his being. “Oh man… I _love_ this fuckin’ perfume…”

He kissed my inside palm, my wrist. So slow, so sumptuous… I could see in the lines of his body, the anticipation. He quivered like an arrow held suspended too long in the bow; eager to be released. There was a rigidity to his fingers; the pressure of holding all those long-sustained desires at bay. I felt like he wanted to just grab me, hard, drive me down the nearest alleyway and kiss the absolute bejeebus out of me. Pattie got in the way of that, by sweeping back to our side with most of his lips still tucked irritably into the corner of his mouth. It gave me an excuse to pull away from Hancock; to keep his passion stilled and at bay for the moment.

“Hey, thanks for having my back, Pattie.”

He shrugged, the gesture conveying a sense of apathy that the expression on his face just didn’t match. “Can’t have your front, I might as well have something.”

An unnecessary inference but one that did little to dim the significance of his loyalty. A vocalisation of gratitude really did little to convey just how touched I was by it. Thankfully, I had something else to offer, besides empty words. An introduction, as such’s.

Curie had blended into the background of Goodneighbor as effortlessly as tea steeps into a cup of hot water. We’d had little reason to be concerned about her wanderings, given that the poor woman hadn’t spent a moment unchaperoned. Even now, as she wended her way about the stalls with the elegant dexterity of some neatly framed feline, her heels were dogged by a very star struck looking Carmine; who it seemed was attempting to engage an otherwise preoccupied Curie in conversation. She as usual was going about business with that glib smile on her face; taking copious notes on everything with the tiny little notepad she always had on hand. She and Piper were near neck and neck in the tireless research department.

I gestured to her; having to just about break out the jumping jacks as a means to get her attention. When Curie was focused on gathering information, her mind pretty much rolled firmly on the one track. It took a moment for her to process the changing shift in her horizon and after blinking uncomprehendingly at me for a minute or two, exclaimed a silent little ‘Oh’ of gradual recognition and drifted over; leaving poor Carmine gibbering to thin air.

She had changed her attire at some point in the evening and I could only imagine that one of the others was responsible for pointing out the impracticality of swanning about Goodneighbor in an evening dress. (Magnolia and Meaghan could get away with such a thing but they were town Institutions). Curie was still learning about human contretemps and the do’s and don’ts when it came to appropriate dress wear. I’d seen her once march outside, on a freezing cold day, in leopard print nightie that I think might have been in Deacon’s possession originally. (Which would be disturbing if it wasn’t _Deacon)._

Her outfit was much more suited to the conditions now; a light-yellow sundress, which hugged and pinched the mounds of her breasts and fluttered about the long, lean line of her perfect, slender body. Her narrow feet were ensconced in a pair of matching sandals, with only the smallest of heels. At six feet clear, Curie was the tallest of the women in our little posse and shorter only than Nick; who broached nearly six-four. High heels would have likely set her towering over damn near every person in Goodneighbor. Though I knew her reasons for selecting sensible footwear had more to do with practicality than it had appearances.

Not that Curie would ever need to work a nerve over her appearance. Institute made body or not, she was a naturally exquisite looking woman. Perfect clean skin, with almond shaped hazel eyes, high cheek bones and a sweet, beautiful smile that spoke of blissful contentedness. Her shiny, dark brown hair was cropped into a pixie cut but her features were so petite and delicate that unlike me, she was actually able to pull it off without looking as though she’d been dragged backwards through a bush.

Pattie was staring at her with great interest, which was a good indication that he (for whatever insane reason) had yet to clap eyes on her. How such a thing had come to pass (or rather _not_ pass) I have no earthly idea. Pattie was like a universal estrogen detector and the likelihood of him having glossed over the arrival of one of the most beautiful women to grace the Wasteland was about as remote as Hancock having a Chem free day. Thank God Eve was here to put things right.

“Pattie, this is my friend Curie. Curie, this is Pattie. He’s one of the Neighbourhood Watchmen.”

“Ah yes, one of the supposed ‘scoundrels’ Monsieur Valentine warned me about.” Curie exclaimed happily, ignorant of the offense she may have caused with the honesty of her statement. She remedied this right smart in bypassing Pattie’s proffered hand and brushing her lips to each of his cheeks in turn; hands pressed to his shoulders. “ _Trés heureuse Monsieur_ Pattie. Evelyn has of course told me much about you in our travels together.”

“All bad, I hope?” Pattie chuckled, having responded to the cheek kissing with interest. Curie tittered airily, slipping her notepad and pen into the small, denim purse hanging from her shoulder.

“Oh, I do not think Evelyn would be so rude as to spread discourse about someone’s character.” She said, taking a moment to give Hancock and I a greeting peck to the cheek as well. “She ‘as said that ‘Pattie is the most ‘andsome boy she has seen in a long time.”

“Second to you.” I off-sided to Hancock, who responded with an unconvinced ‘Pssht’.

“Ah. Well, looks like I’ve got you to thank for the promotional campaign, Munch.” Pattie said, turning and flashing his million watt smile at me. I felt my knees go a little weak. God damn… it was like getting caught up in a rip. Pattie may have been directing his charm towards Curie but the effect was so broad it dragged everything else in like a tractor beam. Except for Hancock, who watched on with obvious amusement; shoulder pinned in against a nearby stall and arms crossed. Eyes occasionally straying up and down the line of my body. Mmm-mmm. Keep it together, boy.

“You enjoying your time in Goodneighbor?” Pattie asked, one of his easiest go to lines for the season. I’m sure he had ample opportunity to trot this one out; given the amount of traffic going through town.

“Ah, Goodneighbor is very different from what so many people told me.” Curie stated, gazing about at the surrounding stores with that perpetual glib smile on her face which often made her look far more daft than she actually was. “It seems to me a very ‘appy place! The people are working very ‘ard and the festival looks to be such fun! And I have yet to see one person be murdered and left on the street to rot, in spite of Monseiur MacCready’s assurances on the matter.”

“Yeah, we’re definitely betraying expectations with _that_ one.” Pattie remarked as Hancock turned and smothered his laughter with a not so carefully disguised coughing fit. “Listen, I’m off shift tomorrow night if ya needed a tour guide? I can show you some of the better haunts.”

“Oh, you know you _would_ be perfect to help me gather information on something that I have long been curious about…” Curie exclaimed, wide eyed as she clapped her fist down into her open palm determinedly. “You see, the others have told me that Goodneighbor is a place where people engage in a great deal of sexual based activity. I have a thorough understanding of the theoretical constructs of sexual intercourse, it is basic biology, _non?_ But I ‘ave not yet ‘ad the opportunity to put this into a practical construct.” She waved one of her willowy hands airily at Hancock’s hunch shouldered, snickering visage. “I ‘ad of course originally considered Mayor ‘Ancock as being a suitable candidate, given his reported sexual prowess but I understand that it would no longer be appropriate to approach him with such a request, given the societal expectations of sexual exclusivity whence in a monogamous relationship.”

“Yes. I think I’d much prefer that Hancock direct all his sexual based activity, with the exception of that which is indulged whence one is alone, towards me.” I declared, a statement which Hancock validated with a satisfied nod and a not at all discreet examination of the patch of his wrist, where he might otherwise have worn a watch. Subtlety was not in this man’s chemical makeup.

“I think we’d _all_ prefer that, Munch.” Pattie shot back neatly, his eyes still focused on Curie in a mixture of curiosity, intrigue and scepticism. “But um… let’s back up just a moment here. When you say you, uh… haven’t had the um… opportunity…?”

“You are asking whether I am a virgin? Oui. That is correct.” Curie said, unashamedly and Pattie was suddenly staring at her as though all his Christmases had come at once. He glanced between myself and Hancock, seeking validation and looked all the more gobsmacked for the nods he received.

“Jesus H. Christ… a virgin in Goodneighbor’s about as rare as a freakin’ unicorn.” Pattie exclaimed and then looked annoyed with himself for speaking so honestly. “I mean, uh… sorry. It’s just… not all that common, you know?”

“General consensus indicates that I _am_ in the minority; whence compared to other women in the approximate age category as my own.” Curie stated, cocking her head a little as though sharing some other, less personal though equally as intriguing fact she might have dazzled up from the Guinness Book of Records. She stepped closer, giving a thoughtful hum as she started to squeeze and pet the muscles of Pattie’s arms and chest. She circled around him, measured the width of his back; spaced her fingers apart and gently pinched them about the column of his neck. Pattie looked slightly nonplussed by the treatment, but even more intrigued by where she was going with it. He certainly didn’t put up a fight or protest to being mauled like a piece of fruit in the grocery store.

Curie dropped her hands from Pattie’s neck, petting down either side of his chest and to his hips, as though she were searching him for concealed weapons. His eyes widened and he jerked a little as she smacked her palm to each cheek of his rump; giving a satisfied nod in response to whatever reaction this had caused. I had since joined Hancock by the nearby stall, pretending to admire something that didn’t exist, whilst snorting uncontrollably into my palm. And here was Nick thinking he needed to keep _Curie_ safe from Goodneighbor! The question begging; who would protect the town from _her?_

Having completed her brief physical examination, Curie drifted around to face Pattie and gave a contented nod. “Based on a rough physical inspection, I can see that you ‘ave the ideal shoulder to waist ratio and toned definition of the deltoid muscle and the bicep _brachii_ that most women would factor in whence determining your suitability as a sexual candidate. Also, you ‘ave a strong, firm jawline but with possession of some soft delicate features that appeal to the inert desire females possess to nurture. Your posture suggests that you are physically capable of achieving most strength based exercises and the taut muscles of your _gluteus maximus_ indicate that you are likely to be have superior stamina to most other males in your age range.” She smiled at Pattie; thinking she had most likely paid him the world’s greatest compliment and gave yet another firm nod; converted by her own inarguable logic. “ _Oui_ … I think you should do very nicely indeed. Would you concede, Mr Patrick, to engaging in sexual intercourse with me?”

Pattie’s eyelids hadn’t sunk a jot and his gaze darted between Hancock and myself; lower lip gaping with incredulity. I’d seen woodland creatures wear the same pronounced look of shock whence caught on the highway with a car bonnet bearing down on them.

“Is this for real?”

Having perhaps thought that she had offended him, Curie attempted to soothe the water. “I am sure that you are of course, very busy with your Watchmen duties and I shouldn’t wish to impose where I am not wanted. After all, I do intend to gather as much information as possible and would as such require perhaps six to eight hours of your time, as a means of exploring most viable outcomes and exploring alternative avenues for maximum output. I understand that this would be asking a great deal of any one person, not just in time required but for the physical exertion that would be essential; so if I ‘ave offended or in any way spoken out of turn-”

Pattie just about speared his hand directly through the pockets of his pants, such was his excitement in extracting the wrinkled piece of paper he was keeping ducked away in their depths. He lost his grip on it, having to stoop and sweep it up off of the dirty ground before jamming it roughly in Curie’s direction. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing; because I had never before seen Pattie so hot and bothered. He was practically broiling his face with the hormonal discharge.

“Here.” He said, flicking the edge of the paper at Curie encouragingly. A single line of sweat slid along behind his ear and beneath the collar of his shirt; tongue dashing out to quickly swipe across his dry bottom lip. “I live in that building just there.” He turned and jabbed a finger at a squat, two story building situated behind the left-hand line of stalls. A faded candy-stripe column by the front door suggested that it was likely a Barber shop in days long past. “My room number’s on that piece of paper. I should clock off later tonight…” He paused, having apparently done the maths in his head and remembering that he couldn’t give an exact time for his return home; given that he would be waiting on Hancock and I. He twisted, jammed his hand into his back pocket and fished out a battered, silver key with a gaudy, smiley face key-chain attached to it. Hancock’s brow knocked itself into his forehead; astonished I think to see the self-proclaimed eternal Bachelor pass a house key into the possession of a female. “Here. If you like, you can go hang out if you’re okay to wait for me? There’s beer in the fridge, got a radio, some magazines… dart board, you know…”

Though it wasn’t the most appealing of invitations, Curie responded with a courteous smile, plucking the paper and keychain from Pattie’s hands and giving them a quick once over before dropping them neatly into her purse.

“You are too kind, Monsieur Patrick. If it pleases you, I shall make myself at ‘ome until you return.” She paused a moment, before stepping close to me and reaching up to set her fingertips against the edges of my hat. Attention waylaid, once more by something she found pleasing to the eye. “Oh, these ‘at’s you are both wearing are _tres séduisant!_ I will go take a look for myself; see if there is one that tickles my fancy. I shall see you later on tonight, Monsieur Patrick. _Bonsoir,_ Mayor _‘Ancock, Madame Evelyn._ ”

“Bonsoir.” I said, my voice a terrible brash honking compared to the dulcet tones of Curie’s intonation. I swear, it is near to impossible, at least to my ear, to identify a shoddy sounding French voice. The accent has this hypnotic quality that simply glosses over the resonance and makes every word sound as though it has been ejected from the Heavenly voice box of a sultry Seraphim. I couldn’t have felt more the uncultured yokel if I knocked out half my teeth, plucked a Banjo and crooned out the heartfelt tunes of ‘Jingle, Jangle, Jingle’ whilst sucking on a corncob pipe.

Pattie continued staring after Curie as she strutted off through the crowd, with the poise of a debutant presenting herself at her cotillion ball. He continued staring, some moments after she had been swallowed up by the crowd and turned on me with such a genuinely excited smile that near every white tooth in the boys wide mouth was in display.

“ _Goddamn,_ Munch! A beautiful French virgin and I didn’t get you _anything_. Wait, hold up, hold up.” He straightened up, stood with his arms out as though about to be nailed to an invisible cross and then gestured down the line of his body. “My gift to you, is the right to retain the image of this face and body to memory. Keep it and when the time is right, bring it to the forefront of your mind and overlay it with that of the wrinkly old dude you’re actually having sex with.” He cuffed a fist to my bicep and gave a boisterous, supportive wink. “So long as you are capable of shutting your eyes, this power will always be available to you! Use it well, young Evelyn. For good and not for evil.”

“Keep that up Pattie and I might just use my own power for evil and pass along a copy of your medical history to keep Curie amused whilst she waits around for ya.” Hancock threatened, arching one brow leanly into the lines of his forehead. “Sure she’d be very interested to see all the topical aids, creams, tablets and lotions you’ve required on a month by month basis. Be like readin’ an Encyclopedia of Commonwealth based STI’s.”

“Yeah, like _your_ cock wasn’t a breeding grown for crabs back in the day.” Pattie shot back, though the reprimand seemed to have taken a bit of the spring out of his step as intended. His lip had adopted that somewhat sulky looking lean it attained when he was annoyed, though it shifted just as quickly back to contentment and he indeed looked the more cheerful for what the evening had in store for him.

As we continued along, Hancock leaned close, keeping his voice low so as not to draw Pattie’s attention and asked: “Ya didn’t think to mention the whole ‘Miss Nanny in a Synth body’ thing?”

I waved a hand carelessly and _pish-toshed_ from the corner of my mouth. “Oh, please. Curie’s all about the scientific research and Pattie’s a love ‘em and leave ‘em Tom Cat. All in all, it’s just a bit of fun for them.”

A fact that Hancock couldn’t seem to find cause to argue with and so he left it alone, guiding me further East; with Pattie all but swinging himself around every streetlight we passed. Nice to think that I had made someone’s Christmas just that little bit better. Hey, it wasn’t a donation of hand stitched teddy bears to an orphanage but wars are won with small victories. Either way, I’d be making a kiddie happy.

My nostrils flared as the smell of cooking food squirmed its way up into my sinuses. I felt a kick in the lower region of my stomach and a deep, pinching strain as a groan eased up from deep inside of me. I might have been embarrassed if the surrounding hubbub hadn’t all but drowned it out. That and I was way too excited by the produce that the surrounding stalls were offering. Things I hadn’t seen since my own time; over two-hundred years past.

“John, look, _look!_ ” I exclaimed, near wrenching Hancock’s arm from its socket as I tugged him over to focus on my side of the street. “That stall sells _cheese!_ _Motherfucking CHEESE!!”_

Hancock smirked at me with fond amusement as I bounced about with such excitement it was a wonder my corked heels survived the abuse. “I thought you would be more excited by the one next to it which is selling samples of the wine you tried this afternoon.”

I just about burst like an overripe tato at these words. “OH MY GOD!!” I turned about in circles, arms spread as though I could draw in each of the stalls at my mental behest. “All I need now is a stall selling hotdogs, one selling oysters and another selling chocolate and I’m set!”

Hancock pointed to a stall over towards the left. “That one sells small chocolate samples from up North and whilst I can’t help with any of the others…” He took a moment, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully before, with a soft ‘Ah’ pointed out another stall somewhat further back on the right. “I think that one over there sells battered mushrooms from further South.”

I’m sure I could have put a frog to shame with how buggy my eyes now were. The prospect of eating such delicious food… and _chocolate!_ Oh my God, chocolate how I’ve _missed_ you! I turned dramatically, startling Hancock some as I wrapped my arms about his neck, pulled him in and smooched him with a passion of pair of doomed Shakespearean lovers. After breaking the contact between our lips, I rubbed my nose up against his nasal cavity, practically squealing my glee. Piper hadn’t been wrong when she said I loved my food. _Boy_ oh boy, did I love my eats.

“Oh _GOD! I love you so fucking much – you beautiful, sexy man!!_ ” I slapped my hand firm to the pocket of his waistcoat. “Give them ALL endorsement slips! Right _now!!_ Don’t let ‘em leave town! If anything, _I’ll_ keep ‘em in business!!”

Hancock laughed, using the back of his hand to wipe some saliva away from the sides of his mouth. Boy, I must have gone in drooling, poor guy. “Maybe you oughta do some sampling before ya go slapping an endorsement on anything, Munch. Just a thought.”

I sighed melodramatically, as though the prospect was an insufferable one. “Oh, if I must.” I grinned as I took up Hancock’s hand in my own and swanned my way over to the cheese stall first; praying that the rest of my saliva was remaining firmly staunched behind my lips. The proprietors were thankfully open for business and looked delighted to be offering it. “Hi there, how are you guys doing tonight?”

“Oh, we always have a great time in Goodneighbor, don’t we honey?” Cheesemonger Number 1 said, to the man who I presumed to be her husband. He nodded and smiled at us before continuing with the offloading of several wooden crates in the background. “Oh, and not trying to be nosy of course, but… your name’s Evelyn Hallows, isn’t it?”

“That’s me. My fine reputation precedes me, I see.”

“It _is_ a fine reputation.” The Cheesemonger firmly remarked; a statement that I can’t pretend didn’t surprise me. “People ‘round these parts are fond of you. And I think I can see why. Not often you find manners like yours.” She leaned close conspiratorially, breath heady with the scent of what I supposed might have been Sherry or some other kind of fortified wine. “Or a full set of teeth for that matter!”

I chuckled softly, not for the first time thinking I owed my dear departed Orthodontist a world of gratitude. “They’d be a bit whiter if I laid off of the cigarettes for five minutes, but thanks all the same.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Now, would you care to try some samples?”

“Was it my drooling that gave it away? Muchly yes, thankyou.” I said, watching gleefully as the Proprietor started carefully slicing samples of cheese from large wedges that she fetched out from a slanted display table at her back. Hancock leaned in, eyes narrowed as he observed the process. I don’t think he really knew what he was looking for; this sort of thing wasn’t exactly the boys’ area of expertise but I could see he was doing his best to educate himself.

“So, what is it that makes your cheese different from the standard… fare?” Hancock asked, casting me a somewhat helpless look and jerking his shoulders into a shrug. I flashed an okay sign and petted his arm, assurance some that the question was fine.

“Well, where we come from – Wisconsin – there were a lot more plants and animals that survived the Great War.” The Proprietor informed us, separating each of the cheese samples into several small containers and lining them up neatly on the countertop. “Not to mention that we weren’t hit nearly so hard as some of the cities majoring our borders. Our rate of recovery was much faster for one and we were still able to make use of a number of our factories to maximize produce. That’s why our selections have a great deal of flavor, compared to the standard Brahmin made cheeses that you get out this way.” She handed both Hancock and myself a toothpick each and I quickly jammed mine down into the first sample without waiting for further invitation. The Proprietor smiled indulgently at me before gesturing over towards a lady who was stationed behind the stall selling chocolate. “Jane is also from out Wisconsin way.”

I held my hands out in a gesture of the obvious; my treasured little square of cheese neatly impaled upon the end and awaiting its final demise. “The Dairy capital, am I right?”

“Always and forever.”

“Well, seems like I’d be a fool not to establish a trade route with Wisconsin then.” Hancock remarked, face pinched in a look of genuine contemplation as he poked his own toothpick into a sample and fetched it back in close to himself. I think the mention of the still functioning factories had spurned his interest; more than the talk of dairy products. Here in Boston, there wasn’t a factory still in operation, so the output of produce that could be on offer for Goodneighbor, if they were to establish links, would be exponentially increased. It was definitely smart thinking. And would sure as shit stick the boot fair up Diamond Cities pompous ass.

“If you don’t mind my saying Mayor Hancock, it would be most advantageous to all of us. We wish to expand beyond our borders and provide our range of produce to those states who were most affected by the Great War.” The Proprietor made a wide gesture, which I think was intended to encompass the greater Commonwealth at large. “With the exception of the Capital Wasteland, it seems as though all ya’ll here have struggled so much to get back on your feet.”

“No thanks to the Institute.” Hancock grunted, examining his cheese sample from every which way. I’m surprised Pattie hadn’t been instructed to sample everything for us first, in the event of poisoning or some such thing. But no. He remained stationary at our backs; a somewhat dreamier look in his eyes than that which he had worn for most of the night. “Used to be a lot more towns and the possibility of a Coalition, ‘til they went and fucked everything up for us.”

“Hey, who _did_ Goodneighbor send as their rep to that meeting?” I asked, speaking about the cube of cheese I had just shoved greedily into my gob. Oh my God, tasted _sooo_ good. Someone get me a cracker and some quince paste. “I would have assumed it was you, given that you’re the Mayor.”

“Before my time, Munch.”

“Thank God.” I said, reaching out to jab myself another piece of delicious cheese. The proprietor retracted the finger she had extended in my direction; perhaps poised on the verge of giving me the spiel and realizing that it was in fact futile. Brie, Monchego, who the fuck _cares_? _Cheese…_  “Given everyone was killed.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Come on now, no sad stuff.” Hancock reminded, giving me a reproachful smack to the rump. “Let’s shove some more cheese in our gobs, eh?”

I winked, returning the slap to Hancock’s ass with such interest it near pitched him face first into the sample tray. “ _Now_ you’re talking.”

Having finally attained our undivided attention, the Cheese monger launched back into her practiced (and clearly, greatly anticipated) spiel, concerning the origin and identity of each of her cheeses. This was a woman clearly proud of her work and more the pleased for seeing someone genuinely enjoy the metaphorical ‘fruits’ of her labour. After gobbling down each of the dainty offerings like I was hunkered over a lunch tray in federal prison, I was presented with the near unfathomable task of deciding which of the delicious cheeses I wished to purchase. All the more difficult, given I could barely remember the names of any of the danged things. As Pattie chomped away at his own little tasters, I had the proprietor guide me through selecting what had been my undisputed favorite; a sharp yet rich and creamy Blue Affinee cheese (which had made Hancock screw his face up like a dirty old tissue when he’d first smelt, then sampled it). So as I wouldn’t be forced to nibble alone, I also ordered a wedge of 2-year-old Justo bread cheese cheddar, which Hancock had responded more favourably to.

As the proprietor bagged up the goodies, I peeled open the sides of my bag and pawed through my belongings in search of my cap bag. By the time I’d unearthed it, I looked up only to discover that Hancock had settled on my behalf and was partway through handing over an endorsement slip.

“Thankyou.” The Proprietor all but gushed, locking the slip away in her cap tin with the reverence of an antique jeweller stumbling upon the Hope Diamond in a deceased state acquisition. “Oh, but if you want to get the most out of us as contributors I recommend checking in with our livestock handlers. We have goats and sheep that we travelled down from up North. Some good breeders, if you want to establish some in the township.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for your time.” Hancock said, tipping his hat and flashing the cheese monger his most charming smile. He turned to hand me the bag and actually winced when he saw me standing there, a sour look on my face and hands jammed hard into my hips. The disapproval more the effective because Hancock had never been married. He wasn’t numb to this display yet. “What?”

“You did it _again_.” I growled, ignoring the bag as he continued to dangle it under my nose; apparently under the boorish delusion that I would simply sweep it up with a squawk of airheaded gratitude and go mincing off through the crowd with it donned on my shoulder like a parrot. “Listen; I don’t know what kind of _madams_ you’re used to dating but I’m not with you just so you can buy me nice things. I _do_ have money of my own, you know. I _can_ pay.”

Hancock’s brows rose slowly and almost delicately up into his forehead; such a genuine expression of shock at my words that I immediately felt ungracious and more brattish than I would have been if I’d had class enough to just accept his generosity. It was just… one of my tetchy areas and one I’m certain I’d made Hancock aware of more than the once during our travels.

When I’d been a teenager, my boyfriend at the time had been much older and had money practically spilling out of his pockets. Much as it shames me to admit it, I had loved the attention it had wrought me. He was involved in a bit of criminal stuff on the side and as a result, doors, windows and walls alike seemed to burst open for him at a moment’s notice. He’d bought me lots of pretty things and I’d stupidly taken time away from my education; contented to let myself be kept. Bastard had certainly held it against me when I eventually tried to leave him. The guilt trips, the constant, searing reminders, the power games, the _control_ I’d allowed him to have over me… My self-esteem was shattered. It took _years_ of hard work for me to finally start believing in my own strength of character. To convince myself that I was capable of surviving without a man to provide for me. As much as I dearly loved and respected Hancock, I couldn’t let _anyone,_ not even _him,_ give me permission to let myself be lazy. Not ever again.

“Is it wrong that I want to spoil you occasionally?” He queried, tone noticeably injured, though possessing just the slightest pinch of reproach to the inflection. “Come on. You’re my girlfriend now.”

I sighed, running my hand over the back of my neck; embarrassed that I was behaving so ungraciously. Hancock was just… trying to be sweet. Enjoying the process of being a boyfriend. He wasn’t like that asshat I’d dated back in the day; all shitty pretence and misogyny. My lashing out was just… a learned response. And a mighty unfair one, at that.

“I just… don’t want people thinking I’m with you for money.” I said, reaching out to take the bag from his hand; cupping my palm to the side of his neck. I looked him square in the eyes; wanting him to see how sorry I was for bursting his big, happy bubble. “I don’t wanna be one of those kept women, hanging on your arm and letting you hand me pretty things.”

“Since when do you care what people think?” Hancock murmured, reaching up to take my wrist; rubbing his thumb over the ridged peak of bone at the base of my hand. I gave him a long look, wondering if he really believed the words coming out of his mouth.

“I wear makeup. Of _course_ I care what people think to _some_ extent.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry.” He said firmly, those big, dark eyes boring into me with the intensity of a nuclear-powered drill. I felt his reassurance resonate through the pressure applied in the grip of his palm; the slight jerk he gave to my arm. “It’s _fine_. I _want_ to do it, Munch. And I have the money to do it.” He let me go, remarked offhand as he turned and huffed his irritation into the night air. “What else would I spend it on if not you? More chems? More nights I can’t remember? Rather it go towards cherishing someone I care about. Makin’ you happy.”

I smiled, prepared to concede to his point on the matter. “Look, I get that honey, I really do. Just…” I reached over and gripped his elbow; gave him a little rub. “Let me pay my own way occasionally, okay?”

“Fine.” Hancock drawled, pinching the tip of my nose and giving it a little waggle from side to side. Kind of how a doting Great-Aunt might have pinched your cheeks and called you ‘Puddin-face’. “But only if you let me spoil you occasionally without getting all ‘noble’ about it. Consider these sorts of things to be part of your Christmas gift, okay?”

“If I must.” I sighed, tugging his hand off of my nose and sliding my fingers back down between his own. “Now… I have a dilemma on my hands. What to try next? Wine, chocolate or mushrooms? Decisions, decisions…”

“Well… I haven’t tried chocolate before.”

The horror that bled across my face like a spaghetti stain upon a white blouse was surely unparalleled. I stared up into Hancock’s face; mouth gaping, wondering how a person could have come so far in life, could learn to laugh and smile every day for a reason other than the prospect that a delicious sliver of creamy, cacao flavoured goodness was waiting for you on the other side.

“NO.”

He nodded; a sad affirmation of a truth that he couldn’t even begin to understand the concentrated wretchedness of. “True.”

“This is the worst. It cannot be.”

“‘Fraid so.”

To sound so cavalier about his plight… as though the taste of chocolate were something to speak about with an almost humorous nuance to his tone! This truly was a man who had never before borne such a resplendent oratory experience. I stinted far too long on this sorrowful happenstance before, with a cheeky smile, assuaging myself with the knowledge that the solution to this offense was but mere footfalls away!

“The wrongs of this world must be righted.” I declared, pressing a fist against my upper chest and dipping my Radstag donned head in a reverential bow. “Hold firm, my mighty sovereign. Your Queen shall amend this egregious travesty!”

I broke away with the drama of the Silver Shroud, swishing his platinum coattails into the night, rounding up on the chocolate selling stall with the sense that I perhaps had far too much dribble adorning the curve of my chin to be at all presentable. Tempted though I was to stick around long enough to run through every one of the samples with the seller, I instead purchased just a small block of approximately eight squares; knowing I couldn’t be trusted to guard my appetite before dinner. I returned to Hancock’s side, marking his pleasantly intrigued expression as I broke off one of the squares and placed it between my teeth.

“Open wi~iiide.” I sang, tilting back my head and reaching up on my tiptoes so as to bring my lips close to his own. He chuckled a little, shaking his head but not looking at all adverse to the prospect. Why, I’m sure the chocolate could have tasted like sand speckled shit and he would have still shown interest.

“See? I knew I’d make a bad girl of you eventually.” He said, smile parting as he dipped his chin; pinching the square of chocolate delicately between his chipped front teeth. I didn’t give him an opportunity to get a grip and quickly sucked the chocolate back into my mouth; winking one of my eyes as I poked my tongue out just long enough to show that I held the cube suspended on the center of it.

“Come and get it…”

He smirked at me as I drew my tongue back into my mouth; fighting against all-natural instinct which said to suck the shit out of that tasty little cube. Hancock’s hands pressing to my waist provided a delightful distraction; pulling my stomach and chest in tight against his body. I could feel his lungs tuck in heady breath, deflating just as dramatically a moment later. His breath was very warm against my cheeks. That smell again… aftershave, cigarettes and Scotch. Hancock.

“Oh, you got _no idea_ what you’re in for, Munch.” He murmured, that low, sexy purr sending shivers down through the soles of my sandals. I bet the worms beneath the earth could have felt the effect he had on me; that irrefutable tremor of desire. He slid his lips against mine; a light, subtle caress that favoured still more the spaces between us, than the places in which our flesh made contact. His tongue touched against this emptiness; flicked against my upper lip before eradicating the remainder of the void in a hungry, passionate procurement.

I pressed my hands against the rise of his biceps; clutched the apices of the shirt sleeves, as I pushed up that little melting cube of chocolate and passed it over into his custody. He withdrew back into his own mouth; with the dexterity most other person’s barely possessed with the tips of their fingers. Through our connection, I felt the jerk of his jaw as he chomped down on the chocolate and the rumbling, soft moan of pleasure as the taste of it swirled about his mouth. Some of it got passed back to me in his spit and I marvelled at my own, somewhat disgusting daring as I slurped it back inside my mouth. We passed the shattered, melting fragments back and forth across our tongues, our hands and palms pressing tighter and tighter, until I thought the circulation might never be restored about my hips. Hancock seemed to be passing into something of a sugar high and I remembered of course that he hadn’t yet had an experience such as this. I might have been going in a bit hard for a guy just popping his chocolate cherry.

With that in mind, I carefully broke the kiss, ensuring that the last remaining bit of chocolaty goodness was Hancock’s to enjoy. He chewed for a moment, eyes wide and staring, unblinking, into the ether. After a moment, his hand left my waist and carved a trembling, distracted path up to his forehead.

“Whoa…” He drawled, possessing all the eloquence of a duded-out line backer who had taken one too many stout whacks to the helmet with a lead lined football. Pattie, sporting a somewhat impressed expression, laughed from over his shoulder.

“I’ll say. Never thought you’d have _that_ up your sleeve, Munch.” He struck what I suppose he considered to be a stereotypically sexy pose; one which I was ashamed to say, he actually managed to make appealing. “Hey, you know… _I’ve_ never tried chocolate before either…”

Rather than risk the condemning of myself to any one of the Seven Circles, I resisted temptation and plucked a square neatly off of the block in my hands and quickly jammed it into Pattie’s hand; smearing most of his palm in the process. “Help yourself.”

He laughed, taking the square and slipping it between his lips with a wink of one of those big, feathery eyes. “Sister, you are no fun.”

“I’m a one Ghoul woman, honey. Tempting though that pretty face of yours is.”

“So long as you admit it.”

“That shit… is amazing…” Hancock burred, taking off his hat so as to wipe his palm back over the crown of his sweat speckled pate. Reaffixing it, he offloaded a mental shake upon his bad self before slinging his very best unaffected smirk in my direction. The corner of his lip quavered a little; spoiling the effect he had been going for. “Is that how you’re _supposed_ to eat it? Because I never saw any of _that_ in the old adds.”

I laughed softly, using my thumb to wipe some chocolatey residue from the corner of his lips; trying to pretend as though I wasn’t half tempted to lick it off when I was done. Nope. Needed to preserve that vestige of sexiness I had very nearly broached. “Personal touch, sweetheart.”

I wasn’t quite prepared for him to turn the tables so quickly and found myself in quite the state of breathlessness when Hancock ducked in close; pressing his mouth feather light against my own. “One I wouldn’t mind you repeating tonight.” He breathed, giving me the smallest peck before leaning back and swiping his tongue over his lips in reminiscence. “Man… now, wouldn’t it be something if you could melt the stuff?” He trailed his fingertip down along the strap of my top; none of his ‘near’ subtle insinuations lost as his nail grazed against the swelling of my left breast. “Can think of some fun we’d have with that…”

I perched my lips close to his ear, singing softly. “You _caaa~aan._ ”

Hancock’s eyes widened slightly. “No _shit._ Well… just got me a whole ton of new ideas. But first things first.” He marched his way over to the stall and handed the proprietor one of his endorsement slips with a more than strictly necessary flourish of the wrist. “Here, now. I’ll make you your own shop if you can keep producing this stuff. And see what you can do about putting some melted stuff in a can while you’re at it.”

I shook my head in mirth, tucking the wrapped remains of the chocolate into my bag as he all but skipped back to my side; an unapologetically cheeky swish to his hips as he came.

“You’re a bad boy.”

He scooped his arm around my midsection, turning me so hard and fast on the spot that my shoe chiselled a divot out of the soft earth. “That’s why you love me.” He chirped, taking the side of my neck into his palm and kissing me hard and deep. I could still taste the chocolate on his tongue; could smell the dense aroma on his breath. His hand slid up and down the sway of my back; like a sculpture sanding some fine work of art from the word of an aged tree. I could feel his heart speeding up; as though a tiny fist were beating to escape the cage of his chest. _Thump-thump-thump…_

It felt good to be in his arms. But it was so hard to relax with all these people around us. Especially Pattie, who you just knew was either rolling his eyes and sighing or watching way too closely. I broke the kiss, drawing a disappointed little moan from Hancock in the process and pecked him lightly on the cheek as some form of recompense.

“You know, I could do this all night but I’m thinking we should finish looking around before we get too hard and heavy with it.” I whispered, brushing my thumb tenderly across the withered indentations of his cheek. He sighed, resigned once more to reality and the precocious precautions that came part and parcel with it.

“Guess so.” He took up my hand, slid his fingers between my own and issued a gentle tug to encourage me forwards. “Come on. Grab those mushrooms then and let’s get on with it.”

 _Get on with it._ Such an enthusiastic response to the prospect of staggering out the public portion of our date. I rolled my eyes where he couldn’t see me, understanding and appreciating full well how pent up the poor guy was but thinking he could have been just the slightest bit subtler. You know… at least _pretend_ that he wasn’t just hanging out for the wild, naked, bouncy, acrobatics portion of the evening.

We continued along the line of stalls, chatting with folks along the way and passing out endorsement slips where Hancock felt appropriate. (Or where I made a big enough commotion about the shit they were selling). While Hancock was chatting with someone at one of the stalls, I got to examining the one beside it; munching happily on the small bag of deep fried mushrooms I’d purchased. The stall appeared to be selling jewellery and though I wasn’t exactly a fanatic when it came to the bling, it sure was hard to resist something shiny. Especially when you had an attention span as short as mine.

“See anything you like, Miss?”

I glanced up to see the Proprietor watching me with an expectant smile. “You win points just by referring to me as ‘Miss’.” I gestured with one of my crumby, salt rimmed fingertips over the display. “Did you make all of these?”

“Me and the rest of the staff.” He replied, reaching down to adjust one of the silver necklaces which I could have sworn hadn’t been even the teensiest bit off kilter. I suspected he might have been trying to draw my attention to it.

“They’re beautiful.” I said truthfully, leaning as close as I dared what with the remnants of greasy mushrooms still suspended between my teeth. I examined a gold ring with a deep, blood red stone that looked like a Garnet. “The stones can’t be real though, right? Not after all this time.”

The Jeweller leaned forward, tapping one of his disturbingly perfect looking fingernails against the band of the ring. “Appropriated from older jewellery pieces scavenged from about the ruins. We take them out, clean and reset them. Shape silver and gold with a refining process to create new pieces. So yes,” He concluded with a smile he just couldn’t resist leaching a bit of the old world smarm into. “A lot of these stones are genuine.”

“Shit.” Was my ever so classy response as I leaned back, scraping out the last few errant morsels from my paper bag and tossing them into my mouth. “You must be raking in a fortune.”

The Proprietor did his best not to recoil at my not at all appealing display of open mouthed mastication. “Yes, and no. We don’t charge much.” The corners of his lips curled up like snakes under the guise of a gifted charmer. “Would certainly be a boon to business if the Mayor’s girlfriend was seen wearing a piece of our merchandise.”

I chuckled self-mockingly, wiping at my chin as I felt a distinct chunk of batter launch free from behind my teeth. “Never was much one for jewellery, dude. Always too rough on what I owned.” I paused a moment, eyes snagging upon a pair of gold tear dropped shaped earrings. The setting was a dark blue stone, surmounted by what appeared to be small, white diamantes. They reminded me of a pair of earrings my mother had worn nearly every day of her life. The pair she’d been wearing when we had buried her. I rested my fingers against the left hand one, lifted it slightly and watched how the light hit the gleaming faces of the blue stone. “This though… this is really beautiful.”

“Do you want them?” Hancock asked from right beside my ear. So close, I was surprised I hadn’t felt his breath down the back of my neck before he spoke. I near jumped right out of my dang shoes; turning with a hand pressed to my chest and a number of itinerant gasps shooting out from between my lips.

“Jesus John! Don’t you go sneak up on me like that!”

“Hardly sneaking. Just came and stood behind you.” He said with an innocent look that really didn’t suit him at all. He stepped out from behind me and leaned down; using his finger to gently lift one of the earrings up. Perhaps admiring the way the dim lighting seemed to ricochet off of it at every conceivable angle. He turned then and glanced up at me; a reassuring smile pervading the lines of his lips. “They’d look perfect on you.”

I laughed awkwardly; my gaze flickering into the far reaches of my eye sockets with embarrassment. Oh God… would it ever stop being impossible to accept his praise without being wholesomely overwhelmed by it?

“That’s if the holes in my ears haven’t closed over…” I said, reaching up and tugging on the once many times pierced over lobes. Lobes that had been unadorned now for over… what, a year? Two centuries? Long enough, either way. “Won’t be much point getting them if I can’t even wear them.”

“You could always get something else pierced…” Hancock drawled flirtatiously and I laughed, more comfortable in our ribbing banter as I held my fingers up to my chest; emulating a Vegas Show Girls tassels.

“Yeah. I bet these would look _great_ hanging from my nipples.”

Hancock laughed, extending his hand to pick up one of the earrings and requesting the Proprietors permission before plucking it out of the carefully crafted nook in which it rested. He ferried it through the air towards me, gently taking hold of my earlobe with his free hand and pulling it in such a way as to expose the once present puncture mark.

“Let’s see here…” His tongue folded between his teeth in concentration as he delicately pressed the hook of the earring against my flesh and started sliding it about; checking for the catch. I waited patiently, trying not to wince at the slight scratching of the steel; thinking all the while that it was a pointless exercise. Imagine my surprise when, after a moments sting, the hook slid through to the far side of my lobe. “There we go. Lucky.”

 _More than lucky,_ I thought, reaching up to check that my ear wasn’t bleeding. It felt as though a thin layer of skin had formed at the back of the piercing and Hancock had pushed through it with the hook of the earring. There was no blood, so it obviously hadn’t been too thick. I felt a small sense of relief. Earrings were not something I considered to be a necessity; given they were just one other thing an attacker could rip out as a means to disable you. But it was nice to think I could afford the luxury when I was getting about in the towns, or enjoying a special occasion. Of all jewellery items, earrings had always been my favourite. Little surprise, given I’d had about sixteen of them at one point in time.

With a satisfied smirk crowning his face, Hancock plucked up the remaining earring and threaded it through my remaining lobe with the panache Meaghan might have demonstrated whence repairing a tear in a cotillion robe. After taking a moment to admire his handiwork, he took up a small mirror from the countertop and held it so as to allow me to appreciate how it looked for myself.

The earrings were… far more exquisite than anything I had ever owned; in this life or the prior. I’d worn a diamond set for my wedding, of course but this was simply… something else. Even with the dopy looking Radstag hat on, I couldn’t deny that they brought something out in my appearance that I couldn’t have otherwise been able to appreciate. Maybe it was because they resembled the ones my mother had owned but I could feel myself getting the slightest bit weepy. My image in the mirror became blurrier than it had been to begin with. I swung my eyes up to the cloudless night sky; trying to keep the tears from leaking out.

“See? I was right.” Hancock kissed up under my ear, his hands squeezing my shoulders comfortingly. “Perfect.”

“Damn.” I practically hiccupped, scrunching my left over mushroom wrapper into my handbag so that I could carefully dab the tears out from under my eyes. Couldn’t afford to go and ruin my carefully applied makeup job now. “They really _are_ beautiful…” Out of innocent curiosity, I glanced down at the price tag; trying my hardest to pretend as though I wasn’t praying for it to be reasonable. “Ouch. That hurts.”

“It’s okay. I got it.” Hancock said, snapping the words off faster than the neck of a lame, slow moving Turkey at Thanksgiving. I grabbed his wrist as it dove, almost eruditely into the pocket of his waistcoat. If my blush had been bad before, it was going supernova now. Slip that Turkey in under my hat and it would be cooked within a half hour.

“John, no. Please. It’s too much.”

He ignored me, much to my annoyance and took out what looked to be… a cheque book? What the _hell_? “How much for the necklace as well?”

“John!” I yelled, loud enough for several people in the nearby vicinity, to snap about and pay attention to what was going on. God fucking _dammit._ Last thing I wanted was more people witnessing this unappealing display. Pattie couldn’t have looked more delighted than if he was being sprung by pretty gifts himself. Why the boy got off on seeing me squirm I can’t pretend to know.

The Proprietor held up two of his impeccably smooth fingers, unswayed by our burgeoning domestic. “One-thousand two hundred caps.”

Well, in my time one-thousand two-hundred ‘caps’ wouldn’t have bought you much in the way of jewellery. Maybe cheap facsimiles of actual jewels. But three hundred years in the future and I knew that four hundred caps for a few tiny items was the definition of exorbitant. My wedding ring had sold for seven hundred and that had been genuine gold. I could tell by one look at the earrings and the matching necklace that dangled enticingly alongside, that they were the real McCoy and no doubt worth more than what the Jeweller was offering. But I was still mortified by the thought of Hancock shelling out the money. I turned to him, shaking my head so violently that it sent the Radstag legs flipping about like the legs of a jellyfish caught in a tidal pool. As was his newly developed habit, Hancock took to pretending as though I wasn’t there, frisked out a pen from the same pocket and started scribbling on the top most sheet of his little book.

“I’ll take both.” He declared, ripping the page off neatly at the sidelong indent and making to pass it over to the proprietor. I grabbed his inside elbow, firmly halting his progress and near turned him in a circle; such was my determination to get the stubborn fucks attention.

“Johnathon Archibald Hancock! You stop that right now please and _listen_ to me!”

“No, Miss Evelyn Anne Hallows I will _not_ stop and listen to you.” He shot back, as clean and crisp in his tone as the starched lines in an Army reservists bunk on inspection day. “I am _buying_ you your Christmas present. You promised you would let me spoil you occasionally and as such, you are being _spoiled_.” His eyes narrowed as a flash of annoyance looked to flicker through the forefront of his brain. “And for the last time it’s _not_ fuckin’ ‘ _Archibald’_!”

I sniffed peevishly as he shook my hand free from the crease of his elbow. “Well _excuse me_ for you being too secretive to disclose either your birthday _or_ your middle name.”

“Don’t care for birthdays, care even less for middle names.” He remarked, passing the signed slip over to the Jeweller, who, in tribute to my earlier expression, stared down at it uncomprehendingly. “But if you must know, it’s Francis.”

I snorted before I was able to get a hold of myself. Oh _my._ Now _there’s_ a name I had never before imagined in conjunction with Hancock.

“ _Francis?_ Johnathon _Francis_ Hancock?”

He flashed me a cool, haughty look over his shoulder. “After St Francis; the holy animal lover, you philistine. Ma was a ‘once in a blue moon’ Catholic. That’s the sort of shit that happens.” He finished scribbling out his signature on an endorsement slip and passed this over into the Proprietors hand as well. “And… there you go. An endorsement slip. Could use your services in town.”

“Thankyou.” The Jeweller replied; slowly and carefully. Still glancing back and forth between the two slips, with his lip sucked up into the corner of his mouth. I could tell he didn’t know what to think and was hesitant about asking, in case it caused offense. “Um…”

“It’s legit.” Hancock said, taking mercy in leaning over and tapping his fingernail against the… cheque? “Just take it over to the bank and they’ll transfer the caps directly to your hand.”

“Ah, of course.” Said the Jeweller, as though this statement provided some clarity that I myself was plainly missing. He tucked away the slips and gazed up at me, hands perched over his slightly round belly with an almost grandfatherly look of approval. “And honestly, miss, all pretence aside; those earrings really do you justice.”

I sighed as Hancock took up the necklace, wishing I could sand the edge off of the slightly sick feeling I had in the pit of my stomach. “Thankyou. Although god only knows where I’ll have the chance to wear them.”

“Every time I treat you to something nice, love. Which from here on out, is a set thing.” Hancock practically chirruped, placing the necklace around my neck, with much aplomb. I could tell he was cherishing the novelty of spoiling someone and reminded myself to be gracious.

The necklace was teardrop shaped; in the same design as the earrings. It rested just above the crease of my bosom; no doubt serving as an aid in drawing the eye more to this over pronounced area than usual. Hancock fiddled with the clasp for a moment and I felt a small pang of empathy; remembering how his fingers and hands started aching of an evening. I was just about to take over for him, when he succeeded in getting the hook to catch. With a small satisfied ‘Ah’ he reached about and carefully adjusted the pendant; ensuring that it sat just so-so within the near nook of my cleavage. Another kiss to just below my ear and our gazes dropped as one to take in our matching reflections in the stall mirror.

“You look beautiful…” He said and with his eyes focused so intently on the me in the mirror, I could tell he truly did believe such a thing. To Hancock… I was beautiful. For whatever reason I had somehow unconsciously given him… I was beautiful.

I turned, locked him still with my stare and kissed his lips; pressing my arms in firm about his lovely shoulders. “Thankyou.” I breathed between his lips. Espousing a gratitude that went beyond the material offering he had draped about my neck. Which spoke more of the words he’d said and the look in his eyes. “It’s… the most beautiful Christmas gift I’ve ever had.”

He laughed, perhaps a little embarrassed for the first time himself that night. He eased the seriousness somewhat by whipping off my hat and ruffling my hair. God freaking _dammit!_ Big dummy had no idea how long those controlled waves had taken! Not to mention he’d just gone and sent my Fever blossom flying off somewhere.

“‘Nuff said, ‘nuff said. It’s alright, darlin’.” He chortled, planting one quick peck to my lips before holding me gently with both hands nursing my jaw. He smoothed my hair out, tilted his head from side to side. The corners of his mouth formed arrows where they met the peaks of his cheeks. “How beautiful are you? Damn, I’m a lucky guy.”

I punched him hard in the bicep; having had quite enough of the fluffy shit he kept upending spectacularly upon me at every turn. He flinched away, concern creasing his face for a bare moment before he caught my smile and relaxed.

“You have _got_ to stop saying that. Lay it on too thick and my head’ll get so big I’ll have to drag it along the ground beside me.” I scolded, turning back towards the Jeweller and giving a jolly wave as I back trotted away towards the remaining line of the Eastern Annex. “Thankyou! Best of luck with the rest of the fete!”

As Hancock caught up to me, I snatched my hat off of him and plopped it back atop my head. I thought back to the slip that he’d handed to the Proprietor; wondering if this had in fact been a cheque and if he’d actually been sincere when he’d spoken about a ‘bank’. There _wasn’t_ a bank in Goodneighbor so far as I was aware and I’d strolled damn near every alleyway in this town in the days before its expansion. Though of course, the idea of a bank made more sense than Hancock attempting to scalp someone. He was the least cheap person I knew. The sort who would give you the shirt off of his back and I don’t even mean this as a simple turn of expression.

“Hey, honey?” I called, turning back to see Hancock lift his head with a curious, yet simultaneously contented expression on his face. Wow. For a guy that professed an affinity for running away from the good stuff, he seemed a natural at accommodating the notion of coochy-coo monogamy.

“Yes, Poopy-Bear?” He purred back, an endearment that reached right into the string section of my inner being and plucked a cord of utter repulsion. My expression crunched and shattered like a crystal glass under the strains of a Diva’s torturous trilling and I spun, cracking my palm hard against his arm.  

“ _Poopy-Bear?!_ ”

He laughed indulgently, moving back in close to cluck his fingers to the scarring on my chin. A gesture that hadn’t altered a jot since the time of our first acquaintance. “What is it?”

“That… cheque you gave to the Jeweller back there… That a new thing?” I petted a hand to the pocket of his vest. “I mean, you were making fun of me for the Charge Card thing earlier but now I see you with a cheque book and-?”

“Oh, right… never did run that one by ya, did I?” He said, winking as he took up my arm and guided my hand down into the familiar crease of his inside elbow. A comforting pet to my curled fingertips. “Come on. This a-way.”

He squeezed me through a gap in the stalls on the left-hand side and led me towards a building that, by virtue of the overhanging lights, had until that point been indistinct from the shadows. Now that I was no longer distracted by the fete itself, I could see orange light petering out through two narrow windows, which split along either side of the corner store. The entryway was composed of four somewhat steep steps leading up to a wooden doorway; above which I could vaguely discern a bronze, rectangular sign. Even if my vision hadn’t been as crappy as a diuretic skunk, I doubted I’d be able to discern what was written there. Townsfolk needed to put a dang light on under that sucker if they wanted any business at this here place.

Hancock used the wall to ease himself up the stairwell, before reaching out to push the door inward. Light flooded down like water loosed from a tilting bucket; slicking over my toes and sloughing further still, to drench the street behind me in an ever-expanding arc. Hancock extended his hand, waiting for me to slide my palm across his own before tightening the grip of his fingers.

“After you.”

I stepped onto the stairwell; forced to turn my feet pretty much sidelong in order to fit them on each narrow foothold. My feet were on the petite side as was, so I daren’t imagine how folks with big old dogs were expected to get up this bad boy without tripping all over themselves. Hancock guided me along, doing a miserable job of trying not to smile at how overly cautious I was being. It was a relief to get in over the doorsill; where I could spread the length of my foot out without worrying about my heel slipping free and sending me careening backwards down the street. Pattie chose to avoid the matter entirely and simply launched himself up over the stairs, with the poise and precision of an Olympic long jumper. As his big, canoe sized shoes skittered across the linoleum floor without finding a whole lot of purchase, I took to gaping like a fool; staring around at the room in which I had found myself, whilst Hancock radiated smug, satisfaction from just behind my shoulder.

The building had quite obviously once been a bank. A small one but outfitted with all the usual amenities that you would expect in such an establishment. Two high tables on which to fill out slips lined on either wall and outfitted with the atypical ‘pen on chain’ ensemble. A countertop to our immediate left; manned by at least two individuals who were spruced up in matching blue outfits that had the stink of Meaghan draped all over them. An open space at their backs panned out into a larger room that was liberally lined with what looked to be safety deposit boxes. Protected on either side by two locked security doors and at least three busily circling police themed Protectrons. A clearly illuminated sign had been screwed into the wall above the countertop and I squinted my eyes so as to bring the words into focus.

“’The Regional Bank of Goodneighbor?’” I turned to Hancock; uncertain as to whether I ought to be taking this whole thing seriously or not. “ _Really?_ ”

“Seemed a good as name as any.” He replied, unashamed as he gestured about the room. “Carrying around all those caps is just bad for your back.” He mugged it up; rubbing the backs of his fingers against his shirt and adopting a smarmy expression. “Especially when you’re as enormously wealthy as me.”

I launched my elbow hard into his ribs. “Shameless. But go on.”

“As such, I’ve introduced this new exchange system in Goodneighbor.” He said, rubbing his ribcage before offering up something of a disconcerted tilt to the head. “Well, am _attempting_ to implement with mixed results. Some folks have tried to counterfeit it already, which is a bastard of a thing. Still trying to work out the kinks. But I think we nearly have it.” He indicated now to the gentleman standing pride of place behind the countertop. “See… we got ourselves an old printing press. Managed to make up some of these cheque books, with a seal and some UV specific renderings. Got a machine back there that can pick it up; check the authenticity of the cheques.” He flipped the little book out of his waistcoat pocket and showed it to me. “See there? That’s the new, officially registered seal of Goodneighbor.”

I took the book off of him and looked at it. The seal in the corner of the cheque was your standard looking royal crest type fella with GN inscribed in the center and underpinned with a verse that I suspect might have been Latin. That or gobbledegook. The crest itself had a Molerat, rearing up on its hind legs to one side and what appeared to be a Radgull flanking the other. There was the usual scrawling of lines beneath it; places to sign ones’ signature, the amount you wished to have dispensed, the date of transaction; etc.

I tapped my barely there fingernail to the line of text beneath the phrase. “I’m guessing this is Latin for ‘ _Of the people, for the people’_.”

Hancock grinned, leaning in and all but resting his chin against my shoulder. “That’s what most people think.” He took my fingertip and guided it along beneath the quotation. “ _Quidquid latine dictum, altum videtur._ “Whatever is written in Latin, sounds profound”.”

My mouth gaped and then quirked up into an immediate, unintentional and wholly undeniable smile. “You didn’t!”

“You can be sure as shit, I did.”

“That’s terrible! You know that was only ever meant to be a joke!”

Hancock smirked, reaching around to cluck his fingers to my chin. “Hey, you just thank your lucky stars I never incorporated the crossed Med-X and Jet canisters you came up with. Thought about it though. Classic.”

I held up the cheque so that they light could hit it from behind; illuminating the iridescent crest in the corner. The light flashed off of it with almost as much panache as the necklace. “I do like the use of the Molerat and the Radgull. Two both underappreciated creatures.”

“They’re both seen as pests.” Said Hancock, sagely, as though I had been somehow remiss of this intrinsic piece of knowledge in the time I had spent wandering the greater Commonwealth. As though I had missed folks liberally hurling cast off pieces of rotten fruit at circling Radgulls. “Just like everyone living in Goodneighbor. But they survive above all odds. Just like we do.”

“Oh, I breathe the irony, babe.” I gestured about the vast, typically echoey interior of the bank. “So, do you keep all your money in here or-?”

Hancock’s eyes widened in response to my ignorance. “Oh, hell no. Make it too much of a target. I keep about less than half of my accumulated assets here.” He used his fingers to indicate to two separate, theoretical entities. “Personal _and_ town specific. The rest is in that safe I told you about. Secret location.”

“Right.” I said, my voice descending into something of a distracted drawl as I continued panning my gaze about the inside of the bank. It looked vaguely familiar, the trusses of the building… I wondered if I’d visited at some point in the past. Mustn’t have been an important enough event to relegate to the extra special chambers of my long-term memory. There was _something_ though… A tiny, flickering speck of recognition just pricking at the corners of my subconscious…

Hancock’s palms closed suddenly about my face and turned it back towards his own; an expression of concern marring his features. Oh. Clearly, he’d taken my tone as being one of offense, rather than my attention having simply drifted. Whoops. Talk about turning into Mr. Super Sensitive!

“Hey. It’s not that I don’t trust you.” He said firmly, his thumbs making soft rotations against the curves of my cheek. I thought of the big bald spot he must have been wearing into my foundation. “I’ll take you out to where it is soon enough. Only you and Nick and Fahrenheit will know.”

I chuckled softly, reaching up to take him by the wrists and bringing his hands down to squeeze between my own. “Honey, I wasn’t taking offense. Business is business. I don’t need to know every little secret you have.” I smiled, leaning forward and gently tapping my forehead against his own. “I respect your right to have some things that are just… purely you.”

The corners of his lips strayed higher, making two pert mounds of his pitted cheeks and delineating a series of spider web like lines to the shallows of his eyes. An expression I had come to know all too well as one of genuine contentment on Hancock’s part. His pupils shifted ever so slightly in the wane recess of darkness that were his eyes and he reached around, planting a quick, appreciative kiss to the pillow of my cheek. I didn’t bother fighting back the urge to tilt my head up in acceptance of the gesture; it was too cute, someone like Hancock popping a kiss to someone else’s cheek. Kind of made me feel gooey all the way down to my little pinched in tootsies.

“Man… don’t I just love ya all the more for that. Too sweet for your own good…” His eyes took on a different sort of shine now; something more akin to hunger rather than gentle endearments. He moved closer, trailed his fingertips ghostlike along the length of my bare arm; stirring up every tiny hair that they glanced upon. I felt a tingling strafe down my spine, shoot through the base of my tailbone and nestle deeper still; sparking a stirring pinch in my groin as he fingers found mine. Caressed them tenderly, _pointedly._ Wove between them, brought the moist palms together. The pads of my feet started to itch; blood was circulating within my body to long uncharted avenues. “You know… whole lot more we could have a look at but I’m… _starvin’_ right now.” His smile said as much; the not so subtle double entendre. Would have been more the seductive if Pattie hadn’t been leaning on the countertop in the background; yawning and twiddling his pinkie finger in his ear. “What say you and me just head on out and have that dinner now, eh?”

I mustered the smallest, somewhat stilted laugh as I closed the space between us; settling my lips on the curve of his ear. Trying to remember what it was like to do this sexy talk thing that seemed to come so natural to other folks but to me was an exercise in abject awkwardness.

“You ain’t thinkin’ about dinner right now, are you?”

Hancock, apparently unconcerned with the observing eyes dotting the room, slid his left hand around my hip and further still; gathering a good helping of my ass into his palm and squeezing hard. “Depends,” He murmured, smirking as he relaxed his grip only as a means to plant a good hearty slap to the cheek that he had only just finished mauling. Oh _my._ Shit was starting to get _real._ “On what kind of appetite ya think I’m wantin’ to slake.”

It was a strange thing to be thankful for, but I couldn’t help but feel relieved by the thunderous staccato of gunshots that rose from somewhere beyond the left-hand wall. Not for the fact that Hancock was starting to get all hot and heavy; it just saved me the embarrassment of gawking my way through some half-assed, embarrassing attempt at sexiness. (It’s a lot easier when there aren’t two bank tellers and a Patrick watching you. Performance anxiety has a lot to answer for).

To give credit where credit’s due; Hancock was a consummate pro when it came to prioritization and he reacted instinctively, turning and bringing his arms behind himself so as to create some kind of barrier about me. What you would expect most men to do in a situation that might have otherwise presented harm to their loved ones. If I hadn’t been so concerned as to what was going on, it might have made me smile to see him all but forgetting the last year of our travelling together. But then I recalled him having done this self-same thing more than the once and not just where I was concerned. Cait and Piper too, in spite of their differences at the time. _Sigh…_ I could have been offended but it was just too… manly.

“Pattie!” Hancock barked, stepping back and forcing me to follow suit; keeping me as far from the door as possible. Pattie was already up off of the counter, dual pistols snug in the grip of both hands and half-way across the room; elf hat bauble bobbing all the way.

“I got it!” He called back, stowing a gun long enough to pop the door open and then yanking it back out as he bounded down the stairwell and strafed quickly to the right and into the darkness of the bordering alley. I reached up, snatching my hat off of my head and quickly shoveling it into my bag. Those dangling legs were adorable but if they got in the way of my vision, the oversight could be a potentially fatal one.

“Let’s go!” I urged, feeling that familiar little burst of excitement stir the adrenaline down into my limbs as I yanked out my .44 and snapped back the safety. In the days of old, Hancock and I would have been all up in the action with barely a moment’s hesitation. On my part, more than his. But it seemed that the boyfriend version of Hancock wasn’t so prepared to risk the safety of Girlfriend Eve and his hand snagged my arm, bringing the barrel of the gun down to point to the shining linoleum floor. The already agitated bank manager noticeably flinched. Hancock’s eyes burned with urgency.

“No! It’ll be the boys roundin’ up the Triggermen. I don’t want you getting caught in the midst of all that.”

I reminded myself that he was still recovering from today’s revelation; still coming to terms with the knowledge that he had lacked control over Marowski’s actions during the past decade. The effect that this had on him was of course monumental. He was terrified of my being hurt again. This, more than anything was what was guiding his actions, I’m sure. More than my simply (or not so simply, really) becoming his girlfriend. He was struck with the fear that if he took his eyes off of me, that something terrible would happen. Protecting me was something he _could_ control. And I suppose, flatteringly, he felt that any harm coming to me would have been unbearable. This was not a moment for taking offense but for practicing patience and understanding. This was a frightened, still wounded man, trying to protect the woman he loved.

I reached up, pressed my palm to his cheek and stroked a line across those deep, painful looking indentations. Saw the fear flash through the recesses of his eyes as the gunshots continued snapping in the background like the belligerent backfiring of the old clunker that used to make the rounds in the neighborhood I was growing up in.

“I’m kind of in the midst of it whether I wanna be or not, John.” I gave him a look, inviting him without words to remember the me that had been much more than the one that had succumbed to Marowski’s abuses. The me he had travelled at the side of for an entire year. The gunning down of Super Mutants, Raiders, Death Claws and the like. The one who had survived the horrors of the Rolling Ranch. The one who had saved his life on any number of occasions. “Come on. Aren’t you in the mood for a good fight? Been a while since we strutted our stuff.”

Though I’m certain he wasn’t the least remiss of my capabilities, Hancock still looked as stubborn as an ornery Brahmin bull in the peak of mating time; wanting nothing more than to launch on into the lady cow’s enclosure and ignore the demands to shift on over into an adjacent pasture.

“No. I’m feeling more of a lover right now, Munch.” He stated, affirming my thoughts on the matter all too well. He waggled a finger in the vague direction of the far-left wall; where the shots had mercifully started receding into the background. Must have been drifting further into the alley. “Besides, we’re tryin’ to keep as much as this from public eye as possible. I go and get involved, it gets bigger than Ben Hur…”

I lifted my brow at him; peered out from underneath it. Another one of my tried and routinely practiced wife expressions. One of those ‘Come on now’ sort of looks that used to send Nate shooting for the hills whenever I trotted it out.

“Babe, you and I haven’t had a good scrap together in ages.” I winked, lightening the severity of the expression just enough to keep from sending him skittering. “Ain’t we long overdue?”

He looked at me, long and hard; the shots in the background continuing intermittently and in such a way that made me suspect that the fracas was far from being resolved. I think Hancock too, in spite of being almost paralyzed with fear for what might happen to me, was thinking back to all those times we had fought at one another’s sides and the high that we had gotten from coming away with our butts intact. It was a feeling unrivalled in context; overcoming the odds as a team and making it out the other side for a drink and an evening long rehashing of all our favorite dot points. How close _this_ had been, how good a shot _this_ had been, etc.

As I suspected he might, the age-old brawler in Hancock won the internal battle and he relented with that sharp and brash grin I hadn’t seen for well over a month. That hungry, eager flash of the teeth that said some serious whoopass was coming someone’s way.

“Girlie, you sure got a way with words I ain’t sure I like…” He said, reaching back and sliding the knife from his holster. He pressed a fingertip to the point; smirking at me from over the flashing edges of the lethally sharp blade that I had first seen in action by the gates of Goodneighbor. “I’m usually the one makin’ folks feel powerless with a clever turn of phrase.”

“Isn’t that why _I’m_ your Queen?” I teased, leaning up to plant a kiss to his mouth; feeling way too corny with using this word but getting the feeling that he might like it. “Besides –” I said, making my way over to the still swinging door and flashing a smile over my shoulder. “– isn’t the Queen the most powerful piece on the board? High time I started taking out some pawns, huh?”

The fierceness of Hancock’s return smile suggested that he sure as hell liked what he had heard and without a moments further hesitation he limped over and preceded me out through the doorway and down into the shadows of the alley. There were only a spattering of lights lining the walls but we needn’t have concerned ourselves with lighting the way. Flashes from a number of guns firing off was illumination enough.

I took a moment to focus my bleary eyes and catalogue the scene. Adrian and Ryan were crouched behind a dumpster that was pressed against the far-right wall; each reloading their Trench-sweepers. Pattie was crouched behind a bunch of assorted boxes and random odds and sods to the left; leaning over every few moments to fire a round or two off down the alley. Accompanying volleys of consecutive fire kept them at bay; the rounds peppering the sides of the boxes, dumpster and the wall in between both. My best guess was that the boys had bailed up some of the Triggermen (if you saw how these guys railed off with their firearms, you would understand how apropos the name was) but were having a devil of a time executing their arrest.

Shielded by the wall of the alley, Hancock and I jogged up as quickly as possible. He called out to Pattie and made a cutting gesture across his throat as the Watchman turned to glance up at him.

“Pattie! Get out there and make a distraction before the visitors notice!” Hancock held out his right hand and snapped his fingers hurriedly. “Need one of the pistols, kid.”

It was a mark of the intrinsic respect that the boys had for Hancock that they didn’t give him shit when circumstances called for seriousness. Pattie didn’t talk back, waste a moment with pointless questions or defend his right to stay and fight with the others. He responded instead with a calm and reverent, “Right”, and tossed Hancock the pistol in his right hand. Hancock, being unrivalled in the department of hand eye coordination, caught it easily and dropped the magazine to check what rounds remained. Pattie tossed a spattering of bullets his way and Hancock clocked them in; knocked the magazine back into place with the heel of his hand and then drew the slide back for a glimpse of the round being retracted from the chamber. God… gotta love a man who knows his stuff.

Pattie evicted two additional boxes of rounds from his pockets, sending them skidding along the ground to rest between Hancock’s feet. Satisfied that Hancock had munitions enough to met his needs, Pattie flashed a cheery salute as he clambered out of his crouch and bounced into the alleyway to join us.

“Rotsa Ruck.” He called, holstering his remaining pistol before hurtling off into the brightly lit street of beyond; feet slapping a rousing staccato against the cobblestones. Hancock gave a bright and cheery wave of the pistol in Adrian and Ryan’s direction and they both glanced over; returning an amusingly relaxed nod in response.

“Nice night for it.”

“Heya, boss.” Adrian replied calmly, resting with his back against the side of the dumpster as he loaded fresh rounds into the .45’s drum magazine. He jerked his chin in my direction. “Heya Munch. Havin’ a good date so far?”

“Been lovely, thanks darl.” I said casually, moving into position behind the boxes Pattie had just vacated and tilting my head to the side; showing off my new adornments. “See these earrings John bought for me?”

Ryan leaned about Adrian’s massive girth, fired a volley of rounds and then ducked back out of sight. He lifted the brim of his hat and squinted his eyes in my direction; letting out a low whistle of approval when he got a good enough look as the dim lighting would allow us.

“Wow. Look super cute on you, girl. Hancock honey, you be pulling out all the right stops.”

“Well, thanks Ryan. How you been? I was meaning to catch up with you when I got into town but… time just gets away from a dame, you know.”

Ryan gave a shrug of his broad shoulders, reaching up to tuck an errant strand of salt and pepper shaded hair behind his ear. Though not as universally handsome as Pattie, Ryan had this lovely ‘bear’ quality about him. His hair beneath his hat was cut neat and short along the sides, whilst the top was composed of longer, thicker waves that he traditionally tamed with pomade. He had a tight, neatly styled shade of a beard with lines so deftly maintained they looked as though they had been drawn on by a Tattoo artist. His chest was broad, shaped like a barrel and the remainder of his body equally stocky; such that you just wanted to wrap yourself around him and have a good old cuddle.

He also had very pretty eyes; deep set and thoughtful looking, with nice thick lashes. A serious looking, introspective man for the most part but very kind, in spite of the sadness you could sense broiling beneath the surface. Though if half of what Hancock had told me was true, you could understand why he would have struggled such as he did. Growing up as a gay man in the Goodneighbor of old; being made to suffer any number of indignities and violence… Poor darling. Far too much unhappiness for someone only in their mid-thirties to be carrying around.

“Lot of that going around, honey.” Ryan sniffed, using the opportunity between gunfire to knock a few more rounds into the Thompson’s magazine. “Be a Martini after we snaggle this lot, don’t you worry about that.”

“Who’ve we got?” Hancock yelled, as another volley peppered the wall to our backs; punching black welts into the brickwork. “Anyone important?”

“Just a few of the more resilient hangers on.” Adrian responded, leaning around, squinting down the line of the firearm and returning fire. He cursed and swung back out of striking range; having apparently missed his target. “We caught ‘em down here tryin’ to turn the pockets of some poor tourist. Managed to get the visitor out but then these guys went and got nasty when we tried ta pull ‘em inta custody.”

“Well, no one likes goin’ to the slammer very much.” Hancock flinched as the Triggermen sent another return wave in our direction; sending a cardboard box flipping up into the air and shaving shreds of brown confetti that rained down on us in an impromptu celebration. “Jesus, how much ammunition they got up their sleeves?”

Ryan pitched another torrent down the alley and retreated back behind the dumpster, grunting with palpable annoyance. “More than I woulda thought possible, boss. Startin’ ta think these boys were expectin’ trouble; given their round outage.”

“Well, hardly be surprised.” I muttered, distracted by the thought that my shorts must have been riding indecently high when crouching like this. They felt like they might have been pinching into the sides of my recently ripped clean vagina; aggravating the still tender skin. Attempting to adjust them would only draw more attention to their licentious behavior however, so I resisted. “Considering.”

Hancock’s head lilted to the side as music piped up from the main drag; a clashing of instruments forming a sound that I joyfully recognized as being the nigh forgotten strains of Rock and Roll. Smart boy. The sound would be loud enough to drown out much of the noise from the firing of the weapons. Something like Jazz would have permitted dips and falls between the singing sections; with the instrumentals being soft enough to permit the bleed through. Airheaded though he behaved sometimes, Pattie was not without his resourcefulness. Unless of course he simply preferred rock as a personal choice and this had been his only consideration whence choosing a number.

“Whatever the case, we gotta cap these bastard’s quick.” Hancock said, sliding his hand along the ground and bringing the clips Pattie had left behind closer to where his feet were stationed. “‘Fore we got a whole bunch of curious look-see-ers stickin’ their beaks in here and gettin’ em blasted off for their efforts!”

Ryan tilted his head back and moaned his irritation to the star speckled sky. “Man, this shit is really pissing me off!” He drew in a long breath through his nose, big chest expanding before, with a sort of combination scream-grunt, heaving himself out from behind the dumpster. He levelled the Organ-Grinder at his hip and walked in a straight line towards the other end of the alley, finger pinned tight to the trigger as he went. He panned the barrel about indiscriminately, bullets ricocheting about unpredictably and sending fedora donned heads ducking for cover. The old ‘Pray and Spray’ for which he had earned his prodigious reputation. “ _Suck it up, you bunch of fucking princesses!! COME ON!!”_

Ryan was good at his job, which was the main reason Hancock had made him an Enforcer alongside the bloodthirsty might of Meyer. But it wasn’t the _only_ reason. Ryan, so it was rumored, was unafraid of death and had joined the Watchmen because he simply did not believe that he had any other reason to continue living. So I was told. It had made him an indisputable force; simply because he was prepared to step into dangerous situations that others felt ill prepared for. 

It wasn’t fearlessness, so much as lack of love for himself. Hancock had recognized it because he himself had been of similar mindset. The difference was that Hancock had found some semblance of happiness, but for Ryan, it always seemed to elude him. This was what I had garnered through my conversations with the man, at least.

A man who I wasn’t prepared to see throw away his lot just yet. Not when things seemed to be finally getting on track with this town; with opportunities popping up at every turn. He might have a chance still at happiness but not if he got himself killed being reckless like this. So, perhaps hypocritically so, I threw my hat into the ring and surged out from behind the box; alighting to Ryan’s side as he continued his advance. I levelled the .44 at the assortment of trashcans and garbage the Triggermen were crouched behind, steadied it between both hands and squeezed back the trigger. The cacophonous ‘ _BOOM, BOOM, BOOM’_ of the hand cannon seemed to shock the ever-loving shit out of them and they kept their asses firmly wedged behind their meagre defenses.

“Come on!! What you got, ya bunch of Marowski ass kissing toadies?!” I yelled, darting about in my brain for words I thought might just be suitably bad ass enough to back up the awesomeness of the weapon I held. You wouldn’t think such a thing would be difficult for a lawyer, would you? “You think you’re bad, you little pricks?! Get on out here and… tango you… _punk-ass bitches_!”

Thank God Hancock was less than half a step behind me, because I gained back some of the cool points I had just lost, simply by being in close proximity to the epitome of sophistication that was Goodneighbor’s mayor. He aimed Pattie’s pistol at the indentation in the wall where one of the Triggermen was crouched and landed two shots that came closer than anything any of us had managed thus far.

“Come on! At least try!” He yelled, turning sparking eyes on the three of us; Adrian having since joined the fray. “Advance on ‘em! Don’t run scared. They poke their heads up; I’ll cap ‘em!”

We advanced as instructed, the four of us taking turns discharging our weapons, whilst others reloaded. In amongst the yelling, the deafening crash of bullets, the snapping and schnicking of clips being ejected and replaced, I felt so profoundly the resonate sensation of actually _belonging_ to something. Of being _part_ of something, much greater than myself and for the first time in my entire life of being absorbed so easily into it. As though I was always meant to have been here. To have been a part of this, to have _been_ one of them. This exclusive little group of gutsy freedom fighters, these amazing men who had fought and struggled and sacrificed everything to have reached this point.

It was like… being part of a pack. A feeling I’d had when I’d come together with my friends to defend ourselves at the penultimate showdown at the _Rolling Ranch_. The feeling was the _same._ The four of us, being badass together. Having an intrinsic, almost telepathic connection; knowing when to step forward and cover as one reloaded, trusting them enough to step in front when you needed to do the same. All without words. Risking life and limb with every second we advanced down that long alleyway but so flush and high with adrenaline pumping through every nerve ending; bolstering each taut muscle in my body. It felt incredible. Stupid too, considering how much Hancock and I had had to drink but I wouldn’t concern myself with such a thing until later; after all was said and done.

With less than twenty or so feet between us and the Triggermen’s barricade, one of them threw caution to the wind and risked pitching himself out from behind the wall to put an end to our advancement. Adrian and Ryan were reloading and the Triggerman’s gun panned over, seeming to move in slow motion, intending I think to fan across the collective lot of us. My heart slammed my chest in shock; my finger thumbing down on a chamber that clicked over the empty slot. Oh God… major, major missight. I hadn’t counted the last round _down;_ too preoccupied with my idealistic thoughts.

But if anyone can be counted on to keep track of the numbers, it’s Hancock. His bullet took out the Triggerman’s right arm, snapping it back from the trigger as though his fingers had come into contact with boiling water. A second later, Ryan’s own bullets took his legs right out from under him; sending him crashing face first into the dirty, butt ridden cobblestones. The remaining two bolstered their nerve and surged out in response to the felling of their brother. One of them, a medium sized chap without any truly distinguishing features, bounced out from behind the trash cans to our left. He was close and I was all about the close contact.

I struck first the side of his arm and then his face, slamming my foot into his knee so that it cracked wetly to the side; the cap snapping loose from where it had been sitting. As he stumbled, shrieking in such a way you would think puberty had bypassed him entirely, I elbowed the side of his jaw as hard as I could manage; sending him skittering across the ground. His hands loosed about his gun and I held his wrist tight, smacking it out of his limp fingers and tossing it back behind us and far from the reach of any others that might have been lurking in the shadows.

“No sugar for you, honey.” I said, flashing a wink before driving that same elbow down into the small of his spine, sending the poor fella’s face hard into the stone floor and deep into the valley of unconsciousness. “Night-night, little lamb.”

The remaining Triggerman lurched out, inadvisably so given that Hancock was waiting eagerly for him with a look on his face that had sent undoubtedly braver men searching for cover. He lashed out, whipping the encroaching pin-striped offender across the jaw and sending him spinning off like a drunken ballerina into Adrian’s waiting arms. A snapped wrist later and lots of screaming to accompaniment and the Triggermen found himself gun free and foisted up against the wall as though he were little more than a mildly attractive canvas print, being positioned just before the nail was pounded in. Adrian’s big, beautiful and inarguably powerful hand was wrapped about the man’s face like a mask and it said a lot as to his strength; for this was all that was required to keep him suspended off of his feet.

“Move-” He hissed, at long last displaying that threatening tone I knew he must have squirreled away somewhere beneath his usual gentlemanly demeanor. “-and I’ll bust your fuckin’ skull.”

The scene under control, I took a moment to catch my breath; tucking the .44 back into my bag and scrambling up off of the man I knocked into the ground. I rubbed my elbow, which throbbed under duress of the nerve I had pinched; watching as Ryan used snap ties to bind the two still conscious men, who were groaning with pain.

I looked at Hancock and he stared back at me; the both of us breathing heavily. I looked at his hat; knocked off kilter and his shirt all ruffled and half-hiked up out of his pants. The adrenaline came to a head; our passions only further exacerbated by the fight itself and we went to one another, arms wrapping tight about our bodies, pulling and kissing hard and deep. I mauled and grasped the clammy hillocks of his shirt and Hancock dropped Pattie’s gun so that his palms could slide and press and lightly scratch the bare line of my back; could grip and clench a fistful of my hair and massage my scalp with palpable, desperate longing. Our tongues tangled, devoid of all poise and purpose; lost amidst our frantic desire to simply dispense with the pretense and devour one another. I felt a tight, fluttering sensation in my clit; the same as I’d felt that afternoon in Hancock’s sitting room and pressed tighter to the hot, firm lines of his body. My mind burbled within murky confines; aware that we weren’t alone but responding to a long denied, resonate impulse that simply would not abide. All my previous consternations forgotten, I acknowledged that yes. _Yes. God,_ I wanted him _so bad…_

“You pair of fucking little sicko’s” Ryan’s exasperated sigh broke through my void of blissfulness and drew me back to the brink of a reality I would much rather have not been a part of just then. “Did that shit actually turn you on?”

Hancock broke our kiss, no doubt fighting against his own base instincts in doing so and leaned about me to look at Ryan; his hands still pressed firm to my body. “Oh, come on. What man wouldn’t be turned on seeing his lady act a total bad bitch?”

“Um, _this_ man.” Ryan feathered a hand through the air, using his knee to keep the swearing, irritated looking Triggerman pinned to the ground. “Though the question begs why I’d even have a woman in the first place…”

Adrian chuckled as he knelt to bound the Triggerman that I had knocked unconscious. “Maybe you’re holding her hostage in exchange for her hot brother?”

Ryan laughed and nodded, conceding to the point. “Now _that_ has an iota of truth to it.”

Having been momentarily distracted from one another, Hancock returned now his attention to me; leaning his face against mine, his breath continuing to puff out in short, sharp bursts. I pressed my hands to either side of his jaw, my lungs jarring with their own efforts to bind sufficient oxygen to my blood stream.

“You okay?”

I managed to slip a little sigh somewhere in there between the phlegmy, rattling gasps; reaching up on my tiptoes to press a kiss to the space between his eyes. “ _If the boys weren’t here,_ ” I whispered, brushing my thumbs across the thin lines of his lips. _“I’d throw you right down on this alleyway floor and ride you like a mad Brahmin._ ”

He moaned softly, desirously. “More’s the damn pity.” Hands gripped tight about the cheeks of my bottom, giving me a good squeeze as his mouth claimed mine. The lightest, grazing brush of lips and tongue; of promises made with every intention of being carried forth. “Just… give me a… minute, love?”

“I’m a hangin’.” I said, smiling and giving him a good pat to the ass as he turned to make his way back towards the boys. He hesitated; just the slightest misstep which made me think he was fighting the urge to turn around and slam me up against the wall. Given the circumstances, he naturally resisted but with an impatient, longing groan that plainly suggested he too wished we were alone. Business before pleasure, as they say. Especially when business was as serious as this.

“You be careful with that, boss.” Ryan warned, as Hancock drifted up to his side; checking over the pistol that Pattie had loaned him. “Boy’ll chuck a fit you go and mess up one of his ‘twins’.”

“Don’t I know it. Which one is this? Helen? Nessie?” Hancock pondered, twisting the pistol about from side to side; giving it as good a once over as he had my figure earlier that night. He tapped a finger to an imperceptible (at least to me and my shitty eyesight) marking on the firearms side. “Ah, good old Whorey Helen. Should’ve known… he doesn’t give up Nessie very easy.”

Having established the pistol’s identity, for what that was worth, Hancock directed the nose of it at the man currently pinned beneath Ryan’s knee. I kept my distance; not wanting to interfere with Goodneighbor business; especially given my limited understanding as to how Hancock and his Watch went about conducting it. I lit up a cigarette and leaned against the wall; hoping the nicotine might help bring my adrenal levels down.

“I imagine you boys are probably sick of hearing this by now, but I’m gonna keep on askin’ til I get an answer.” A loud, metallic ‘SCHNICT’ as Hancock pulled back the safety. Chambered the round. “ _Where’s_ _Marowski_?”

The Triggerman was riding a wave of pain; gunshot wounds to both arm and leg and losing blood quickly. Too much time dallying with the details and he risked bleeding out; especially if an artery had been compromised… No… no, he would likely already have passed out if that were the case. And the wounds certainly didn’t look as though they were jetting blood; not that way an arterial wound would have done.

“I don’t… I don’t know where he’s at!” His voice thick and heavy; crushed by the agony as an empty can in a drunk man’s fist. He seemed to be only barely clinging to consciousness. “I need… God, I need the doctor!”

Hancock sighed, the slightest marring graze of irritation scraping across his words like a knife with too little butter set to a piece of dry toast. He used the barrel of the pistol to scratch a spot on his cheek. “What’s with all this lack of imagination I’m runnin’ up against today?” He queried, before hiking up his good leg and slamming his foot down hard on the Triggerman’s arm; right onto the dark black spot in which the bullet had entered. If I hadn’t known him capable of such acts of cruelty, it might have shocked me more to see him behaving this way but as it was; I knew Hancock was capable of a lot worse. And he was a very angry boy right now. Wanting justice for what Marowski had done to both his town and the person that he loved. It wasn’t my cup of tea but I knew better than to interfere. This was one of those few situations in which he would not tolerate back talk from me.

The Triggerman responded much as you would imagine; with an unappreciative scream and an attempt to yank his arm free, which only incited Hancock to double his weight, until he was leaning just about every last ounce of himself onto the spurting wound. To add further insult to injury, Hancock twisted his boot from side to side, likely rending the skin and muscle apart further. Perhaps driving the bullet itself deeper, if it had remained interred within the arm. The Triggerman was gulping, retching. He might have reached across with his remaining arm but Ryan was holding it down. His and Adrian’s faces remained impassive. This scene was all too familiar to them. I focused harder still on my cigarette; the tremors continuing to lay siege to my hands and fingers. Ash broke free from the tip, much sooner than it might have done if I hadn’t been shaking so hard. I went over in my mind what I needed to do for dinner; how I would arrange the plate. Wondered what cocktail Hancock had thrown together for us…

“Dig a little deeper, son.” He was saying in the background. The Triggerman was sobbing; begging. I wondered if the salad dressing might have leaked from its container when Codsworth had lugged the cooler halfway across town. Jesus… would have made a right proper mess. “Thinkin’ you gotta have some idea, right? This is the guy who cashes your cheque’s, after all.”

“Hancock.”

He lifted his head and stared at me, perhaps sensing the seriousness in my voice as I eased away from the wall and made my way over to join them. I stared down at the Triggerman’s distraught, mucus smeared features; the blood pooling around his arm and leg. His eyes looked dim; distant. Trying perhaps to divorce himself from the pain, or alternatively going into shock. He had a gold band on his ring finger.

I reached into my bag and took out the small parcel of tissues I had stored in there (a quintessential when a lady’s gonna be getting herself some) and, to the boys not at all subtly disguised disbelief, started to clean up the Triggerman’s face. He flinched back at first; uncertain as to what my intentions were and then after a moment, leaned in to the touch; eyes closing even as tears continued to bead upon his lashes. When he was as tidy as I could make him, I took the cigarette out from between my lips and pressed it against his own. Slightly surprised, he took a few puffs. Wouldn’t have taken much of the edge off but better than nothing.

“Munch.” Hancock said, his tone firm and with more than a slight edge of a warning to it. I knew it wasn’t wise to be stepping in like this but I ignored him for the moment; keeping all my attention focused on the pained man in front of me. After all, Hancock may have had a decade’s experience running a dangerous town but I was hardly a neophyte when it came to convincing people of an alternative viewpoint.

“Now that we’ve all calmed down; why don’t you and I have ourselves a little talk, okay?” I said, flashing what I hope was an encouraging smile. “After all, those wounds are only gonna continue bleeding out and I don’t think a one of us has got the supplies necessary to treat you. So, the sooner you talk, the sooner you get to the doctor. Okay?”

He gave a small, jerking nod; evidence enough that he understood. I kept my smile pinned on, nodded my own response and then jerked my thumb over my shoulder at Hancock; who had been kind enough to have taken his foot off of the mans wounded arm.

“Okey-dokey. Now, I think your Mayor just asked you where your boss is at. Surely one of you has some idea.” I threw this one out his buddy; who had remained intractably silent whilst his comrade had been violently worked over. “I mean, you can’t all be as stupid as Marowski, right? Who’d wanna go throwing their life away for that piece of shit? Work with me here boys, come on.”

The Triggerman that Adrian had firmly pinned to the wall, barked a dismissive sounding laugh. It was a split-second decision but one I knew I needed to make correctly if I intended to earn my place in a town renowned for eating the weak alive. I jerked to my feet, reached into my bag and whipped out the .44 with more finesse than I thought myself actually capable of. It was empty but I went ahead and pinned back the safety all the same; jamming the barrel square against the condescending little prick’s jugular. I peered along the line of it; tried my hardest to force my brows down into a severe expression that would let him know beyond doubt that I was serious.

“Keep that up,” I said, pushing the barrel in a little harder so that it would likely leave a bruise to the thin layer of skin. “And I’ll blow your voice box straight out the back of your neck.”

I’d kept my voice steady and my expression so deliberately poised that I could feel a strain taking root between my brows. But my hand still trembled slightly and I think the Triggerman picked up on it. He stared me down, swallowed in the shallowest means possible and chanced a smile; somehow still playing it cocky with a hand cannon in his face and the brute, bone crushing strength of Adrian at his back.

“Lady… you don’t got half the guts it’d take to pull that trigger.”

Ah… well _this_ was where he had it wrong. And I think he knew this the second the words had left his mouth and my response was to keep that happy little smile pinned to my face and the barrel to that bony peak of his neck.

“Pulled it on worse bastards than you. And who’s to say I wouldn’t be granting you a mercy if I did?” I once more jerked my thumb back at Hancock; whose expression I couldn’t even begin to take a gander at. “You’d prefer I let _him_ at ya? I can tell ya, right here and now, he’s not feelin’ all too charitable towards you boys.” I raised the barrel just enough to tap him beneath the chin. “Come on… be a sport.”

“I’d be thinkin’ good and hard on that, boyo.” Ryan chimed in and I felt my chest relax some. Knowing I had his support was validation enough that I was doing well. That perhaps Hancock wouldn’t be too cross with me for butting in such as I had. “I’ve seen the boss get mighty creative through the years.”

“The Roman’s would’ve _dug_ me.” Hancock remarked from somewhere at my back and the humorous bend to his tone was affirmation enough that he wasn’t concerned. Oh, thank God. Last thing I needed to deal with was a sulky Hancock; glaring at me like a petulant child across the dinner table and flicking bits of crust across the place settings whenever I looked away.

The Triggerman had morphed very quickly from haughtiness to disconcertion; his gaze flashing between myself and Hancock so quickly that his pupils were little more than a blur. “Look… ya want me ta tell ya I’m shittin’ myself? Ya got me. I’m scared, a’right?! I don’t want no beef with ya.” He patted his hand against his hip pocket. “That Marowski guy just puts caps in our pockets. I got no idea where the dumb cunt’s gone ta ground. I swear to God.”

“Don’t waste your breath on prayin’ to someone who ain’t listenin’.” Hancock snapped, clearly unmoved by the profession. “God left Goodneighbor behind a long time ago.” He limped over and hissed in the Triggerman’s ear. “You just thank your lucky stars I need all you bastards alive. Be cappin’ ya one after another if I didn’t want Marowski so bad.” He flipped a hand towards the mouth of the alleyway; expression pinched with disgust. “Get ‘em outta here.”

As Ryan and Adrian manhandled their charges out of the alleyway, I loosed a long, trembling sigh; setting the .44 to rights before returning it to the confines of my bag. I’d lost what remained of my cigarette; it had flown from my hand when I’d swiveled on the jackass that had been giving my lip and I hadn’t a clue as to where it had gone.

“Oh my God, my heart’s pounding so _fast._ Can’t believe I managed to pull that outta the back pocket, can yo-” Whatever else I’d been intending to say was cut off by Hancock grabbing my face between both hands and driving me hard against the stone wall of the alley. I thought for just the split of a second that he was furious with me for stepping in and was making a big Goodneighbor point of it but then his lips were on mine and he was kissing me with such passion that my toes curled in on themselves. Though initially startled by his approach, I all too easily succumbed to his seductions and wrapped my arms about his shoulders; sliding my tongue over into the anticipatory awn of his mouth. We softly moaned our desires to one another; hands stroking and exploring indiscriminately.

“I’m so proud of you…” Hancock breathed, pressing a kiss between my eyes before trailing his lips down to lightly feather across my collarbone. His fingers drifted up under the billowy folds of my top and I groaned quietly, pressing the back of my head to the cool alley wall as he palmed the curve of my breast; his thumb rubbing the indentation of my cleavage. He didn’t try to worm his way in under the fabric of my bra but sure as shit got a good feel of me all the same. “After everything that happened, you can still be kind. And then… then you go and pull something like that! Ya did… ya did good. Ya did _real_ good…”

I chuckled nervously; heat dispersing through the rungs of my body as Hancock’s fingers drifted away from my breast and into the small of my back. His lips caressed my pulse point before dropping to below the collarbone; ghosting across the bolstered peaks of my tits. So tight were we pressed together, that I could feel the bulge of his erection against the zipper of my shorts. He was certainly using the contact to his advantage; his pelvis rotating gently, almost instinctively against my own. In just the right place too, if the pinching of my groin was anything to go by. Hard to get all worked up when your bare back was pressed against the gritty wall of a dank old alleyway though. Getting busy in the outdoors had never been my cup of tea.

“Hey, hey… let’s not go celebratin’ too soon, huh? We might not be alone down here, after all.” This gentle reminder seemed to rouse some of the steam from his skin and he stepped back, casting his gaze between the rear of the alley and the entryway. I took the opportunity to straighten myself up, catch my breath and slip the wine bottle out of the recesses of my bag. I knocked back a good old slurp; nearly emptying the thing in the process. My fingers still trembled. When would they stop? “Phew… needed that. Want some?”

“Won’t say no.” He replied, surprising no one as he took the bottle by the neck, like some poor old dead mallard and sculled the last remaining mouthful. He tossed it into a bin as we exited the alleyway and brought me to a halt; taking my hand now in his and giving me that familiar, somewhat crooked smile. “So, uh… you still wantin’ ta look at those little Quackers or can we just…?”

In spite of the tremors still rippling stalwartly beneath my skin, I felt in a very tender mood most suddenly and not the least interested in waylaying our evening any further. Passions aside, I was still tired from the previous weeks journey and if we kept dawdling about the fete, I’d have nothing in the way of energy come the… main event. Though I’m quite certain Hancock meant to have both hands fastened firmly to the rudder, I still wanted to show a Schoch of enthusiasm.

“Well, we’ve still got all tomorrow… right?”

“Assuming we survive it.” Hancock quipped, though his eyes resonated their longing and impatience in a way that his attempt at humor wasn’t quite able to conceal. I brushed my hand over his cheek; feathered the lines beneath his eyes with my thumb.

“Rather die smiling in your arms than knee deep in a bunch of fluffy ducks, darlin’.” I murmured, cinching my lips into a smile just so as to not overlay the moment with too much fluff. “Though it is a bit of a toss-up.”

“Hey, I’m just glad I win out.” He palmed my wrist and turned to kiss the inside; drawing back a deep breath through his nose. Eyes closing to savor that scent he professed to enjoy. “Anyhow, let’s get our asses to dinner.”

He led me by the hand over to the stage, where Pattie and a dark-skinned fellow with an impressive head of curly black hair were singing and dancing to some loud, up tempo rock and roll number; accompanied by several unknown persons playing instruments in the background. I hadn’t taken much notice on the way past but it really was a fantastic set up. Did these poor boys really lug all this shit over from the other side of the _country?_ Damn, they must really have enjoyed visiting Goodneighbor if that’s the case. A credit to the township really.

“Best wait for the boy to finish up his routine.” I said, bopping my head along to the music and watching as Pattie whipped his little butt around the stage with such ease you would think he’d shot from the womb with a spring in his step. He was one of those terrible people who were such a natural when it came to a physical expression of musical appreciation. Not only in that the movements of his body were so fluid and precise but that he made great eye contact with the crowd, his smile never faltered and he always looked certain about what move he was going to next pull off. A show-pony, indeed. Hancock had been right to put him on distraction duty. Most women in the crowd were hard pressed to take their eyes off of him. Quite a few of the men too, come to think of it.

Hancock sighed, something of an envious expression on his face as he watched the pair of on stage thrashing about with the untroubled verve and grace of the able bodied. Poor guys hip was really starting to get to him. “Yeah. Though I’m thinkin’ about lettin’ him off the hook for the evenin’. Got enough trip wires and traps in place. Shouldn’t need him standin’ watch at the door.”

“I do feel a little guilty about the idea of him just hangin’ out waitin’ for us to… be done.” I agreed, eyes drawn back to the stage as the ‘crowd’ erupted with jubilant cheers and whistles. Ah, of course. Pattie was moonwalking. Who wouldn’t lose their shit at seeing the moonwalk? “Not to mention that a lone Watchmen standing outside of some door is only going to indicate that he’s guarding something. I think we’d be fine, don’t you?”

He smiled down at me; perhaps a little relieved that I had gone ahead and justified something that he’d been hoping to have his way with anyway. “Yeah. Let’s wait for him to finish up and let him know.”

It turns out we didn’t have to wait much longer anyway. One last chorus and then the song was at its end; the guitar rattling out its ear-piercing death rattle to the accompaniment of Pattie worming across the stage like an epileptic caterpillar on PsychoJet. Hancock had taken to rolling his eyes so hard that I was afraid they’d get permanently wedged in the back of his skull. He got an elbow in the side; a reminder to be a good sport and he gave up a few grudging claps as I made up for his lack of enthusiasm with an extra helping of verve, whistling and hootenannying my approval. Pattie certainly looked to be appreciating the attention, bouncing back down to join us after a quick chat with the fella he’d been performing with.  

“Thanks, brother.” Hancock said, spinning Pattie’s pistol about by the trigger nook and extending it to the Watchmen grip first. Pattie shrugged, unconcerned as he reached out to take… what had its name been? Helen?

“No sweat.” He nonetheless checked the firearm over; rubbed away some finger markings that were invisible to plebes such as us, before sliding it back into its holster. Kid looked like a good old-fashioned cowboy with a pistol on each hip like that. Not to mention that it sounded like he was wearing a saddle when he walked. “Saw the boys draggin’ those jokers back over to the Statehouse. Bit of a mess.” He smirked, running the back of a hand over his sweat dappled forehead. “Amari ain’t gonna be happy with you, boss. All the Triggermen she’s needed ta patch up tonight.”

I felt the slightest bit salty over this one and just adrenal fueled enough to make it known. “I should think she finds it a refreshing change,” I snipped, crossing my arms tight over my chest; feeling my lips twitch into a far-right side purse. “From having to patch up Marowski’s _victims_.”

The humor drained from Pattie’s face; his skin shocked pale in the dim lighting of the main stretch. He looked suddenly awkward and to my abject surprise, truly upset. Of course… he _knew._ Just like the others, he had gone and figured it out.

“Hey, look… I didn’t mean nothin’ by-”

I worked a smile out. “It’s okay. Sorry.” I said, raking my hand back through my hair before I could stop myself. Ah, well. No rescuing it now. “Just being a bit precious, hun. You pay no mind.”

“Listen, brother;” Hancock said, drawing Pattie’s attention back towards him and serrating the undertone of the conversation firmly at the neck. “I think we’ll be fine for the rest of the night. Access to the joint is restricted and I’ve got plenty of traps in place. You should just run along and do your own thing.”

“You sure?” Pattie queried, cocking his brow uncertainly. “Don’t know how BC’ll feel about that. Might get a clip under the ear for my efforts.”

“I’ll call him out on the talkie; let him know I let you off the hook.”

Pattie stinted on this a moment; running his palm over the back of his neck, corner of his lip caught between his teeth as he worked the calculations out in his head. Of course, the prospect of freedom and an eager to be laid Curie, won out after the possibility of having a sledge sized boot rammed up his ass. Goodneighbor boy, through and through.

“Can’t lie; wouldn’t mind the chance to chase down that friend of yours again, Munch.” A very cheeky wink casually tossed in my direction. “Work on my, uh, French lessons; as they were?”

“Sounds like she’s just as keen, kiddo.” I said, thinking it quite true and reached across to squeeze his wrist. My voice sincere. “Thanks for being our little Guard Leprechaun tonight. And for stickin’ it to that guy that grabbed my ass.”

He shrugged, as though the matter were nothing that required gratitude or even recognition. “No one messes with our Queen, Munch.” His tone was so matter of fact; almost ‘Well duh’ like in its quality. It made the gesture, in my opinion, only the more touching. “Even if she’s a right proper little shit-stirrer.” He grinned, tipped the lip of his fedora and spun about merrily on his toes, jogging merrily into the night with all the aplomb and mischief of the mythical creature I kept teasing him with. “Later, kids. Have fun, now!”

I waited as Hancock unclipped a black walkie talkie from the rear of his pants (it had been sitting there beside his knife, unnoticed by me this entire time) and put in a call to Adrian. Advised that he had released Pattie from his responsibilities for the remainder of the evening and reminding Adrian to finish up and get on with his own. It sounded like a good slab of people would be rocking up to this BBQ and poor Adrian hadn’t even clocked off for the evening. He’d have a hell of a time getting all that meat cooked before folks started drinking themselves silly.

His call attended to, Hancock returned the talkie to the back of his pants and reached out to take my hand. We smiled at one another; just a passing gesture but one that held much weight for how seemingly simple it was. The awareness of our bodies, the understanding of where we were heading and what was about to transpire. The gnawing feeling in my stomach; more than mere physical hunger. We passed a cigarette back and forth, the tremors starting to ease at long last as the adrenaline worked its way out of my system. Hancock, for all his lovey dovey pretense, remained on point. His head on a swivel the whole time.

“Just keep an eye out.” He reminded me, glancing back over his shoulder as we crossed far into the right-hand side of the newly established Eastern wing. Traced the rear border of the stalls and injected ourselves further still into the shadows that cupped them. “You see anyone you think might be followin’ us, you let me know.”

“Same goes for _you, my_ lover.” I said, easing out a lungful of smoke and staring closely at a vague lump curled up beneath one of the stalls temporary sleep affixtures. With an ill-tempered grunt, the lump rotated about in its blankets, revealing a pinch, moustached face; eyes squeezed so resoundingly shut that it ricocheted wrinkles all the way down into his neck. He didn’t look in any condition to be taking himself to the toilet; let alone stalking Hancock and I to our supposed love-nest. I felt confident that he wasn’t much in the way of a threat.

We made our way further along the lines of the newly disinterred buildings; some of which looked to be in the midst of some serious renovations. I might have shown more interest if my hormones hadn’t been taking up most of my attention. I kept taking discreet and then not so discreet glances at Hancock’s bottom; much easier to admire now that his coat was out of the way. His pants were just tight enough for me to see the firm flex of them as he walked; such prime condition, no doubt, from the simple fact that folks in this time needed to walk everywhere to get anything done. That stairwell in the Statehouse deserved a great deal of credit too. God bless the restoration crew of my time, who thought putting an elevator in there would have ruined the aesthetic!

Having reached the mouth of a narrow, almost imperceptible alley; Hancock paused long enough to take a quick look around before tugging me in behind him so quickly I nearly tottered clean off my heels. Lighting hadn’t been installed down this laneway but I noticed, when glancing up, that the surrounding buildings seemed to be running on electricity. Some of the windows were lit up; narrow pinches of light piercing out from between either gaps in curtains or boards that had been set to the windows for privacy. My curiosity was naturally piqued; for these buildings had not been part of the Goodneighbor I knew. Though my last visit over a month ago had been a stilted affair, with my having departed for Diamond City just as soon as we had dropped Hancock off. There had been no point in sticking around; exacerbating his guilt and depression furthermore. I could tell he was hurting bad and not just physically. It would have been like pulling a sticking plaster slowly from a band of exceptionally hairy skin.

We came upon a door; the same indistinct gray as the surrounding bricks and camouflaged so well as a result that I would have walked right on past it if Hancock hadn’t jerked me back. He took a silver key from out of his waistcoat pocket (one of the inside ones) and knelt down a little; trying to find the keyhole in the darkness. After a bit of poking and prodding and swearing (something I hope wasn’t indicative of things to come) he managed to drive it home and with a firm twist of his wrist; knocked the lock out of place.

“Just a minute.” He said, pocketing the key and keeping me at bay with one hand as he eased the door out into the alley towards us. The room behind was pitch black and I couldn’t see a damn foot past the door jamb. Thank God Hancock had better eyes than me. He knelt down, reached around to the far right and with a few careful adjustments, unhooked something with a click and brought it forward into the light so I could see it for myself. A tripwire. “Okay, come on through.”

He took my hand, guiding me over the slight lip of the doorway and into the somewhat off-putting darkness of the room beyond. I waited, blinking in the gloom as Hancock shut the door behind us, casting out the last remaining revenant of light and locking us in. A ruffling sound, a few taps and another muttered curse and then a narrow beam of light strobing about the room. Hancock handed me a small torch, which I took gratefully and held it angled down so that he could set the wire trap again. Satisfied that everything was in order, he climbed achingly to his feet; giving my shoulder a comforting squeeze as he brushed past me. I turned the light to guide his path.

It was a stairwell; such as you would see in just about any building. It reminded me of the dull steel and concrete structure of the mall in my home town; the one that echoed so resoundingly with just your footsteps alone. God forbid if you talked. It was tidy though; which was a vast improvement form most stairwells I had seen in this time. This suggested that it had been attended to but the fact that there was no lighting suggested that it had been on a strictly ‘need to know’ basis. Perhaps Hancock had done it himself; wanting to keep this place private. That made the most sense.

As I watched, he limped his way up the stairwell; using the adjacent handrail to support his weight as he traversed to the first landing.

“ _Un momento_.” He said, holding out a hand to keep me at bay once more and I waited as he messed with something there on the wall. I kept the light focused on it as he worked and a few seconds later, was rewarded with a clicking sound and a beep that echoed in the vast reaches of the stairwell. Heard that one enough times to be familiar with. A wall mounted explosive. “Okay. Come on up, chicken.”

More and more intrigued by the moment, I eased myself carefully up the stairs and took his offered hand; allowing him to lead me up three more landings. We took our time because Hancock’s leg and hip were obviously giving him grief but I didn’t mind the slower pace. Stairs had never been much fun in my opinion. Great though they were in the glute department, the resultant pinching ache to your joints could be at times excruciating. And I didn’t have a debilitating injury like Hancock did. Though I was wearing high heels, so in some ways, we were both as equally incapacitated.

At the fourth landing, we were confronted by a door that was largely different from the others; namely in that it had a key pad beside it, flashing red. Electricity running to it. As I once more proved my usefulness in being able to hold a flashlight with some semblance of steadiness; Hancock punched in a number with his thumb.

“FYI; it’s the date of the coup.” He whispered, perhaps just as off put by the way our footsteps and voices were echoing about in the stairwell. It was more than a little eerie to say the least. “Day and last two numbers of the year.”

He wasn’t about to see it in the darkness but I smiled gently all the same; patting my hand to the back of his shoulder. “Wasn’t going to ask, hon.”

“I know.” He said, cracking open the door and glancing over his shoulder with another of those charitably warm smiles I was so accustomed to. Though his face looked a little spooky in the torchlight, I could sense his appreciation for… I don’t know; my trust, I suppose? “That’s why I’m tellin’ you.”

He guided me through, locking the door behind us once more. We were in a small room; perhaps an apartment in days long past. There was nothing distinguishable about the room. It was as filthy and grubby and as strewn with as many unwanted castoff’s as any place I had ever been. One thing I did notice however, was a distinct wearing of the mucky old carpet; that drew the eye along the center of the room and towards the window. As we moved closer, I panned the light over the sill and felt a smile stretch across my lips. No dust. When just about everything else in the room was thick with it.

The room was a write off by pure design, it seemed. So, if someone were to somehow bumble their way in here (without losing a leg in the process) they’d likely suspect that there was something hidden in the room and direct all their efforts into taking the place apart, piece by piece. But the room, I wagered, was simply a room. The window itself was the secret, but for what reason I couldn’t inertly tell.

As expected, Hancock lit to my side and after sharing a conspiratorial smile with me (seeing that I hadn’t been fooled by the appearance of the room and likely appreciating the effort I’d put into using my brain) he unhooked a reasonably shiny and clearly maintained latch on the sill and pushed the window open.

“Right you are.” He murmured, turning and leaning over an upturned sofa. He hoisted one half of a long, sturdy plank into view; sitting it up on one end and then using both hands to bring it over to the windowsill. I assisted him, setting one end down and then ever so carefully easing it out into the night. Our goal it seemed, was a matching window in the building opposite us; which was already open and awaiting our infiltration. With a bit of wiggling, jiggling and more than a few choice curse words here and there, we managed to span the length of the alleyway and bridge to gap.

“Okay.” Hancock said, slapping his dusty hands together before perching himself up on the windowsill. “Let’s get wriggling.”

I hesitantly approached the window; leaning out just far enough so as to gauge the distance to the ground. My feet started tingling with pain and my armpits itched as blood started moving about my body to accommodate for the rapid fluttering of my heart. True, the next building wasn’t so far across; I likely could have jumped it if I’d been wearing more sensible shoes. But that drop…

Hancock smiled patiently as I jerked my head back; huffed a breath and started pacing small circles about the room. The torch beam sliced about the ceiling indiscriminately as my hands whipped from the back of my neck, to my mouth, to wipe sweaty palms against the legs of my shorts. Meaghan would have a coronary if she knew but I sure as shit wasn’t about to go wiping my hands on that filthy old sofa.

“The height thing, again?”

“Yes the ‘height thing’ again!” I snapped, wondering how in the blue hell he could just go and forget my massive lifelong phobia concerning me and extended, universally fatal distances from the ground. My exercise to rescue his life after he’d broken his hip notwithstanding. That was a desperate time! To this day, I’m not even sure how the fuck I’d managed to do it. It was a point of great pride for me; matched only by my complete and utter bewilderment in having pulled it off with my underwear intact. “Darl, you know I ain’t good with heights. And all that’s gonna keep me from fallin’ all the way down to the dirty alley below is a piece of wood.” A thought came to me just then and I felt my mouth drop for the utmost absurdity of how such a thing could have physically transpired. “Wait a minute… how did _Codsworth_ get our stuff across here?”

“That’s not the only plank I have set out over here.” Hancock responded smoothly, pointing out over the drop and towards the waiting window; which awned like a great hungry mouth, inviting a piece of food that bobbed ever so slightly out of its reach. “I asked him to use two and to pull them in behind himself until we arrived. Safety reason’s and all that. Besides, windows nice and tall. Reckon anything gets in the way of Codsworth carrying out his _prime directive_?”

I scoffed a little, seeing Hancock’s point but still precariously balanced on the verge of spectacularly wetting myself. There’d be no saving these white shorts if I went and lost control of my bladder and it would definitely put a crimp in our plans for the evening.

But Hancock chose then of all times to be especially charming; leaning back in from the window sill and extending his hand towards me. Like a scene from a romantic movie, he flashed his most debonair smile; eyes glinting in the meagre light thrown out from the torch. Once again, he exerted that immeasurable, imperceptible feeling of calm; directed it down through every bare inch of my being so that I felt pliant and susceptible. Oh God _damn._ When they came up with that word _Charisma_ , they sure as hell must have had Hancock in mind. Trite and overdone though it is, this was a man to whom the word definitely applied.

“Do you trust me?” He asked softly, his voice such a silver-tongued purr that my pants damn near slid off of their own volition. I took a moment to check back in with reality; of the timely difference between idealism and practicality.

“Not you I’m lackin’ the trust in, John.” I stated, steering the torch beam to the base of the window so as to not have it glimpsed from the street below. Last thing I needed was to go and give away our location to any still un-incarcerated trigger-happy Triggermen. “It’s my stupid chunky unco self.”

He chuckled, easing himself slowly down off of the sill and crossing the room to take the torch. He switched it off before then easing my hand into the crook of his arm and tenderly petting it as he guided me back towards the window.

“Come on. It’s a big sturdy plank.” He said, as comforting as my father might have been when encouraging me to challenge myself with the rope swing that spanned the reservation lake. Not caring a jot that I was likely to pee myself the entire time I was airborne. “You won’t fall.”

I swallowed a big old meaty ball at the base of my throat; feeling a lot of that wine accumulating heavy in my bladder and praying to God that wherever we ended up, was somewhere with a latrine. “Um… if it’s all the same with you, I think I’ll just go across on all fours.”

“Well if _that’s_ the case, then _you’re_ going first.” He got a punch to the arm for this one but I was bit too freaked to put much venom into it. “Hey, Ghoul’s gotta get his jollies where he can.”

I gave him a push in the shoulder; so that he near toppled headfirst out the window. Would serve him right for teasing me; so long as the fall wasn’t fatal. _Goodneighbor’s Mayor, reduced to messy pizza as night of passion goes terribly wrong…_ “ _You_ go first and I’ll take up the rear. No pun intended.”

He shrugged, naturally unconcerned as he remounted the sill and ducked his head under the window. “Whatever floats your boat.” He said, a smug little smirk on his face as he eased himself up into a crouch and edged out onto the plank; eyes panning the length of the alleyway for any dangers that might have presented themselves. He looked like a grisly old gargoyle; surveying the streets of a decimated Notre Dame.

Having assured himself that everything was on the up and up, Hancock eased himself onto his feet, extended his arms like a tightrope walker and marched casual as you please across the plank. What a piece of shit. He even had the audacity to perform a couple of smart-assy gymnastic type jumps and poses when he reached the middle; causing the plank to lightly sway and bend beneath his weight. I mean, it was a sturdy enough board and he was hardly husky but god _damn!_

“ _Fucking show off._ ” I muttered, making good and certain my bag was tied tightly about my middle before (with a very wobbly sigh, mind you) easing myself up onto the window sill and out onto the plank. On all fours as promised, with the knobs of my knees aching from the hard press of the wood. The wood which wobbled and lurched as Hancock continued bouncing around on it like a rabbit in mating season. “Would you stop fucking jumping around all over the place, John?! I’m gonna lose all my shit outta the bag!”

He laughed with more happiness than he deserved to be feeling, easing up on the wibbly-wobbly theatrics and crossing the last few feet with the respect and decorum expected of a gentleman who wanted still to get laid at some point in the evening.

“Sorry, love.” He remarked, not sounding the least sorry as he ducked inside the adjacent window. He remained out of sight for a moment, perhaps checking out the interior of the room before popping his head back into view and gesturing for me to continue my crossing. I took my time, far too aware of every awful little wobble in the plank; moving inch by agonizing inch. Overtaken by snails, mollusks and slow-moving amoeba’s alike. When I had finally dragged my sweaty, trembling body close enough, he reached out and wrapped his arms around my chest; tenderly pulling me in through the window and down into his waiting embrace. Okay. That was a _little_ bit cute.

“There ya go, chicken. Good job.”

“God, I’m shaking like a leaf.” I said, brushing strands of hair away from my eyes and picking free a few that had stuck to my lipstick. What remained of it anyway. “This romantic hideaway of yours had better be damn worth it.”

“No pressure!” Hancock laughed, giving my back a quick, parting rub before turning and pulling the plank in through the window. He perched it against the wall beside a matching pair; likely what Codsworth had employed when he made his way across earlier in the evening. Wow. No one was taking any chances of _this_ parade being rained on. And it seriously raised some questions as to how Codsworth had not only hovered over some planks above an alley but how in the hell had he coordinated himself enough to bridge them in the first place? How had he disarmed the traps for that matter? I mean, there was determined and then there was just… wow.

Having flicked the torch back on, Hancock illuminated a room almost identical to the one that we had only just vacated. I hadn’t a moment to appreciate the dust speckled abode (my only passing thought being ‘God, I hope this isn’t where he expects to be getting his end away’) before Hancock was leading me through the upended furniture and out through the adjacent doorway. Which he then locked behind us with the same key he had used earlier. (I presumed that the locks that had been installed were all matching, or else Hancock had in his possession some sort of skeleton key. Again, not the type to take chances.

“Okay. This way.” He whispered, angling the beam of the torch up to reveal yet _another_ flight of stairs. Lord help my aching hamstrings. I could see him smiling in my periphery as I failed to mask a miserable groan; though putting in one hundred and ten percent in the dragging myself up the steps department. I wasn’t about to pull the toddler tantrum and make his assent any more uncomfortable than it already was. Be lucky if the guy could walk in the morning; given the abuse his leg had already taken. And that brace may have helped with the healing but it sure as shit fell through in the flexibility department. Forcing him to swing the limb around like a dead tree branch; no pliability whatsoever. Poor love.

We only ascended one flight however, before stopping at yet _another_ door with _another_ key pad set beside it. Holy _moses._ Hancock’s equivalent of the ‘NO ADULTZ ALLOWED’ signs most kids pinned to their secret hideouts door, clearly. As I took the torch from his hand (knowing my job all too well by now) Hancock thumbed in another passcode.

“Jesus.” I murmured, wiping at the back of my neck as a bead of sweat slid down; tickling all the way. The warm air had thickened within the stairwell to the point that it was like hanging out in a sauna. “This place is bolted up tighter than Fort Knox.”

“You protect what you love.” Hancock said matter of factly and I wondered whether this statement was in reference to myself or the place in which he was taking me. The door eased out with a rush of compressed air and he held it for me; taking my hand and assisting in getting me over the curb without killing myself. “This one is my ma’s birthday. Day and year of birth.”

I chuckled lightly, hand pressed to the side of the doorway to keep my balance as I stepped into the dim white glow of the room beyond. “Don’t think I have that one assigned to memory just yet, possum.”

“We’ll get there.”

We entered now the hallway of what was clearly once a hotel or apartment complex. My eyes widened quite outside of my control, drifting up to the ceiling in a search for the source of the glow and saw the same string of fairy lights that loomed the steel girders of the Third Rail. They lead off ahead of us down the hallway; the hall that had been neatly tidied and frisked of most unwanted debris. Even the long Persian rug, stretching out into the mid distance looked clean and dust free; though still expectantly stained and worn in places. A hallstand was doffed with a white, rectangular vase; crowned with the most beautiful array of wildflowers. Fever blossoms of course, featured prominently.

“Okay. I’m startin’ to feel a little swayed.” I admitted, leaning in to the warmth of Hancock’s chuckle and the light kiss he deposited to the side of my neck. Amazing just how quickly he was learning my sweet spots, the sneaky bastard.

“Don’t go and blow your load on just the hall, love. Come on.”

We followed the string of lights down and around to the left; where they neatly transpired before the doorway of apartment number 76. The copper number plate on the door was almost shiny and appeared as though it was genuinely well cared for. Hancock now magicked out yet another key; the color matching that of the plate I’d just been admiring. It was much bigger than the silver one he had used previously; sort of antiquey. He knelt down slightly, slid the key into the appropriately antiquated looking lock and with a few pervasive jiggles, managed to push back the aged tumblers. (I assumed from the look of it alone that this was the only lock that hadn’t been replaced with something more modern. Questions as to why remained, but I was certain they’d be answered with time).

Having gained access, Hancock depressed the long, curved handle and pushed the door forwards; revealing a room lit with a patently golden glow. He swept an arm out and across his midsection; affecting a servants’ poise whence inviting their master in to the dining room. His smile said it all; how utterly proud, how expectant he was. Like a child showing off his favorite clay creation at the end of a long, arduous day in Kindergarten.

“As the poncy people say; the piece de resistance.”

I stepped past him and into the apartment; my eyes welling not two seconds later. Oh God… could I be any more of a sook? But I just… couldn’t help it. I could no more fight the urge to tear up than I could suppress the urge to draw my next breath. It was a natural, unconscious response. Brought on by the realization and the disbelief in someone having done for me what Hancock had done.

**~**

 


	20. Reawakening: Pt 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Should have added this in before but this chapter contains explicit sexual content. This is your NSFW warning!

**Evelyn Hallows**

_**Goodneighbor - Current Day...** _

The apartment itself was a relatively small affair but would have been considered luxurious for its time. Sporting a reasonably sized sitting and dining area, with an island kitchen to my left and a small hallway branching off to the right, which I imagined concealed the bedroom, bathroom and linen cupboard. (Gotta have a place to store those linens and Abroxo cleaner!) There was a glass sliding door directly opposite where we were standing and though night had cast the view into darkness beyond, the room was warmly lit by yet another generous spattering of fairy lights and stout, fat candles; which perched upon visible service like smug little toads, surveying the inhabitants of a busy fishing pond. A lot of work had clearly gone into restoring the place; work that couldn’t possibly have been carried out in the space of hours. _Years_ of blood, sweat and tears were staining the walls.

Though the kitchen was bare of appliances, the counter top and walls were clean, dusted and in good condition. The sitting area was currently dominated by what was probably the most unique looking bed I had ever seen; sort of like a cross between the head rest of a sofa but fanning out into a circular base; perched upon a slightly raised platform. It was a mattress; this much was obvious. And there were pillows and blankies; silver being the predominant theme. The thing looked sexy as _fuck._ Too sexy for someone like me to be sitting on, let alone being ravaged in. I wondered why such a thing was tucked away here when Hancock could have been showing it off in the Statehouse?

I pulled my eyes away from the bed; taking note of the pictures on the walls. The small, wood paneled bar nearby; surmounted by three modestly sized decanters. Most of which were three quarters empty, I noted. The paint looked and smelt fresh. A narrow bookcase loomed a spattering of surprisingly hefty tomes and one or two photographs; propped up where there was room available to do so.

“Wow.” I mused softly, thinking that Hancock had just gone and ticked a hundred or so boxes just with this location alone. All my irritation with the hike through hell quickly forgotten in light of just what it was he had been leading me to.

I heard the click of the door as Hancock eased it shut behind us; his arms framing my waist a moment later and his chin pressing into the crook of my shoulder.

“Ya like it?”

“Jesus… what’s _not_ to like?” My voice rhetoric as I turned and glanced down over my cheek at his carefully reclining expression. “But uh… _what_ is it, exactly?”

His eyes peered ahead and simultaneously through the room; beneath the modern layers draped upon it and far deeper into the shade of its past. I knew that look well. Sort of a romantic nostalgia; such as it were. Reverence and longing for the sweet, ruby daubed moments that dots the pages of a person’s history.

“This… uh… used to be where Thomas lived.” A tiny catch in his voice, the only evidence that he didn’t feel as cavalier about the statement as he almost succeeded in pretending to be. “In the old days’ he used to… jump the wall… mosey on down this way. Wasn’t in Goodneighbor proper but he liked it that way. Used to come here all the time with the kid. Get high, talk about this that and the other. He was good at that. The talk.”

He took his arms from around me, stepped deeper still into the room and turned; directing his palm towards the ceiling. Face carefully poised in that delicate expression that ever so succinctly kept the grief of nigh irrepressible emotion at bay.

“After he…” His hand fell, one finger swiping self-consciously beneath where his nose used to be. A remembered gesture; not one I had seen often, if it all. “After he died, I… used to just… bundle my ass back here when I needed a quiet moment. Place I could go, to be alone, ya know? Have a teary, go to pieces without all a’ Goodneighbor havin’ a lookie-loo.”

Always such emotion whenever he mentioned Thomas; the man he had once purposefully attempted to pass off as some ‘nameless drifter’ that had dared to stand up to Vic’s goons and was subsequently killed as a result. It was the one aspect of Hancock’s life he hadn’t been so upfront with me about; maintaining an almost Vatican like level of privacy when it came to the man he let once slip had been ‘the guardian angel of Goodneighbor’. I’d known Hancock to be sentimental about some things but Thomas was a very clear ‘hands off’ topic; one he still, until this very day, found too painful to deal with. It made me wonder, genuinely at that, whether there might have been something more to it. I was of the personal opinion, that Hancock wasn’t heterosexual, such as he claimed but pansexual. He seemed the type to really fall for a person’s character rather than their sex. Droolingly fixated on my boobs, notwithstanding.

“Just… talk?” I gently enquired, not wanting to offend him by sounding like I was trying to slip in a cheeky innuendo. Wanting instead to genuinely understand this sensitive and closely cosseted place in his heart; this person who clearly meant so much and yet whom was so rarely spoken of.

Unfortunately, it seemed as though he took it precisely as unintended and gave me a low, withering look in response. One of a man clearly unimpressed with that which had been levelled at him.

“Just because he was gay and I went somewhere alone with him doesn’t mean that we were sneakin’ off to fuck, Evelyn.” He grunted, reaching over and ruffling my hair with less dexterity and civility than was offered to most dishmops. “’Sides; even if I _had_ been queer and interested, there was no way I woulda gone and stepped on Ryan’s toes like that.”

I looked up from beneath a ruined tangle of matted, once perfectly groomed hair. “Ryan and Thomas used to be together?”

An offhand shrug, though he wasn’t closing off the conversation which had to mean progress. “Off and on. Ryan was in love with him. But Thomas… he was always sort of a free spirt.” He smiled and shook his head; that age-old gesture of confounded fondness for another’s whimsies. “Had lots of guys on the go. Had the charisma and the attitude to pull it off as well.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.” I teased, working my fingers down through my hair to untangle the knots that Hancock had wrought throughout it. His smile flashed, unashamed from somewhere beneath the bramble.

“Now you see why we got along so well. Always just felt like Thomas and I were on the same level.” He pursed his lips, stared off across the room. Back there again; ten years ago with Thomas. Toking up and talking of the deep shit. “There was nothin’ fake about our friendship; nothin’ we could hope to gain from one another for our own benefit, ya know? We had nothin’ on offer exceptin’ our conversation.”

“That’s a hard act to beat.”

He came back to the present now; gave me a long, hard, _piercing_ look. “Darlin’, I ain’t _never_ had a relationship like what I have with you. Like what I had with Thomas but…” He smirked audaciously. “-super charged.”

“With perhaps a little more to offer?” I said knowingly, watching his own smile stretch further into the waiting clasp of his cheeks as his eyes stole across my body; lingering on my breasts as expected.

“Indisputably.” He murmured, dishing out one of those big words he stored away in his arsenal for moments such as these. He might have come to me then and indeed looked prepared to do such a thing but was distracted by the sudden emergence of Codsworth; hoovering in from the mouth of the small hallway. I’d been so distracted by our conversation, I’d completely blocked the buzzing of his engine out. Not that this was surprising; travel around with a Mr. Handy long enough and you start taking the constant purring of lubricated components for granted.

“Ah! I see you’ve finally arrived! Welcome!” Codsworth exclaimed, pirouetting about in a proud circle; drawing attention to the interior of the room with a resplendent twirl of his pincer extension. “I trust everything is to your liking, Mayor Hancock?”

I turned and stared at Hancock reproachfully; an expression he returned with the most innocently perplexed pattering of eyelids. “You made _Codsworth_ put all this together?”

Codsworth sprung, without hesitation, to Hancock’s undeserving defense. “No, mum! Mayor Hancock was quite adamant that he do the majority of the work! I’ve simply tidied a few things, ensured that the hot water cylinder and generators are running efficiently and prepped the dining area!”

I eased up on the diatribe I’d been moments away from delivering, unable to avoid the smug, self-satisfied look Hancock tossed in my direction. I felt a bit mean; to simply assume that he wouldn’t have the patience nor skill to pull off something like this. I had after all seen what work he had put into whence transforming the Statehouse. It was something of a relief too; to see just how well he could craft a romantic evening off of his own back. Bodes well for the effort he would be willing to put in come the future; with a child in the equation and more responsibility than he had ever likely been saddled with on his plate.

“Good save.” I said, not quite apologizing as I reached over and pinched my fingers about his cheek. He smirked, batted my hand down and re-ruffled my hair to much flailing and loudly shrieked protestations. With a tinny chuckle of his melodic voice box, Codsworth slid past; the exhaust at the base of his chassis throwing unwanted heat against the column of my leg.

“And now, I shall leave you to your evening.” He chimed, rotating about just long enough for his pincer hand to quickly set about with tidying my hair. Took him all of five seconds to put it back to rights and I uttered a hearty and muchly appreciative ‘thankyou’ as the last of the knots were gingerly untangled. Hancock reached across and tapped Codsworth’s side with his fist.

“Thanks Codsworth. You remember how everything goes on the way back, right?”

“Of course, sir!” The droid exposited proudly, his pincer hand now setting to work with correcting little misdirection’s in my attire that I, daft human I was, had been remiss of. “I shall be the sole of-”

“Discretion. Yeah. You are at that.” I smiled, taking his extension away from the strap of my top and holding it firm between both one hand, whilst gently stroking my palm along the side of his shining chassis. As usual, it was hard to convey just how grateful I was; for _everything_ that Codsworth had done. Need a few more centuries to come close. “Thanks, Codsworth… you know…”

The fan like blades that allowed him to express emotions through his eye stalks rotated inward; creating a look that I think was intended to approximate affection. The gentle pat he left to my cheek with his pincer extension, once I had released my grip on it, said as much.

“All in a days work, Mum.” He said modestly; having short changed himself with the never ceasing work he had performed at my unconscious behest for two centuries past. But of course, he would view this as nothing less than what was expected of a Mr. Handy; linked irrevocably to the service of his master until such a time as his atomic core burned out, or his rusted, ramshackle body fell to pieces. I felt for him. God, he deserved a lot more from life than just hanging around my dull face for however much longer I had on this earth. If I thought I could send him away for his own good, I would attempt to do so but I don’t know if his programming would abide it.

I watched him slip out into the fairy lit hall beyond, bringing the door shut neatly and near silently, behind him. In the wake of his exit, Hancock closed his hand about mine, bringing my thoughts back out of the eternal ether and directing my eyes on up to meet his own. He smiled, gesturing over his shoulder with a jerk of his head.

“Come on. I’ll give you the tour.”

Our first stop was a door situated just adjacent to the kitchen nook. Hancock pushed it open and leaned in to flick a switch to the left of the jam. A cozy little room, decked with white tiles and containing a washing machine (parts exposed and hose disconnected from the wall) a standing sink with steel basin, two ancient looking brooms and equally time challenged mop; fringed by crunchy tendrils of wool.

“Nothing exciting. Just a little washroom.” He pointed out the washing machine; as though the largest object in the room would have been missed by me, otherwise. “Got a washer in there… Thomas used to just dry his clothes with a line he stretched across the balcony.” He rolled his shoulders, glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. “Could get a dryer in here, you wanted…”

I was a little perplexed as to why Hancock was asking my opinion on the matter but figured I’d weigh in all the same. Washing was something I did happen to have my head around, after all. “Oh, I don’t think so. Clothes always smell better when they’ve been air dried. Wind blows through them, airs them out properly.” I waved a hand airily. “I always use to hang my clothes out on the clothes line to dry back… well, you know. Back then.”

He gave a soft chuckle, clearly amused by something I’d said. Sure enough: “Heh… Thomas used to say the same thing. Said he’d rather go to a bit of extra effort and smell better for it.”

“Smart guy.”

“Yeah.” Hancock reached in, turned off the light and shut the door. His expression remained carefully neutral as he guided me now towards the hall. The mention of Thomas had gone and upset him again. See, why he insisted on reminding himself of such sad things I’ll never know. I used this as an opportunity to ask a question I’d had on my mind since long before we’d even entered the building; thinking it might be a good distraction.

“How have you managed to direct electricity to this building? Is the whole place wired or just this apartment?”

Sure enough, his eyes cleared and his mind zipped back to the present with such alacrity you could just about hear the nodes of his brain snapping into place. “This apartment has a generator wired directly to it, situated in the vacant loft above us. The doors that were wired have separate smaller generators located close by that drive power to the number pads. The original owner had most of the shit installed. I’ve just maintained them.” He gave a slightly abashed looking smile. “Well… with help from BC and Ryan. Apart from Fahrenheit, they’re the only ones who know this place is still up and running. Thomas only let a few select folks in on his little hidey-hole.”

“Sounds like he was plenty concerned with safety.” I duh-brained, turning my eyes up towards the ceiling and the empty light socket that was distending from it. Posing more questions in my mind. How did folks of this time make light bulbs? How’d they make _glass_ for that matter? And why hadn’t I thought to ask this before now? It depressed me, to realize just how little I actually knew of the world. Tunnel focus, an existence lived with blinkers on. Priority as to just what was more important. I needed to ask many, _many_ more questions.

“Which wasn’t a bad way to operate in the Goodneighbor of old.” He snorted, disgruntled. Or perhaps… disillusioned would be the more appropriate term. “Or the Goodneighbor of _new_ for that matter.”

To think he had come so far and had done so much, simply for Marowski to cast a shade of doubt upon his successes. I leaned in and rubbed a hand to his shoulder, trying without words to console him; to let him know that he _had_ done well. Goodneighbor was a sight and half improved as to what it had been when I had first bumbled on in through those gates; let alone to what it was when Vic had been in charge. He _had_ to believe that he had made a difference; to keep motivating himself to push forward and continue to enjoy these successes.

Hancock gave a sigh, shut his eyes and smiled as if to chide himself for his moment of weakness. His fingers squeezed mine, his gaze parting to take me in once more.

“S’all right.” He said, sending a light ‘huff’ into the cup of his cheek before steering me back down the short hallway. “Take a look down here.”

As I suspected, there was a linen cupboard situated at the end of the hall; made up of a white sliding door, which Hancock yanked open to briefly expose the storage space. Interspersed with additional sheets that were almost neatly folded and some cleaning supplies that had been stored there. He indicated to a tall indent on the left-hand side; explaining (though I was already aware as to its purpose) that it could be used to store mops and brooms, vacuum cleaner and other similarly tall or bulky items. I in turn remained deeply puzzled by the strange bend that his tour was taking. He was starting to sound like a benzodiazepine dependent Real Estate agent attempting trying to sell some disused condo in the poorer part of town, all whilst furtively concealing blood splatters left by the previous drug fucked tenants fatal knife fight out of sight with strangely placed pictures, rugs and references to the ample storage space and close proximity to the shopping mall and reputable primary schools. He kept casting me these strange, darting glances; as though gauging my reaction at every turn. (Hard pressed though it is to look too deeply impressed with a storage cupboard). I prayed he wasn’t about to go and do something ridiculously over exorbitant and give me the apartment. Though I wouldn’t put it past the stupidly generous bastard.

Having thoroughly appraised and inspected the linen cupboard, Hancock slid it shut and instead opened the door to the right; reaching in to snap yet another switch to the left. The light pinged, flickered and finally snapped on and stayed strong; revealing a small, tidy bathroom. Complete with a toilet (thank god) that wasn’t in one hundred percent ‘like-new’ nick but was obviously well cleaned to an expectedly hygienic standard. There was a floating vanity situated on the left-hand wall; with a nicely shined sink and only slightly finger print marked mirror affixed to the tiles above it. Reflecting in its surface a standard bath/shower set up to the right; curtained by a plain but near pristine looking white shower curtain. A towel rack was screwed to the wall directly opposite where we were standing looking in and sported two matching, plush grey towels.

Piping ran from the sink, toilet and bath into the walls. The walls which themselves were composed of the same matching white tile and grouting as the laundry room. All in all, nothing to go running up and down the streets squalling in toddler like excitement about, but like most of the apartment itself, a clear step above most everything I had seen since landing foot in the Commonwealth.

Releasing my hand (thus permitting me to experience properly the clammy sheen of sweat that had formed between us) Hancock stepped on into the room and twisted the cold tap on the sink. Water gushed out; a strong steady flow and he dashed his fingertips beneath it, as though to prove it were real.

“Water’s connected.” He clarified, turning the tap off and giving his fingers a quick, careless wipe on his trouser leg. “Original owner had plumbing rigged up that connects into the main sewerage system that Goodneighbor runs off of. He also has a hot water cylinder. Access runs through the linen cupboard. Codsworth was good enough to make sure it was working smoothly after he finished setting up everything else.”

“Where does the water come from?” I asked, crossing my arms and drifting into the room; eyes panning across the ceiling. Staining from a few mold spots here and there and some hair line cracks in the plaster (some paint irregularities were earlier repairs had taken place) but all in all, nicely maintained.

“Like most of us it runs off of tank water.” I glanced down to see Hancock’s finger jabbing up towards the ceiling I had only just been inspecting. “He has two medium sized water purifiers situated on the roof. I don’t use this place much, so they’re both nice and full. You can use the toilet if you need to. Wash your hands, take a big bubbly bath, whatever.”

I clasped my hands to my lips, letting out a soft, happy moan at the thought. Smooth bastard knew just how to win me over, that’s for sure. Baths were just one of those little luxuries I used to really enjoy; lost in having moved to Sanctuary Hills, where homes were only outfitted with your basic shower job. Never mind here in the good old Commonwealth; where you were lucky to get water clean enough to bathe in that wasn’t being stored for drinking purposes.

“You’ve got no idea how tempted I am by that. God, I haven’t had a bath in forever!”

That slow, decadent smile stole across Hancock’s lips and he closed the distance between us; slipping in behind me and sliding both hands around my waist. His lips brushed the small hairs on the nape of my neck. I felt, just as much as _heard_ him inhale my scent. Maybe picking up on the perfume I had dabbed in there behind my ears.

“We can take one tonight if you like…” He purred, face pressing down in my hair and fingers stealing over the curve of my stomach. My heart gave a little kick at the thought; for it was a fine idea and one I was certain we would both enjoy. I managed a little laugh all the same.

“Honestly hun… the theory is sexier than the practice.” I pointed to the bathtub, flicking one of my stubby little fingernails towards the left-hand side. “One of you ends up with your butt fastened over the plughole with the shower dripping on your head, whilst the other has to put up with your toenails wedged into their genitals.”

He laughed, slipping past me and sliding neatly into the tub, (the end without the plughole); resting his arms up on the lip to either side.

“Well, I was thinking that I would be here and you would be…” He gestured down along the front of his body; in a way that made it look as though he were spreading butter painstakingly across a long slice of bread. “…right… _here_. Giving your back a sponge down. Nice little shoulder rub…”

“I’m starting to like what I hear…” I murmured, drifting over and leaning my back against the sink. My eyes panned the room. “Coupla candles, glass of wine on a trestle table… a few nice thick towels on the floor to sop up the water from all the splashing…”

He smirked fondly; winking. “Only _you_ would worry about something like that.”

“ _Most_ married women I should think would worry about that.” I thought back on my words and offered a retraction; in light of my now bare ring finger.  “Well… most grown _up_ women, I should say.”

Hancock looked patently unconcerned by my mangled syntax and simply staggered on up out of the bath; joining me by the sink with an uncomfortable, impossible to veil favoring of his left leg.

“Well, what say we relegate this one to the future and continue our tour before I start carpeting the lino with towels and we go getting our splash on?”

“By all means.” I said, hooking my hand back through the habitually offered crook of his arm and allowing him to lead me out of the room. “So long as we don’t go getting our splash on too soon after eating. I don’t wanna go gettin’ a cramp now.” I added.

Hancock laughed, flicking off the light as we left and opening now the door on the left-hand side of the wall. He took the torch out of his trouser pocket with his free hand.

“Gotta warn ya, this one’s a bit of a write off, sorry.” He said, switching the torch on and panning the beam about the cluttered room beyond. “Haven’t got the electricity wired to it either.”

The room, once likely the apartment’s single bedroom, was full of supplies. Building supplies, for the most part; paint and wooden planks, tins of this that and the other, brushes, toolkit, bags of nails, etc. There was a mattress frame in the corner; nearly invisible as a result of all the stuff that was resting on or against it. The room had a single window; shaded by old, mildewed and pock-marked curtains and secured with black bars that spanned the length of it.

Hancock must have supposed me to have not been impressed by the display because he dove succinctly into rescue mode. “Know it ain’t much to look at now but… good slap of paint, wire the electricity in.” He waved a hand towards the nearly submerged bed frame. “Put a mattress on the bed. Be good as new.”

“Yeah… wouldn’t take much work, I’d think.” I said perkily, quite the opposite in my interpretation of the room as to what Hancock seemed to take me for. Being a sort of fixer up person myself, I enjoyed a project and loved seeing how something so cluttered and disorganized could be made to look amazing with a bit of elbow grease. “It’s a good size too; lots of room to put in a dresser and bedside table. Even a writing desk.”

“Had the same thoughts myself, Munch.” Hancock said, smiling optimistically as he closed the door and switched the torch off. He led me now into the kitchen, setting the torch neatly onto the island countertop; rendered to resemble gray marble. White cupboards lined the opposing wall; six below the cornices and five on ground level. The area between composed of a double sink, with bench top plenty for prep work and what I took to be a restored gas oven.

Hancock swept along, pointed out things here and there; his voice peaking to highs and lows with excitement. “Sure it ain’t much like what you were used to but Thomas got a few power points installed along here. Couple of years, who knows? Put a toaster in, few other appliances. Get a nice, tidy little kitchen nook happening.” He swept his hand through a tall, empty square shaped space to the prep area’s left. “Fridge used to be here but it died a few years back. Might be able to get a replacement soon; all them handy folks in town.”

“Is the oven hooked up? Does it work?”

Hancock grinned, so obviously pleased with himself as he all but bounced his lame leg over to the oven and tugged the door down; revealing two steel shelves. He twisted a knob on the appliances backboard and I watched as the element eased to life; glowing vibrant orange and transmuting into heat. I sighed, relieved as he turned the oven back off and shut the door.

“Oh, thank goodness. I thought we’d have to go and eat those burgers cold. Now I can get the cheese all good and runny again.” I took a moment, staring around the kitchen area and opening cupboards here and there to look inside. Hoping I didn’t look rude but genuinely impressed by the set up. “This Thomas seemed like a… real resourceful guy. How was he able to get all this shit set up? Tanks on the roof and all? He must have had a nicer set up than most folks back in the day!”

It might have backfired on me and sent Hancock melancholy again, but for whatever reason the statement only seemed to amuse him. “Ha! Didn’t he know it. He didn’t set up half the stuff himself, mind you. Inherited the joint from an ‘old lover’, he said. Some super reserved guy that had the time, money and resources to put together his own private little pad.” He grinned, crossed his arms and flashed me a knowing look. “Lucky for Thomas, the guy had a weak spot for sexy, good looking, Asian boys. Kept in good long enough to reap the rewards.”

“Cheeky.”

“Heh. You got no idea.” He gave a small, throwaway look over his shoulder. As though shooing away a persistently circling fly. “You woulda liked him, I think.”

“Yeah?”

“Mnh. He was funny, like you. Kind. Good at just about everything he set his hand to.” Scratched the back of his neck. Added, almost offhand: “That was his piano Deacon was playing tonight… Thomas used to perform at the Third Rail and the Hotel Rexford. Guy could sing, write music, play music, dance… makes Pattie look clumsy in comparison.”

“Of course…” I murmured, taking the rooms reaction now for what it was. Being able to ascribe meaning to something that had until now lacked context. “That’s why Meyer got all funny when Deacon went up to it.”

Hancock nodded thoughtfully. “Thomas was the best of us. Gutsy, unashamed but compassionate.” Another nod, looking more the convinced with what thoughts were congealing within his usually sharp and inscrutable mind. “You would have liked him.”

“You think he would have liked me?” Perhaps a question I might not have wished to know the answer too. It still hurt a little that Fahrenheit couldn’t warm to me. How would I feel to find out that someone whom Hancock obviously felt so fond of in his day, might not have wanted a thing to do with me?

But Hancock put my doubts to immediate and much ingratiated rest with an easy, agreeable laugh.

“Oh, without a doubt, love. You’re a sweetheart, _he_ was a sweetheart. He would’ve had you by the hand, getting you into all sorts of trouble.” He smirked, jerking a thumb back into his chest. “He certainly did me.”

“And here was me thinking _you_ would be the bad influence.” I teased, brows raised.

“I wasn’t nearly so bad until I met Thomas.” Hancock grinned, using the trailing end of his sash to wipe a smear from the corner of the benchtop. Oh for goodness sake, use a cloth, John! That’s gotta be a slur against the integrity of the flag if ever I’ve seen one! “Guy had a way of charming you round to his way of thinking. Exactly the reason as to why he ended up with these sweet digs.” He stared at me with a look of deep consideration, clucked his tongue and then took my hands in his own; marching backwards into the sitting area. “The digs of which we are not nearly making strains _enough_ in exploring. So, ya like the lounge?”

“Hell yeah.” I said honestly, beaming up at the fairy lights and inspecting in turn each of the fancy looking art pieces affixed to the wall; inscrutable, so far as a daft creature like me was concerned. “The bed is pretty shagtastic. Guessing that one was bequeathed to Thomas from his gullible benefactor?”

Hancock turned, released my hand and proceeded to pitch himself spectacularly onto the bed, in a maneuver that reminded me all too much of a whale launching itself up out of the ocean. He bounced a bit; legs snapping to form a V shape in the air before rolling onto his hip and resting his temple against his fist. Nice to see him having fun, at least.

“You know it. One of a kind mattress that Meaghan was kind enough to patch for me.” He slapped the top of the mattress good and hard; showing how sturdy it was. “After Ryan and BC were kind enough to help me haul it all the way from here back to her shop.”

My brows rocketed into my forehead; eyes widening with similar disbelief. “Not through that window, surely?!”

“Nah. Dropped it down into the alleyway. Return trip was a bitch though. We actually had to force roof access of both buildings and make a ramp so we could slide the bastard of a thing down onto this one.” Once more, he pointed Heavenward. “The guy who owned this place before Thomas must have done something similar; why he chose to set up shop next to a taller building, I’m thinking. Helped with transporting some of his more luxurious pieces in and out.” He swayed his palm across the bed, inviting me to appreciate. “No pressure to enjoy, or nothing. Lot of sweat, blood and swearing went into hauling this little beauty here.”

“I keep expecting a disco ball to drop from the ceiling and the bed to start turning in circles.”

“Would that it could.” Hancock muttered, pushing himself over to the side of the bed and struggling back onto his feet; leg stiff from where the brace kept it supported. He trotted back to my side, sliding an arm around my shoulders and lowering his voice to precious little more than a whisper. “So… you like it?”

A modest apartment. Slightly smaller than the house I had lived in before the war had stolen my world from me. Tenderly cared for, kept on life support through delicate brush strokes and slicks of spackle and streaming, searing sparks of electricity. A faded echo of the decadence which preceded it generations prior. But more indescribably beautiful for what it represented alone than anything I had ever seen. The work that Hancock had invested in this place… the hours of attention to detail; evident in the smaller things that he had tucked away but still couldn’t conceal. The cleaning supplies, the bags of nails, the haphazard repair to a crack in the ceiling. The wiping down of the benchtop with his own sash… He was bound to this place by something reverential and consummately powerful. I could feel the weight of it pressing down on my heart; weakening my knees.

“It’s lovely, John.” I said, wending my fingers up between his own and rubbing my thumb against his. It wasn’t enough but who the hell says ‘consummately powerful’ out loud? “I can tell you’ve worked very hard on it.”

“Yeah… kept me busy while I was waiting for you to come on back.” He stepped from my side so that he now stood in front of me. He took my hand, turned it palm up and pressed a key there; holding my fingers down over it. “It’s yours now, darlin’.”

Oh Jesus. Here I’d been only minutes earlier praying that he wasn’t about to up and do something outrageous and now he’d gone ahead and done it. I stared at the key in my hand, not sure what to say. It was too overwhelming. Not unexpected of John Hancock in the least but… shit. I had trouble enough accepting a bagful of cheese, let alone an entire residence. Just how did he suppose I was likely to react to such an extravagant offer?

“Wait… I… _what_?” I garbled. Hancock started to backpedal, remembering my earlier trepidations I think and correctly interpreting the dumbfounded expression on my face.

“It’s… well, it’s _ours,_ I should say. I needed a place to retire to, if and when the day comes that Goodneighbor decides it wants more in a mayor than irrepressible charm and devilish good looks.” He slapped a hand to the wall; in emphasis of the property’s solid structure. “No one else wanted to go to the effort it would take to keep this place running. I had the money and resources to do so… So… I did.” He extended his hands to me, as though inviting an embrace. “But when you came along, I thought: this would be perfect. Eve could live here with Shaun when she got him back from the Institute. It was already as safe as safe can be; with the traps and wires set up. I mean, when Shaun comes along we’ll have to just go and clear out the lower stairwells of _this_ building, so he can go in and out of the doors without blowing his limbs off, but…”

I picked up on his wording and chose to gently challenge him on it, but with a smile so he knew that I wasn’t cross with him about it. “ _We?_ ”

He looked nervous now, rubbing the back of his neck in an almost cartoon character like gesture of embarrassment. It was disarming to see him look so vulnerable. But adorably so.

“I… well, I just figured… well _hoped_ that… now that we’re together… if the day comes that we can’t stay in the Statehouse anymore that we could come here. Raise Shaun together _here._ ” He walked to the island bench; leaned the hallow of his back against it. _“_ I know it’s not very big but… I can get that bedroom up to scratch. Shaun could sleep there and have some privacy. We could sleep out here. I mean, my family grew up in a shack that was smaller than this. Didn’t have nearly as many walls but… we were happy. I figured we could be happy too.” He gazed around, eyes peering into every far corner (all free from cobwebs, thank goodness) and added, “Until then; this can be a place you can use whenever ya want. If you just need somewhere to come to and have a break. Spend some time away from shit with some of your girlfriends.” His lips eased into a provocative smile as he slunk back to my side, running his hands down each of my arms; voice a leading, lustful murmur. “Somewhere to escape to for a… romantic little rendezvous…”

I sighed to feel the pressure of his touch; to hear the breathy longing of his desirous insinuations. But remained for all his attempts to sway me, uncertain.

“John, I… I can’t accept this. This place… it was _Thomas’s_ place.” I fingered the edges of the key; wondered just what this mysterious, long dead man would think to see his home willfully handed into the possession of a woman Hancock had known little longer than a year. Bequeathed upon the mere facet of predominantly unrequited infatuation. “It’s special to you, _he_ was special to you. I don’t want to go and disrespect that.”

I held the key up, tried to push it back on him. The gesture rent a proud swelling to the chambers of my chest; to think that I could behave with such sincere decorum and morality. Too often in the past, I had taken advantage of those things that could provide me security. That practicality was one of the very things that had seen me survive so long in this world. Morals hadn’t much sway when my sons very life hung in the balance. I had even turned my gun on Bobby No-Nose when I had learned of her deception; knowing that keeping the favor of the Mayor of Goodneighbor was more in my interests than remaining loyal to someone I was working with. Hadn’t pulled the trigger, but then, that’s not to suggest I _wouldn’t_ have done. Everything was a means to ensure my survival; my _son’s_ survival.

An apartment such as this… it would have been in my best interests to have taken it without protest. Safer perhaps even than the Statehouse, which sat direct in town epicenter. The location of which most everyone knew. It just… didn’t feel right, though. My blinders weren’t so firmly affixed to the sides of my head anymore. I could see much more of the world around me now than ever before. And there was much more to it than just myself and my son. And in knowing that, I could no longer _unknow_ it.

Hancock took my wrist between his fingers; squeezed gently to elicit my attention. His eyes burned with that blazing look of his; that one which seemed to filter out the passionate heat of his thoughts and transmute them into the waiting air. An expression so very difficult to propose reason against.

“Munch, there’s no _disrespect_ in this. Thomas waxed on and on about wanting me to be happy. He’d be cheering us on right now; I know!” He cupped my cheek with his remaining hand, another gesture I think he knew was effective in weakening my stubborn resolve. “Let me do this much for you. Let me at the very least offer you a place where you can be _safe._ ” He smiled before doling out the kicker. “Better than a house of sand and sticks, right?”

To reference the past like that… to show that our time spent together was so meaningful to him that he was capable of effortlessly recalling it… Damn. Damn charming, smooth-talking, silver-tongued bastard.

I grinned in spite of myself, reaching up to dab up the line of moisture that had accumulated on the edges of my lashes. “Dammit John… this sure as shit beats out a measly bottle of Scotch…” I rocked forward onto the tips of my toes, leaning in to press a warm, lingering kiss to his mouth. “Thankyou. I… don’t know what else to say. Thankyou. Thankyou for thinking of me – of Shaun. Thankyou for doing so much.” I put my arms around him; hugged him firm and hard before stepping back and making another half-concerted effort in cleaning up my face again. “I’m sorry… I’m just so overwhelmed. It’s a stupid trite cliché but no one’s ever done anything like this for me before. I mean, I _bought_ the house that Nate and I lived in… well, the bank owned most of it but I put the deposit on and- Oh, ugh… listen to me waffling on like an absolute idiot. Just… just thanks, you know?”

He chuckled, using his thumb to help stroke the tears off of my cheeks. “Well, you might wanna hold that thought, Munch because this is a sort of two-part Christmas present.”

I gaped at him as he swished his little fanny over towards the bed, thinking he was well on the way to getting a smack about the head if he didn’t calm his over-gregarious Christmas spirit down a touch.

“What? No! _Seriously,_ John? Honey, you’ve done _enough_!”

“I promise, it’s just two small-ish things and then that’s it! One of them’s actually more of a gift to _me,_ so don’t go feeling too guilty about it.” He squatted by the bed, reaching underneath and dragging out a large square box; wrapped in a blue ribbon that had been tied into a messy bow. It reminded me of a toddler’s hair; wrangled into a topknot on the peak of their head and secured with a big old star spangled scrunchie. I decided not to mention such an observation to Hancock, because he was beaming with a look of absolute, undisputed pride as he popped the box onto the bed and I couldn’t bear to burst the poor man’s bubble.

He grinned at me, petting the space to the far side of the box before perching himself opposite. Almost bouncing verdantly with joy. “Come on. Come sit on the bed and open ‘er up.”

I sighed, seeing I was on the end of a losing battle and made my way over to perch on the bed. The bow came apart with just a few, tight tugs and I allowed it to drift down to either side of the box, before lifting the snug fitting lid off of the base. It was lined with tissue paper (again, _where_ were they making this stuff?) which I eased aside to reveal a neatly folded blue dress; that same color Hancock knew full well was my favorite.

I gasped in spite of myself and sprang to my feet, bringing the dress along with me and allowing the remainder of it to unravel so that it fell even with my feet. So long and decadent… my god. The bodice was a sweetheart neckline, with relatively thick straps that appeared to connect back up under the arms; so as to allow most of the back to be bare. It had a built-in bra to provide some support to my breasts and appeared to be tight fitting enough, so as to not let them hang too low or put too much weight on my neck. Thank _goodness._ Men seemed to think that slight little cups and tiny strings looked great on a big bust, but failed to appreciate just how little support such a style offered. If I was a slight little thing like Cait maybe but the more support a top-heavy gal like me received, the better. He had even gone with a neckline that worked better for my body type, which I was actually pretty impressed by. Not too low in the back either; it pinched in nice and neatly to the sway of my spine, giving some coverage over my big old butt. There was some tapering in at the waist, before the bottom section flared out into three distinct layered sections; culminating in a slight train and a split to the side that would sit just a few fingers width above my right knee.

I wasn’t a woman often compelled by feminine looking things but this dress would have been stunning in my own time, let alone here in the future with resources at a bare minimum. Nicer still than my engagement dress, yet not quite so astonishing as my wedding gown; it danced that perfect line between sexiness and sophistication that I could never have accomplished if left to my own devices. I spent far too long swishing about the room with it; gaping, gawking and gibbering like a high school girl about to away to her prom night.

“Oh my God… John it’s… it’s so _beautiful_!” I all but blubbered, twisting from side to side and sticking my leg out to get an idea as to how it would look whence draped in the lovely fabric. “And so much modest than I thought you were capable of! I thought you would try to whack me in a tube dress or something equally slutty.”

He laughed in a guilty sounding manner. “Actually… to give credit where credit’s due, Meaghan steered me towards this one. I wanted to go for one that had these string straps with triangle bits of fabric on the…” He gestured to his own chest region to make his point. “But Meg said it wasn’t the right design for someone with a…”

“Larger bust.”

“Yup. Showed me this one; said it would be more your speed. Give a chance to show off your shoulders and your back.”

“I do like showing off my back.” I concurred, grinning as I thought back to my wedding and all the stuck-up members of Nate’s predominately Catholic family who had made off the cuff remarks about my shoulder tattoo and how it had ‘ruined the aesthetic of the dress’ and how ‘tacky’ it was, blah-blah-blah. Guess Hancock had no such concerns, which was nice because Nate hadn’t been the biggest fan of my ink, much as he had loved me.

“What’s not to like?” Hancock said, validating my thoughts as he reached back now into the box and plucked out a card that I had missed in all my excitement at seeing the dress. “Meaghan’s got some shoes at the shop she’s holding for you. Says they’ll go perfect with the dress. Got ya this here as well; ya think it’ll help any.”

I looked at the neat, handwritten name penned upon the card. Felt my mouth drop open when I saw what the proposed service they offered was. “You got to be kidding me… _optometrist?_ ”

Hancock nodded, smirking in a very self-satisfied manner. Guy possessed nothing in the way of a poker face. “Got a guy in town that came out from some Vault where they specialized in these sorts of procedures. Maintained their shit since before the Great War. He travels with his equipment now; checks people’s vision and matches it, best he can, to the glasses he has in his possession. It’s all paid for; so I’ll just take you and introduce you.” He pinched his index fingers and thumbs together and held them up over his eyes; neatly encircling the sockets. “You can get your eyes checked, get a pair of glasses. Save me reading all those soppy romance novels to you every night.”

From the moment those sirens had sounded and the earth had been totaled around me, I had long since regretted not putting my glasses on that warm October morning. So many days I had spent since with my vision impacted upon the borders by fragments of blurred shadows; of signs misread and sights misinterpreted. Dependent upon others to translate, transcribe and otherwise decipher. In linking me up with this individual, Hancock was handing back some of my lost independence; was granting me the means to take back some of the control I had lost. To attain some level of comfort. To _read_ as long and as late as I might desire, without my tired eyes degenerating into a perspective not uncommon to that whence staring up from the bottom of a swimming pool.

Hancock grunted as I dropped on top of him, throwing my arms about his neck with such verve that we toppled backwards onto the bed; the dress landing beside us with a fluttering of its many, delicate layers.

“Oh my God John… you seriously gotta stop now because I am crushing on you so hard you’re gonna want ta put a restraining order on me before the night is out.” I framed his jaw with my hand, ducking down to plant kiss after kiss on his all too receptive mouth. “Thankyou. Thank you _so_ much.” The next kiss lingered, took more of his lower lip into my mouth. Dragged back on it. “You are the most… amazing Ghoulfriend a girl could ask for…”

He chuckled, winding his arms about my waist; pulling me tighter against him. “Well… BC _did_ lend me a book that he borrowed from the library…” He held a hand up, made quotation marks in the air beside my ear. “ _’Put on nice clothes to show you care…_ ’”

“ _Give her an apartment to show you mean business”._

“What, you’re gonna dispute the effectiveness of that one?”

I laughed softly, little tingles working their way up and down my spine as his fingers lightly traced the bare skin of my upper back. “If anything could give a gal spring loaded legs…” I murmured, leaning in to kiss him again. Our lips met and smothered each a soft moan; sinking further into the other. My fingers pressed firmer into the skin behind his ear, his hat tilted back from where its side peak had gotten pinned between his head and the bed. His mouth slid open, breathed my name and our tongues met, parted and returned to dwell about the ridged peaks of teeth and the warm crevices tucked before and between.

We remained this way a while; twined together on that decadent bed, kissing and trailing our hands greedily across one another’s curves and peaks and shifting muscle. Hancock’s palms swept the bare line of my back, warm and rough. The way he cupped to my shoulder blades felt strangely intimate; little different to how he had handled my breasts that afternoon in the sitting room. His thumb rubbed the bone such as he had done my nipples; his fingers fanning out to massage my sweat speckled flesh. Hand flexing, his breaths heavy with desire as his legs parted so as to let me slide down flush with him. I rolled my pelvis forward, rubbing against the stiff bulge of his budding erection and he pinched my lower lip between his teeth; growling softly before glancing his tongue up to lick and suck. He pushed back against me and I took the pressure right on through the borders of my shorts and undies; glancing just so against my clit. I felt a resonate ache make its mark in the deeper, covert part of me and yearned for his fingers to glean the edge from it.

I took his hand from about me, lifting my groin so that daylight could now pass between us and guided his fingers to the bare flesh of my inside thighs. I urged him softly to stroke, an act that exacerbated further that sweet, tender ache but one that simultaneously spurred my desires to ever greater heights. The anticipation of his touch; creeping up along that sensitive flesh, drifting up close and closer still, only then to pass over to the other side and drift on down… I squirmed, softly whimpering his name. He kissed me, said something that meant no more and no less than the heat and the longing that was intermingled with the tone of his voice. His arm gripped to me tighter, pushing up and then over so that I lost my balance and tipped sideways onto the bed. He reeled me in; reducing that space between us and pulling my legs around his waist. He cupped the back of my head, his remaining hand caressing the slope of my spine before gradually easing down to clutch the cheek of my ass. The touch was different to what it had been earlier in the night; gently kneading at me, exploring here and there with his fingers, rubbing with his thumb. Our mouths parted; letting in hot harried breaths with tongues lightly tapping, sliding and tasting whilst oxygen was tempered in.

I sighed as I squirmed against him; pressing my palm in about his neck, whilst the one pinned beneath us rubbed and massaged that gorgeous back through the wrinkles of his shirt. I could sense that dinner was slipping further away by the moment and found I really wasn’t giving much of a shit about my appetite. Not my… food based one, anyway; which was a consummately rare thing in my world. It was all feeling so good and so very _right_ ; as natural as it had been that afternoon in that warm and heady room. Our lips parted once more and Hancock broke away, only so as to bring his mouth to the column of my throat; huffing hot breaths against me as he kissed and sucked, fingers twining and toying with the strands of my hair. Impassioned with the desire to take and possess. Oh, it felt so _nice…_ so familiar, so comforting, so…

_Nate._

It couldn’t have been the sharper, no more distinct in its intrusion than if it had been a knife blade, plunged through the nadir of my guts. Guilt lay siege to my mind as an indecorous wave of nausea tag-teamed my stomach and I flinched back; sweat breaking so suddenly across my skin that I swore I could just about feel it pop free one at a time from the pores. Realizing that this recoiling would have likely been taken the wrong way, I flurried quickly to fashion an excuse.

“Wait… wait, I… I really gotta pee, John.” One that wasn’t actually in the least a lie. Just a reality that I hadn’t cared to pay attention to whilst all the nice stuff had been going on with.

As expected of any man that was well and invested in their hard-on, Hancock moaned decorously; giving a fitting sort of half-laugh at his own folly. “Uh… _damn._ ” He sunk his face down into the quilt cover of the bed, peering out from behind his arm with creased brows as I wriggled and jiggled my way over to the edge of the mattress. “ _Seriously?_ ”

“Unless you want me to add urine to the blood, sweat and swearing already soaked up by this mattress, then yeah.” I rolled myself back onto my feet and with a slightly less than wobbly gait, made my way towards the bathroom. I held up a solitary finger as I pushed the door open and tried to smile in my most disarming fashion. Not wanting him to think that any of this was on him. “One minute.”

Hancock smiled, looking amused rather than wounded and perched on his side; frisking out his pouch of tobacco from his pants pocket. He set to work rolling a blunt. “You know where to find me.”

I slipped inside the bathroom, turning on the light and shutting the door. Having actual and genuine need of the facilities, I made my way to the toilet and had myself the wee I’d been long restraining; legs jiggling about nervously as I worked to keep my thoughts and emotions at bay. Gratified that Hancock had the foresight to provide toilet paper, I cleaned myself up, pulled my underpants and shorts back to where they ought to be and flushed. I washed my hands, feeling that my eyes weren’t focusing. Less than usual, I mean. Stopped. Pressed both hands to either side of the sink.

Here it comes. The tears. The deep, shuddering, unstoppable sobs. Oh god damn _shit._ I’d barely thought a wit of Nate that afternoon when Hancock and I had been fooling around and now, _now_ there his face was. Floating clear as day at the forefront of my mind. Bringing with him the feel of his skin, how his muscles had moved, the sound of his voice, his _smell_ …

All gone. All really, truly, irretrievably lost forever. No more the apparent for the fact that I was here, in the arms of another man. If not to engage in the first sexual act since having lost my husband but to offer myself over in an act of genuine physical love. My chosen… replacement. _Replacement…_

“ _Nate… Oh God… you’re really dead._ ” My throat convulsed and I bit back what might have been a louder cry, pressing my finger against my upper lip. It peeled back all the same; that age-old expression of pure, unadulterated grief. Nate… dead, gone… And me, who had been so unworthy of surviving in the first instance, having not loved him enough to abstain from this… I could feel the shame gnawing at my bones; like tiny insects infiltrating the deepest clutches of my self-conscious and digging their razor-sharp mandibles into the marrow of my soul. “ _I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…_ ”

My knees were weak, so I closed the toilet lid and perched upon it; keeping my hands away from my face lest I ruin my makeup further still. A weird thing to be concerned with but all the better to focus on, so as to keep as distant from my muddled mind as possible. I cried as much as this would permit me, ripping square by square of toilet paper where required and dabbing up under my eyes. I’m not certain how much time had passed, but it must have been long enough for Hancock to have gotten himself concerned by my absence (or else he was starting to get hungry, what with the lack of physical distraction) because I was soon interrupted by a knock upon the door.

“Eve?” He called, gently. I fumbled, dragged myself up off of the toilet and went to the mirror. Shit. My eyes were red and puffy; though my cheeks were mercilessly void of dirty makeup residue. There wasn’t really much I could do in the way of fixing my eyeballs, so I ran the tap and pretended once more, to wash my hands.

“J-just a minute…”

He pushed the door open anyway, leaning around the jam to look in at me; his brow crinkled with worry. I groaned, rolled my eyes and pitched the crumpled-up piece of toilet paper into the small bin resting by the vanity. The jig was up.

“Jesus… good thing I wasn’t changing a tampon or something.”

Ignoring the jibe I’d made concerning his impetuousness, Hancock tapped a finger to the far side of the door. “‘Nother thing I need to fix. Get a lock on this bad boy. Think Thomas might have liked the idea of people catching him in the bath.” He stepped into the room, crossed his arms and looked to me. Such lovely hints of softness in his eyes. “I’ve known you over a year now, Munch. Know that look in your eyes when you’re fixin’ to cry. Sorry but there ain’t no foolin’ this Ghoul.”

I tucked my lips into my mouth as emotion washed through me again; turned from him and fought back the tears. Not again. Had enough of this shit for a decade, let alone a single day. It was more than enough for Hancock however and he came to me; arms unfolding and reaching out to bring me into his embrace.

“Commere, darlin’.” He murmured, pulling me to his chest; hands pressing against my back and shoulder. I gave up the ghost; sinking against him with cheek to chest and hands resting in the comforting slope of his lean back. I whimpered softly, biting back the tears as best I could and he kissed the side of my head; rocking me tenderly as though I were a babe in need of soothing. “All a bit much all of sudden, isn’t it?”

“I don’t… I don’t know what’s wrong with me…” I grumbled, wiping at my eyes impatiently. “I didn’t feel… weird about it this afternoon. Not _weird_ but… you know… _guilty._ “

“Like I said earlier, this afternoon was a bit more to the side of impulsive, love. We’d had a bit to drink. Lotta heat, not a lotta food. It was what it was. This night’s been an event. There’s been a lotta build up, a lotta stuff happening.” He took me by the shoulders and eased me back about two steps; staring into my eyes. “Listen.” He paused long enough to run the knuckle of his index finger under each of my eyes; lifting away what remained of the tears. “If you ain’t ready for this, then that’s okay. I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t wanna make love to you because I think it’s pretty fuckin’ obvious that I do.” I laughed at this, which conjured a smile from him in turn. Some of the tension eased. “But I ain’t gonna be taking anything good from it, if you go into it feeling like this. I want ya to be happy. I want ya enjoying yourself, not feeling guilty, or pressured.”

“But you’ve waited so long-” A menial protest that he batted out of the air as though it were nothing more substantial than a belligerent Bloat-Fly.

“Oh, fuck that. Who gives a shit about that?” He rubbed his thumb tenderly across my cheek; reassuring. Waited still for me to look up and to meet his eyes. “I wasn’t lying when I said that you’re the only one I wanna be with. If you need to wait a bit longer, I ain’t gonna be running out on ya to try and get it from someone else.”

“John. I _want_ this. I _want_ to be with you.” I grit my teeth, little to taper out the irritable groan loosed from the back of my throat. “My brain’s just being a bit of a shit at the moment. More so than usual.”

We shared a laugh at this and Hancock leaned in, smiling, to press a kiss to my forehead. He didn’t seem worried. It made the guilt lessen, somewhat. Definitely helped me to relax. Could I have ever hoped to find a more decent man in all the world? I hardly dared believe he could be so patient and in light of how long I had deliberately evaded his attentions!

“Take the pressure off. Relax.” He guided me through taking a long, slow deep breath in and we both synchronized the easing down of our shoulders as we let the air back out. “Now; we got ourselves some primo dinner out there and, if one can be so bold as to toot his own horn, a delicious cocktail with our names written all over that son of o’ bitch.”

A genuine sigh of happiness that needed no faking as he took me by the hand and led me complicity from the room as though I were a kite riding on the barest hint of a breeze. “ _Yes,_ honey! I think I’m feeling better already…”

“That’s the spirit.” Hancock laughed, pinning his arm about my shoulder as he switched off the bathroom light and guided me back into the sitting area. “Just go with the flow of it, babe. Let’s have a bite, have a few drinks and a chat and well… we’ll see where we go from there. Okay?”

I smiled appreciatively, reaching up to press a quick peck to his lips. “Okay. Thankyou, darling.”

“Pssht. Ain’t nothin’. Save it for the cocktail.”

“So where are we supposed to be eating?” I mused, glancing about the room in search of the aforementioned table and spying only those resting flush to the ‘sides’ of the bed. Each adorned with a spattering of tea candles, of course. _Fire hazard…_ “Codsworth said something about a dining area?”

“Ah, well. _That._ ” Hancock drawled, snatching his hat back up from the bed and sliding it atop his bald dome with a fancy little flick of his wrist. “Ain’t so much a dinner table as it’s a kind of… Jack and Jill outdoor sitting area with a sort of shared trestle in between. He’s done it all nice out there though; candles and a couple of throws he got from somewhere.”

I quirked a brow at him; uncertain as to how clever these seating arrangements were. “Is it really safe to be sitting outside? Aren’t you worried about snipers?”

“I’m a politician.” He quipped, making a big show of fluffing out the lapels of his shirt and realigning the sleeves. “It behooves me to _always_ be worried about snipers.”

“Well, then?

He swirled a finger about as though whipping up cake batter midair. “Balcony’s built with a solid stone railing around it. Higher than your head. This building is taller than the one’s on either side of it, so no one’s high up enough to get a bead on us.”

Smart but a little sad in the same breath. A balcony view would have been sublime but given the current situation, it simply wouldn’t be wise to go marching our faces out and about in plain sight. Maybe… it was simply a luxury in which we would _never_ be able to safely indulge. So long as Hancock was Mayor of Goodneighbor, and the knives were out for him. It raised a question as to how one could honestly live free when you were forced to live under such stringent stipulations? One eye constantly cast across your shoulder; focused eternally on the horizon. Never trusting a shadow to veil anything less than an errant spattering of bugs, old cans and opportunistic assassins. What a life. A life which, I realized with a sharp unappreciative jolt, I now shared.

“Seems like Thomas’s old lover thought of everything.” I observed, one of my ever consistent ‘statements of the goddamn obvious’. To draw attention away from the inanity of my statement, I brought my hands together in a sharp and decisive clap. “Well. I’m just gonna get a few nibblies together real quick. Meet you out there?”

“With bells on.” Hancock winked, whisking himself behind the counter top and emerging with the drinks cooler clutched in both hands. He balanced it on one leg, freeing his hand to tug open the sliding door; letting in a waft of still balmy air from the night outside. He offered up a merry wave as he stepped into the orange glow of the candlelight and I quickly busied myself with my own pre-dinner ablutions.

My significantly larger cooler had also been set behind the island bench and I cracked it open, quietly relieved that I could now find a use for the crackers that I was going to pair with the paté that simply never was. I took from the base of the cooler a spare plate, a sharp knife and one of Hancock’s not often nearly utilized enough, chopping boards. (Well, for anything other than crushing Mentats, that is. I’d had to wash the powdery residue from the surface prior to packing it).

I set to work, slicing up neat little servings of the cheese that Hancock had taken a liking to; piling them onto the left hand side of the plate before panning out the crackers to the right in the shape of a crescent moon. I decided against adding the blue cheese (thinking it was far too heady and stinky to wear on the breath whence enjoying your first date) and garnished the plate with a spattering of tarberries, edible flowers and a tiny, quince like paste I had found being marketed at the bakers and rendered from the discarded skin of overripe mutfruit. (Often utilized for creating fruit juice or flavoring alcoholic beverages, I had since discovered).

It was a modest offering, but I was pleased with how it had turned out. Just a little to the side of ‘near-fancy’ and a nice way to kick off before serving up the heavier stuff for dinner. Before heading out to join Hancock on the balcony, I checked inside the oven and was gratified to discover a single, relatively clean tray perched upon the second shelf. I gave it a wipe down with some paper towel, lightly greased it and then placed my pre-made Juicy Lucy burgers on top; setting the oven temperature to ‘warm’. This should hopefully get the cheese good and drippy again; which was the main appeal of the burger. Satisfied that I had done what I could, I tugged the cooler along at my heel, balancing the tray on one hand as I headed for the still open sliding door.

The heat of the closing day enveloped my face as I stepped out onto the stone floor of the balcony. Styled more like a rooftop terrace, it was approximately twenty or so feet in width (according to my lousy ability to estimate distance) and surrounded by, as Hancock had earlier stated, a tall, stone balcony, composed of individual rocks that had been piled together and hemmed by long dead, but what had once likely been a thriving crown of ivy. Rectangular glass lanterns had been inset at chin height and someone, Codsworth I suspected, had fed thick white candles into each of them. Their wicks had been lit and were flickering out warm, orange light across the modest space they were charged with. Tiny moths circled and occasionally pinged against their blistering penitentiary; casting a shadow play of lambent wings upon the patchy stonework.

The wall directly opposite the doorway had a sort of wooden bar integrated along the length of it; for setting down plates, drinks and at a loss as to what to do with themselves elbows. Hancock stood by the Jack and Jill seater, made from a charcoal colored wood (it was a little hard to tell in the dim, yet terribly romantic lighting) pouring a golden, frothy cocktail into matching glasses that he had managed to squeeze in around the short, fat, no doubt fragrant candle that adorned the trestle table like a possessive old owl hunkered on the nicest branch in the tallest oak. One look at the contents of the glasses and I was off and squealing like the pig that knew it was for dinner.

“Oh my god! Fluffy _ducks?!_ ” I beat down the urge that compelled me to jump up and down on the spot and send my cheese platter prepping efforts to the devil. “No _way!_ ”

The edge of Hancock’s incisors broke into view between his lips as I shoved my plate down between a mess of candles on the wooden bar and all but flew at him in my haste to accept the drink.

“Know you didn’t get a chance to see the actual quackers today, so I hope this’ll suffice for the time being.” A flash of teeth; not quite so white as Pattie and Deacon’s but straight and nicely aligned. An identifiable chip to the front left the only deference from an otherwise near perfect maw. “Remember when we first had these?”

“Oh, hard to forget! _Cragenshore_ , of course!” He nodded his confirmation as I took up the tall frothy glass, admiring the color and texture of the cocktail. “I mean, give those whack jobs one thing but they sure as shit knew how to make a decent bevvy. Well, Ferdinand did, anyhoo.” I sighed, tilting my head back and moaning an impeachment towards the Heavens. “Oh _Ferdinand…_ how I miss you…”

He knocked his glass against my arm; brows creased unappreciatively. “Hey, come on. Least you can do is give _my_ version a chance. Got most of the same shit from the liquor traders up north. Might just tickle your fancy.”

“Hoping it tickles _more_ than just that.” I said, taking a shot at flirting; hopeless though I was with putting the theory into practice. Hancock was kind enough to look intrigued by the lame little offer, rather than pitiful at my attempt to emulate sexiness. I breezed on past it, hoisting my glass out towards his own and sending a slough of beige bubbles burbling down over the lip. I tried to pretend as though I wasn’t worried about it making my palm sticky. “The Dangerous Duo.”

Hancock held out his own glass towards mine. “Panty flinging, toilet diving-”

I struck my arm through the air, snorting back a laugh in the same instance. “Oh hell no! We are not travelling down _that_ road to ruin again, my lover. Once was enough! Why not instead, as you always say –” I held out my glass again and winked meaningfully. “ _And God help any of ‘em-”_

“– who get in our way.” Hancock concluded, a slight edge to his smile that said he too was thinking back to all those ‘happy hour’s’ we had shared; rejoicing at the end of wild scraps, near misses and vanquished foes alike. It sent a flutter to the edge of my heart; hastened my breath and flushed the column of my neck with heat. Perhaps it wasn’t circuitously feminine for me to have found something desirable in how dangerous he could be… but damn if he wasn’t good at it.

“Clink it and sink it.” I neatly rounded off our customary salute, bringing my glass up to my lips, whilst he mirrored my movement in turn. The taste of rum, cream and fruit rushed across my tongue; lighting up my taste buds and sending my pleasure sensors into overdrive. My entire body vibrated with the longing moan that welled up from deep down in the far reaches of my organs and I relaxed my throat muscles, all the better to release another wave of that thick, divine liquid down into the waiting receptacle of my stomach. The ice cubes that had been bobbing on the surface, left their chilled mark against my lips but I didn’t care a wit. This was good, it was so…

Hancock gave a slightly shocked laugh as I swayed, reaching out to grab his arm as a means to steady myself. Foam clung to the skin around my mouth and I could feel the tiny bubbles bursting as I swept my tongue about to gather them up.

“Whoa. Think I may have just climaxed.”

He looked a little distracted now, but laughed in good humor as was his custom; taking a far more refined and sophisticated sip of his beverage than I had managed. “Guess my work here is done then. You wanting I leave you alone with the drink so you can stroke another one out?”

I lashed out, slapping the back of his shoulder hard as he meandered over, still laughing, towards the cheese plate.

“Oh, _you_ go and stroke another one out, shithead! Here I am all trying to up and give you a compliment and all you can think about is me flicking the bean!” I licked my lips, murmured a heartfelt ‘Mmm-mm’ to myself and took a more reposed, ladylike sip from the cocktail. Ohhhh _boy…_ Lush _as._ “Honestly though… it is worth beating off to. Darl, this is _amazing._ ”

Hancock shrugged, picking up a cheese and cracker and using the knife supplied to smear a little helping of fruit paste upon it. “Hey, remember what I said we first met? This Dirty Wastelander can shake a mean cocktail.” He appraised the less than modest hors d'oeuvre with a teasing crinkle of his brow. **“** _Wow_ … biscuits and the cheese we just purchased tonight.” His tone dripped with sarcasm, insincere in its delivery. Proffered only as a means of pushing my buttons; to see me get worked up. Something he seemed to derive great satisfaction from. “If we didn’t end up stumbling across a cheese vendor, were you just gonna serve dry crackers for entrée?”

I rolled my eyes, refusing to bite the provocatively dangled bait as Hancock fluttered his eyes and took a cheeky bite from his nibbly. “ _No, smart-ass._ I had them because I thought my paté might have been ready in time but it still hadn’t set when our date had started. I put them in there because I was hoping, fingers crossed, that we might stumble across something I could pair them with for a quick light nibble. Hey, I don’t see you complaining.”

“Nope.” He said, helping himself to another one and smearing yet another generous dollop of paste to its crown. Oh good. Wasn’t quite sure how that was going to go over. “Just happy to stuff my face. Haven’t eaten all day, Munch.”

I snorted admonishingly; pressing my half empty glass to the wall of my chest. The glass felt fine against my sweaty flesh; cool and smooth and prickled with tiny, cold droplets from the ice. I rolled it about, easing the heat from my skin.

“Well it ain’t no small wonder you went and got drunk this afternoon! And why you’ve lost all that weight. Skipping meals and all… sheesh. You’ll feel the back of my hand you keep up such bad habits, John Hancock.”

Munching satisfactorily on his fourth cheese and cracker, Hancock looked as if he could currently care less. “You want me to go and learn a lesson, I suggest you don’t reinforce it with a spanking, Munch. Find I’ll start doing more of whatever it was you wanted to stop me doing in the first place.” He held out a cautionary finger. “And for your information, I was _tipsy_. Hadn’t had near enough drink in me to go getting myself lit. And I haven’t lost that much weight. All the guys go on about is how fat I’ve gotten because of you.”

I scoffed, feeling a heaviness settle at the forefront of my brain, which suggested I was well on the way to getting good and ‘lit’ myself. “Please. You’re like a string bean compared to the men I used to date.”

“What? Fat circus performers?” He held his currently cheese free hands out on either side of himself; emulating a big rotund person bouncing around like an energetic beach ball with legs. “People who ate car tires and chewed through Teflon before inhaling crumb cake up their right nostrils?”

I was laughing now, one arm wrapped to my ribs whilst the other remained crooked at just the right angle to preserve the sanctity of my beverage. I was feeling light and breezy and much more relaxed than a I had been only minutes earlier. How lovely to just dispense with the expectations of how a couple ‘should’ behave and simply be who and _what_ we were. _This_ , right _here,_ was how we two had fallen in love. This eccentric, teasing, challenging friendship; this lively, cheerful banter. The honest to goodness, down to earth laughter; void of pretense. I sighed, straightened up and looked him in the eye. Melted down into my shoes just a little more.

“Ah… I love you, John Hancock. Ya dirty great prick.” Emboldened by the alcohol in my system and feeling much freer than I had in some time, I swished my way over to him. Arm around his neck and a kiss to his cheese scented mouth. For once, I didn’t feel at all guilty with asking. “You smoke that rollie yet?”

His brows lifted and he looked slightly impressed as he reached into his trouser pocket, sliding out the tobacco pouch. “Well, look at you. Never seen you _ask_ for one before.”

“Dammit all John, I’ve got the night off. We’re gonna have fun, we’re gonna _relax._ ” I watched as he unclipped the top flap of the pouch and took out a pre-rolled blunt. I held my lips steady as he slipped it slowly and near sensuously between them; using his lighter to strike the tip to life. I inhaled deeply before pinching the column of the joint and holding it out to the side, so as to exhume a heady column of smoke into the muggy night air. I sighed happily; feeling the start of that tender, nurturing fog creep in and cup its hands to the heaviest corners of my brain. Lifting them up and suspending them beyond the borders of the darkness into which they seemed perpetually steeped. My eyes glanced to Hancock; his admiring, desirous look. I smirked. “And you know what else? I ain’t gonna go feelin’ bad about it.”

The smile he wore in return, spoke of a knowing far greater than anything I felt I had ever broached in my short, tired and hypocritically lived life. The understanding that some good deeds came still from tarnished hands. That snow-white purity begot cruel deeds of a caliber unprecedented of those who had tasted the supposed vices on offer in a callous and unfeeling world. That peace and contentment were not always found in a still and sober world; elicited through the gentle stirrings of a blithesome stream and clucking of a fen bird in wanton longing of the spring it somehow knew was just about the corner. Sometimes, peace was smoke and drink and pills and crushing fingertips and bruising, lustful lips and things so dark they would turn the white of snow to bitter, grainy ash. It was this. It was _him._ And it was me.

“Ah… there now.” He uttered, his thumb grazing the dip of my chin like a concerto giving life to the vainglorious notes he had many a times observed upon the print stained page and ever so longed to breathe life into. “ _There’s_ that bad girl I knew was hidden in there somewhere.”

He watched me as I doubt he had ever done before; openly and with an unashamed hunger as we shared the blunt between us, drunk our drinks and nibbled crackers with tangy slips of tart cheese and zesty lashings of fruit paste. Hancock kept our drinks at a steady level; revealing three additional cocktail shakers in his cooler. Kept in the munificent company of approximately five or so beers and two presumptuously bold bottles of white wine. Guy had come prepared to stack the deck, in so few words. We could camp out here a couple of days and I would be content; surviving on cheese and drink and… well, whatever other means we could think of to entertain ourselves…

We talked the small stuff, which never seemed so small for just what it meant to listen and to learn more of the other. We spoke of life in general, of our friends, of Goodneighbor. Told jokes, had a little flirt; a touch and a kiss. None of which lingered. We teased the other, drifted out of reach; flipped our metaphorical skirts. A titillation game, of sorts. It was fun. His eyes grew more ravenous by the moment.

We kicked our shoes off and lazed in the Jack and Jill; sipping our drinks and holding hands until the oven timer went off and reminded me that we still had dinner to get to. I went scurrying inside, giving a high pitched and not at all unhappy yelp as Hancock’s palm slapped to my ass cheek. He was growing bolder with every sip of his drink and I, the more susceptive. Aware of how my breasts moved in the confines of my top; the tight cling of the shorts to my buttocks. More by the moment, I appreciated the impact that my body was having on him.

I assembled the burgers and their accompaniments on a pair of matching plates and marched them out to where Hancock was waiting; fifth cocktail down and more the breezy for it. He had taken down the buttons of his shirt to an inch or so above his navel and my eyes lapped up the display unashamedly. He saw me watching, smirked and used his fingers to ease the lapel back so as to reveal more of his left pectoral. I all but shoved the plate into his midsection; laughing at the ‘oof’ of air he ejected in response.

“Good old Juicy Lucy salsa burger as promised.” I said, turning and dropping down into my seat with such verve that my bare feet swung up into the air; whooshing past my nose. I crossed them over, tucking one up firmly under my rump, whilst allowing the other to casually dangle. “Now, I didn’t feel like doing vegetables with this and I knew fries would get soggy before we had a chance to sit down and eat, so I did some salad and homemade potato chips. Deep fried.” I picked one up and crushed it between my front teeth; shards splintering deliciously in all directions. “Got some good crunch to them, if I do say so myself.”

For a moment, I think Hancock felt the slightest bit envious of that chip but expatriated the thought with ruthless conviction. After all, dinner was a serious business; especially when one hadn’t eaten all day. “Seriously babe, I’m in hogs Heaven right now. Ya got _no_ idea how much I’ve been missing your cooking.” He took the burger into his right hand, pinched the center to grant it some stability and then steered it over towards me. Suspended, such as he had done with his cocktail glass earlier. “Cheers.”

I smiled, retrieving my own burger and tapping it against his. A few strands of shredded Bloodleaf broke free and flittered down to parts unseen. Grease trickled down over my fingers; eschewing a divergent pattern across the vein lines of my wrist.

“Enjoy. Put some meat back on those bones of yours.”

He winked, brought the burger back neatly to his lips and drove his teeth down through the crisp bun. Deeper still; puncturing through the cheese filled burger and gathering Radstag bacon, salsa, Bloodleaf and all into that generous bite. Juice spilled out over his lips and spread through the lines of his chin. I fancied it must have dripped down and made a mess of his trousers; if not for the plate that was in its way. I watched, fingers lightly clutched about my own burger but not yet partaking. His reaction was what I was waiting on and he didn’t in the least disappoint; tilting his head back and offing a deep, throaty moan such as he might have done whence indulging in some other, more primal and naked activity.

“Oh, damn…” He chewed gratuitously, like a cow masticating its cud. Nodded satisfactorily. “That is _just_ how I remember them on the trail… Good bit of kick to ‘em with the spice, darlin’.”

Pleased by his reaction, I brought my burger to my mouth and took a small bite; not wanting to stuff my face and inhibit the flow of the conversation too much. I gestured to his plate with a grease smeared finger. “Try putting some of the chips into the burger. It’s even better with that bit of crunch on in there.”

He did as suggested, peeling back the top bun and sprinkling some of the homemade potato chips onto the pattie before reaffixing and taking another big old helping. He sighed, nodded again and flashed me the OK sign with his fingers. “Oh yeah…” He pinched up one of the napkins I had dropped onto the table and used it to wipe sauce and cheese from the side of his mouth. “That shit… is _amazing_ , Munch. No kidding.”

 _Aww, shucks._ I sank my eyes down towards my own plate; focused on a piece of errant Bloodleaf that had landed there and tried not to let him see just how much his approval had impacted on me.

“Well thanks, hun. Was starting to think you were just being nice to me about it when we were on the trail because you wanted to get in my pants.”

Hancock pulled a face, setting down his cocktail glass without yet sipping from it. “Shoot girl, I ain’t gone and got there yet! I might _still_ be lying!” He laughed then, reaching over to rub a hand against my arm as I shot him a no doubt scandalized look. “I’m not. I’m _not._ You’re an awesome cook.”

“Thank _you._ ” I responded tartly, taking a much larger bite from my burger now and feeling the cheese within the pattie burst and leach out across my tongue. “Wow… we’ve definitely had our fill of dairy for the night, babe. Hope neither of us turns out to be lactose intolerant.”

Still entirely focused on the consumption of his burger, Hancock shook his head as though refusing to buy into such a ridiculous notion. “I don’t care. I’m still gonna keep eating it.” He further validated the statement by sinking approximately half the burger into his mouth and biting it off mid center. His cheeks bulged and strained with the effort of containing the food now nestled within them and I had to turn my back on the sight; less I projectile launch my own mouthful halfway across the terrace. Poor guy was _starving._ I started to worry that I hadn’t packed enough food to slake his clearly deprived appetite.

We finished our meal in a peaceful silence; marked only by the sounds of gnawing, gnashing teeth and ululating uvulas. Hancock paused in the midst of sucking off his fingers to pour another round of Fluffy Duck into our empty glasses, breaking open the second shaker when the first one tapped dry. I took another lavish sip; feeling very warm and more than a little light-headed. I seriously doubted we would need to crack open the wine and beer, what with how effective the cocktail had been in relaxing my jittery First-Date/First-Time nerves.

With plates now neatly polished off (save for the errant crumb or wilted edge of Bloodleaf) Hancock dragged himself up out of his seat and took both inside to rinse under the kitchen sink. I leaned forward, brazenly observing the shifting of his tight rump as he walked. That pretty coat of his sure had been covering up a lot of fun during our travels. And wasn’t he lucky to have a booty so taut and trim that he didn’t even require underwear to help support and shape it? _Mmm-mm._

I swung myself up, feeling flush and very, very good. I made my way over to the stone wall, gazing at where its edge terminated and wondered if I might be able to grab a hold of it; haul myself up and take a peek over the edge. Goodneighbor should look great from above, with all those fairy lights fanning the length of the street…

I set my glass down on the bar ledge, lowered myself into a semi-crouch and pushed up hard and fast with arms stretched high above my head. My fingers caught the edge of the wall and I sanctioned my grip, focusing on each of the muscles in my back and shoulders so as to drag myself up high enough to get a glimpse over into the street. I’d barely elevated myself an inch before I felt two hands cup to either side of my waist and drag me back down to earth.

“Whatcha doin’ there, nosy?” Hancock whispered, bringing me in tight against the line of his body; his lips tickling the shell of my ear. “Lookin’ to get lead between your eyes?”

I laughed softly, embarrassed that he had caught me in the act of doing something blatantly idiotic. That’s what happens when you let the alcohol do the thinking for you.

“I was… tryin’ ta get a look at Goodneighbor. From above. Seems a shame to not be able to enjoy the view.

“I’m enjoying _my_ view just fine.” He murmured, fingers massaging me gently through the seams of my shirt. I shot a look over my shoulder, prepared to debate his meaning but he cordoned me off with a fey wink of his closest eye. “I know. I know what you mean. Right shame about the wall. World we live in, you know.”

“Thought it’d be nice to just… take a look at your progress from above.” I said, leaning back into his embrace, pressing my fingers down between his own as they came to rest against my stomach. “You’ve come a long way…”

He gave a soft grunt; the kind that suggested that though he wasn’t disagreeing with my words, he was downplaying their meaning. “Still a ways to go.” His chin came to rest in my shoulder and he used his hand to gesture out towards the wall; splaying his fingers over a theoretical view in place of the one we were currently unable to appreciate. “By our estimates; in March of next year, we’ll match Diamond City for size and for resources. Come August, we’ll have outgrown them and become the major epicentre for out of state visitors to the Commonwealth. The main trade resource; with links to settlements up North and to the far West. With produce far outreaching that of anything previously available to the Commonwealth itself.” He panned the side of his hand up the wall; as though stacking imaginary objects one on top of the other. “We’ll build higher walls to surround the township and keep it safe. And double our security resources; funded through the installation of additional shops and businesses. If all goes according to plan, Goodneighbor will supersede Diamond City and become the established capital of the Commonwealth. A safe city. An accommodating city. To those, who care to do right by others.”

He trailed off, lifting his chin from my shoulder and looked at me with an enquiring flinch of his brow. He must have noticed the way that I had been staring at him; silent in my admiration. Heart thrumming to see him speak so confidently, with such passion for what he had created. With such hope for the future. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling; couldn’t keep my eyes from sinking deep into his own.

“What?” He asked, voice terminating into a slightly nervous titter. Unusual for him but then I was staring at the man like some star struck loon having just wandered up on their most idolized television icon in the supermarket. The edges of my smile crept up just that soupcon further; bemused by my thoughts. What a wonderful feeling it was; to be so very in love with someone whom you held in such high regard.

“Nothing.” I said, in response to his earlier query. “I’m just… so proud of you.” I slid my fingertips underneath his chin, guided his lips to mine and kissed him. “What you and the township have done is… it’s amazing.” I looked to him now with a rather pointed expression upon my face. “I just hope that… you didn’t do all of this for me.”

I admired more the fact that John didn’t make an attempt to downplay the truth and simply offered it to me as straight as the strong liquor he was so very partial to. “Did a few things for you, nothing surer. But the rest of it, I did _because_ of you. Because ya helped me grow up, Munch. Grow stronger, just… _grow_ in general. With your advice I was able to envision a world that would be invaluable to the people who were most in need of some support.” He kissed the side of my neck; slowly. Opulently. A soft little moan leaked out from my throat as his teeth grazed my pulse, parted for his tongue. It dabbed. Tasted. “This town is flourishing because of what you’ve given to me. A _purpose_. Some insight. I was… only half the man I could have been until the moment you walked through those gates.” His hands pressed tight to the rise of my stomach; conveying further still the serious mantle of his words. “I feel like I don’t have to run anymore. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.”

I _almost_ worked out a chuckle but it was a terribly meagre attempt; one that capitulated without protest into a throaty whimper as Hancock’s lips ghosted up to press in behind my ear.

“John, come on…” I stuttered, trailing my fingertips against his bare lower arms; his sleeves rolled back as some resistance to the heat. “You were always capable of this, you _know_ that. The only person who deserves credit in this situation is you.”

He wasn’t interested in permitting my deference. I think it suited him well, to temper his own success with accreditation to others; much as it had always been. “Wouldn’t have ever found the energy if not for you, sweetheart.” His breath eased softly against my ear, corresponding to the tempestuous movement of his hands as they eased their grip against my stomach and broke apart to wander other routes. “God, I love you for that. Think of all the people who’ll benefit because of what you’ve given to me. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever known…”

As my eyes slid across the cumulative stonework of the terrace wall, I registered in turn, the soothing caress of Hancock’s fingers ghosting the length of my upper arm. The short blonde hairs sectioned there stood to attention; bristling warily beneath his infringing touch. My palms pressed the fluttery segment of my top tight to my belly, my breath catching in my throat as I felt his chest pull flush with the line of my back. His fingers never faltered in their delicate administrations; trailing lightly across flesh that was rapidly goose pimpling. His right hand reached up, crossed to the left side of my neck and dexterously peeled strands of my hair away from the sweat speckled line of skin. He kissed me; his lips lingering with a quality I could only describe as… velvety. The fingers that had since been occupied in their teasing of my arm, drifted down to clutch about the curve of my hip. Subtly pulling my butt into what might have been the accommodating receptacle of his pelvis. If his desires hadn’t all but eradicated the once distinguished space…

“John… I…” My uncertain murmurs drifted up and expired into nothingness; tailgated shortly thereafter by a soft, heated moan. His kisses had migrated towards the back of my neck and were busy making their languid way down towards my shoulder. I felt his left-hand drift over my upper chest. He trailed his palm and fingers across; a caress to just beneath the indent of my collarbone. Somehow, all the more sensual for the very fact that he had kept his fingers clear of my breasts. I arched towards it; dropped my head so that my hair caught and drifted in the slight, warm breeze that was wending its way through Goodneighbor’s streets. So… this was it. He was making his move. In just a few short minutes time we would be…

I took his hands in my own, gently peeled them from my skin and stepped out of his grasp. I could no sooner avoid the mixed look of confusion and disappointment marring his features then I could pretend to not witness the Brotherhood’s Blimp dominating the sky whenever I stopped to take in a particularly intriguing cloud formation. And yet, just as soon as Hancock had permitted his own feelings to take precedence, his eyes softened, having dropped to take in the trembling that had since lain siege to my hands. I twisted my fingers together, reached up and rubbed a sweaty palm over an equally as sweaty neck.

“I’m sorry…” I said, wondering if I had ever felt my heart pound so very hard in all my life. For all the times I had run for my continued sanctity, had feared for the wellbeing and safety of those I had come to cherish, I could not recall a staccato that reverberated so deeply as this one. “I want this… I _do._ ”

I sighed, genuinely confused as to where the source of my trepidations lay. There was so much, I suppose, to be contended with. My first consensual lover since Nate. The first time since… Marowski. With a man who I had seen as a friend for over a year now. All factors that weren’t a matter of simply hurdling, regardless of how much Hancock and I cared for and desired one another.

“Can we just, uh…” I looked up into his eyes, saw that ever unerring patience beaming back at me and felt my muscles relax one by one. It was okay. I was _safe_ with John. Safe in a way that I could never have been with anyone else. “Have another… drink? Is that okay?”

It took a true man to maintain the civility and patience that Hancock demonstrated in that moment and I couldn’t have loved him more for his kindness to me; even in the face of his own disappointment.

“Heh. ‘Course.” He said, giving up that trademark, lazy smirk of his as he clucked my chin and trotted back inside to where he had left the cocktail shaker. He lifted it to shoulder height and gave it a few good, solid thrashes. “Ya have as many drinks as you want, Munch. Only condition is, I get ta join ya. Savvy?”

I grinned, relieved to see him being such a good sport about the whole thing. Poor guy must have been literally busting to get on with it and here I was slamming on the brakes _again_. He really was a gentleman; despite how some ignorant folks cared to label him. I had personally lost track of the number of times a guy had huffed, puffed and called me a dyke because I wasn’t ready to let him blow my house down. Goes to show.

“Thanks.” I said, smiling gratefully as Hancock strained another generous helping of Fluffy Duck into our matching, still foam rimmed cocktail glasses. He pinched them carefully by the stems and brought them over to where I was waiting by the door. He gestured me inside before passing the delicious, frothy beverage over into my waiting hand. We clinked the edges together; as per tradition, before sinking back a nice, heady gulp. Whatever it took to take the edge off of this nagging, nascent anxiety.

“Hey… wanna hear a joke?” Hancock asked suddenly; his eyes shining bright with his genuine desire to impart what he must have considered to be a particularly humorous anecdote. “Was savin’ it up for Deacon but I figure you could probably use a rib-tickler right about now.”

Well, there was no denying I could use something to relax my nerves. I smirked, offering up a throwaway glance of my hand.

“Fire away.”

“What’s the difference between acne and a Catholic Priest?”

I could tell by the pleased expression on Hancock’s face that this one was likely to be an extremely offensive doozy; the kind he usually reserved for his heckling sessions with the boys and far from the ears of the ladyfolk. Progressive as John was, there were still moments where he operated with an older gentleman’s decorum; keeping certain talk and behaviour discreet where women were concerned. I might have thought it sexist, if he hadn’t once divulged that this practice was very much the standard his father had impressed upon him. A man for whom he reserved incomparable respect and veneration; even now, so many years after his death. Hard to argue with that kind of thinking.

I didn’t bother with trying to figure out the punch-line; certain only that it was likely filthy and soul crushing. Namely, the sort of black humor that he and I both went crazy for. Damned if I was gonna rain in on his big distasteful parade.

“Um… no idea.” I said, holding my arms out to my side in place of the shrug I might have otherwise offered up. “What’s the difference?”

“Acne usually comes on a boys’ face after twelve.”

I snorted yellow froth down out of my nose; an ironic and unfortunately timed ejaculation that left my sinuses stinging and eyes watering. Hancock meanwhile was getting his biggest laugh out of my reaction; turning and slapping a hand to his knee, near bent in two.

Having recovered some, I leaned over and lay my own palm to the wall of his spine; the sound of my slap reverberating around the room. I tried not to let him see the smile curling the corners of my own lips.

“Oh my God… that’s so, _so_ bad. Oh my God…” I groaned, gingerly dabbing up droplets from the corners of my eyes; hoping that my makeup hadn’t been ruined. I pressed the back of my hand up against my nostrils; groaning to see bubbles of fluffy duck clinging to my skin. Hancock waved a finger at me.

“Hey. Know how much you hate wastin’ alcohol Munch but you lick that up, I’m out.”

Of course, I immediately distended my tongue as far as I was able, curling the tip up slightly like a lizard’s tongue as I lowered it towards the frothy trail on the back of my hand. Hancock, calling my bluff, dashed forward, reaching for the back of my head as though to shove me down onto my hand. I reflexively jerked it away, sucking my tongue back into my mouth.

“Okay, okay… you think you’re so clever. How about this one?” I said, wiping the back of my hand on my shirt; my thoughts ricocheting about inside of my skull. Trying to unearth a joke as equally, if not dirtier, than the one Hancock had produced. “Know what a 6.9 is?”

“Hmm, well, I surely would _not_ know.” Hancock drawled, craning his head back to peruse the dancing lines of shadows as they strobed across the ceiling. “Wouldn’t be a good thing ruined by a period, would it?”

Ah, shoot. Well, what could I expect; having chosen to tangle with the master? I racked my brain for another, cursing offside all the while much to Hancock’s not so subtle amusement.

“Okay.” I said, pausing to take a quick slug back of my cocktail. Feeling it warm the chambers of my chest as it slid down past my gullet and into the recesses of my stomach. “What’s the difference between being kinky and perverted?”

The twinkle that flashed through Hancock’s eyes plainly stated that he knew the punchline to this one as well. Sure enough:

“I suppose kinky is when you tickle your missus’s ass with a feather and perverted is when you use the whole chicken.”

“God _dammit!!_ ” I cursed, turning and slicing my fist down through the air in frustration; more the annoyed for the laughter it evoked from Hancock. I scrambled back through my meagre collection of dirty jokes; all compiled from an endless parade of evenings spent in the company of both my old bouncer buddy from back at the titty bar in North Dakota and the BBQ’s with Nate’s old army chums. There was a particular guy he always invited… a Dorian, something or rather. Real filthy son of a bitch. Nate always tried to get him to shut up whenever I trotted out of the house to join them; concerned by the crass, unfiltered quality of his buddy’s jokes. He hadn’t been able to censor all of them however and it was to this now dear deceased and unequalled pervert to whom I channelled my energy; casting out for some stroke of inspiration from beyond the grave. It came to me, so sudden it was almost spooky. The one joke that Nate had ended up pushing his chair over for. That had sent beer spurting wildly out of my mouth; so contorted as I was by unbridled laughter.

I turned back to Hancock; grinning and secure in the knowledge that there was no way in Hell he was going to best me with this one. Cat was in the bag.

“Okay. This perverted guy walks over to this good-looking girl and says to her, ‘Bend over and spell RUN.’ So, she bends over, feels this sharp pain and says ‘R U N-”

I stopped, not even close to delivering the punch line but unable to continue for the expression this seemingly harmless joke had wrought on Hancock’s face. He turned away, eyes flinched shut and lips pursed so tightly together that the lines about his mouth met in the centre like the intricate spools of a spider web. I wondered for a moment what the matter was and then, cringed as the realization hit me like a tonne of bricks. Of _course._ Of fucking _course._

I glanced away, swiping my tongue out over lips that suddenly felt altogether too dry. My lipstick must have been matting a bit. A strange thing to notice at a time like this but easier to focus on than Hancock’s devastated expression.

It was still new to him, of course. And he was obviously struck by the reality of it; his own helplessness in being unable to both prevent the act and rid me of it. Aware too, no doubt, that Marowski was still out there. Still skulking about, lauding having this one thing up on the mayor who he quite clearly despised.

I cursed inwardly; berating myself for my stupidity and short-sightedness. Why the hell would I go so far as to pick a joke that pretty much made light of rape? Even if I myself felt recovered enough to not intrinsically link the two instances together, Hancock clearly wasn’t there yet. He was still… hurting for me. Still seeing those awful pictures flash across his mind...

“John… John, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t-”

His hard, piercing gaze cut me off; eyes jerking up to meet my own with such intensity it about drove the remaining breath from my lungs. He looked tearful but equally strong and determined; all in that one strange, beautiful expression of contradiction.

“No… no baby-girl, you don’t got nothin’ to be sorry for.” He insisted, shaking his head lightly from side to side. “Like I said… sometimes I just… It’s just gonna…”

He loosed a sigh, rolling his eyes back and pushing his tongue into his cheek; an gesture he often adopted in those very few instances he was lost for words. The traditionally veiled sclera flashed from one side to the next as his eyes swivelled in their sockets; a clucking sound emanating from behind his teeth. He struggled to find his meaning.

“It’s just gonna… push to the surface, sometimes.” He finished, which seemed as good a description for intrusive thoughts as anything. He slugged back what remained of his drink in one, firm gesture of finality before banging the glass down onto the nearby mantle. He crossed the room, hands slowly and carefully reaching up for my face with the self-same caution I had demonstrated whence approaching that Radstag all those months ago. His thumbs and index fingers framed my jaw as though it were glass; his palm and remaining fingers pressing lightly to my neck. He was staring into my eyes with that intense way that he had; evoking my attention with visual hooks. I couldn’t look away; had no means to struggle against the barbs that held me captive whilst he slowly and patiently reeled me in.

“I love you.” He whispered, ducking his head and pressing his lips against my right cheek. He did the same to the left before trailing them up just high enough to plant between my eyes. “God, I love you, so _much._ There ain’t words that can do it justice. You… you’re the best thing I got.”

His lips quirked into a smile and he chuckled patiently as I brought my trembling glass back up to my lips and slucked down the last of the fluffy duck that had been swirling about in the base. He waited for me to finish; spooning a shaky finger around to fetch up the last of the froth and sucking it free from my flesh. He tolerated this meagre stalling tactic for two more rotations (by which point the glass was so clean the pad of my finger squeaked against it) before gently extricating it from my hand and reaching over to place it on a nearby shelf. Having satisfactorily relieved me of my self-styled distraction, he turned once more to meet my eyes; brushing the backs of his fingers down over my cheek. They were rough and dry and tickled lightly where they made contact.

“I ain’t gonna hurt ya, Eve.” He whispered and the fact that he had actually used my name sent an unbidden shiver down along the backs of my legs. My vision fractured as tears grazed the surface of my eyes. I felt his thumb caress the no doubt patchy plateau of my lower lip, as he set yet another gentle, patient kiss to the space between my eyes. “You say stop, I’ll pull the plug right here and now.”

“I don’t.” I said immediately and then, because I felt as though I hadn’t been clear in my intentions, added: “Want to stop, that is. I don’t wanna stop.”

He smiled serenely, dropping both hands down now to take my own. He held them gently, running his thumbs over my knuckles; eyes tethered within the depths of my return stare. He tilted his head ever so slightly to the side; a subtle gesture that nonetheless commanded great attention.

“Well then…” He said, chuckling lightly as he moved closer still; planting a kiss to the tip of my nose. “Ain’t no rush, is there?” He pressed his forehead to mine, the sweet scent of his breath drifting out to warm the already heated pillows of my cheeks. The smell of his cologne lingered in my nostrils. “Let’s take it slow. Go into it steady. Imagine we’re just… kissin’ for the first time.”

He lowered his voice further still; bringing it close to my ear before adding, with a very cheeky nuance I might say: “I don’t know about you; but I’m gonna imagine we’re back in Wanderer’s Respite. Hope you don’t mind.”

I tittered softly; knocking my nose against his cheek in a light reprimand. “So long as you don’t include those two Ghouls in your little fantasy… s’all good with me.”

Hancock gave a brief, distracted laugh; which he capped as quickly as he had allowed it to transpire. He was giving me that intense, once over again; with a vulnerability in his expression that reminded me just what a controlled actor he could be at times. For all intents and purposes, he looked as though he _were_ about to kiss me for the first time. He had even managed to affect a look of nervousness; an expression not often seen on the incalculably smooth (no pun intended) and controlled montage of Hancock’s face.

I let him initiate this time; having stolen the opportunity from him when I swanned back into town. When his lips pressed to mine; so soft at first, I could scarcely believe this was the same man who had razed me with the passion of his desires in that balmy sitting room that very afternoon. It was a far from tentative kiss but more tender than I had expected. He even kept his mouth closed; though his hands had since drifted up to cup to my face once more. Loving, delicate yet distinctly possessive; this gesture.

And then, with a tilt of his head, some of that firmness I had since come to associate with his kiss returned; his lips parting just enough to take in my bottom lip. It was so sensuous… so unexpectedly seductive that my heart was set to violently pounding in my chest. I wasn’t breathing properly, having been caught by surprise in the nature of his approach and was forced to quickly suck back a breath through the part in our lips. I thought he might try and sneak his tongue into my mouth at this juncture but he kept it sheathed behind his teeth; content to use his lips for the time being. I was grateful. I was disappointed. I was impatient.

As our kiss deepened, I slid my hands around and over his hips; feeling the flex of his muscles through the back of his shirt. I trailed them up until I could clasp to his Rhomboids; bringing our bodies tight to one another’s in the process. He wrapped me up; one arm about my shoulders, the other fashioned to the sway in my back. I thought he might relent then and start kissing me with harried abandon but he remained true to his word; his kisses still as gentle and languid as they had been from the beginning.  

We paused a moment, sharing a soft, tender chuckle as I grazed my nose against the upper ridge of his nasal cavity. His fingers curled and flexed against the bare flesh of my upper back; his palm providing a sensuous pressure to the curve of my spine.

“Ya know… I probably did the right thing.” He murmured, his eyes boring deeply into my own as I opened them. “But I still regret not kissin’ you that afternoon at _Wanderer’s Respite_.”

The way he had looked at me whilst we had been standing in the water. I had been admiring the sunset. He, in turn, had been admiring me. How many times, I wonder, had he held back for fear of screwing things up? Because something about the timing had felt… _off_ , in some way? Because of Nate, the Rolling Ranch… because of Hancock himself? The fear I would reject him for any number of things that he ever so quietly felt self-conscious about? Lack of worth, lack of epidermis. Drug issues, God, who knew?

It’s true, I would never have expected a man as proud and as confident as Hancock to have fallen in love with me and in such a short space of time, to boot. And to hold onto that love so long; in spite of the lack of reciprocation. Most men I had known wouldn’t have wasted their time. They’d have wanted some return to soothe their ego; to continue to stoke those embers of desire, less they dwindle down to stone cold coal.

My mother’s words, what I had considered to be both funny and true, rang through my mind. _Women need to feel loved to have sex and men need to have sex to feel loved._ A little sexist, I suppose. And never the less true, when it came to Hancock. I had given him perhaps allusions, here and there. Little titbits of my own feelings of confused attraction and genuine admiration for his character. Had this been enough to keep those fires burning intensely? And just why he had waited so patiently for the day I might return them, I still couldn’t pretend to understand.

“Why _me,_ John?” I asked, the question rising from me with such abruptness I too was taken by surprise. I hadn’t stopped a moment to think about it; the words, as genuine as any I had ever spoken, simply burst from me. “I know that… we’ve been through a lot of shit together. That explains a lot. It forms a bond unlike any other. I… I get that. And I guess it’s a hell of a notch in the bedpost; banging the cryo-frozen chick from two-hundred years ago-”

“It ain’t about sex.” Hancock said tersely, eyes furrowed with temporary annoyance. They lifted to match the cheeky smile that stole across his lips. “Not… entirely, anyway.”

I rode the silence; waiting to see where he was going with this. It was a little trick I had learned during Legal Studies; how to let the moment build upon itself. The natural instinct was to want to rescue others from a quiet moment, because it feels uncomfortable. We feel as though it is a negative reflection of our ability to keep a conversation going; that we aren’t interesting or entertaining.

But silence could be powerful. It allows one to deeply consider a point that was being made. Very effective in the court room, especially whence coupled with intense, challenging eye contact. Hancock wore it, took his time to weigh up his words and deeply consider them in turn. His fingers brushed my cheek.

“You were made for me.” He said finally. Smiled, pressed his thumb to my cheek and brushed his forehead against mine. “And I was made for _you._ What other option we got, but to love each other?”

A virtuous response that caused my chest to swell with emotion, for the equally simple fact that he hadn’t gone to lay it on thick or palaver in the stroking of what diminished ego I was in possession of. It was so earnest and genuine; perhaps the sweetest words I had ever heard anyone use in reference to me. They filled me to the brim with avaricious desire; flooded my body with warmth and need and I surrendered to it with naught but a splinters edge remaining of the walls I had thrown up around myself. I coveted him to the dips and valleys of my body; dug my fingers to the plains of his back and brought our lips together; time and time over in innumerable congress. I slid my hand down, exited the sway of his spine and cupped about the cheek of his ass; squeezing and mauling with a disregard entirely unwarranted of a lady. Thankfully, I wanted no part in being a lady at that very moment.

Hancock groaned softly into the waiting cavern of my mouth; turning me in his hold so that my back pressed to his chest once more. I hooked my arm around his neck, guiding his lips down to meet my own as his hands worked their way up under the loose gathering of my top. He kissed me such as I had never been kissed before; mouth parted, lightly touching at times, with feathery licks and nips between. I devoured each and every one of his delicious, heated breaths; his tongue dancing and tracing along the outline of my lips. He wrestled my top up over my head and for once, I didn’t give a damn for the condition it left my hair in. I’d never seen such a serious, heated expression on Hancock’s face. The moment felt as strong and as dualistically fragile as a pane of glass; too much pressure and I feared it would splinter and crack.

He must have figured out at some point during the evening, just where the clip on my bra was situated, because his fingers went directly to it; reaching to just below my breasts and pinching it up and away from the indent it had rent in my flesh. Before unclipping it however, he turned me once more and took a good long look at me. He cupped his hands over my breasts; gently lifted and tilted his head from side to side as a means to better appreciate how the look came together. He gave an amused sounding huff, which lent me to cock my own head in curiosity.

He explained. “Amazing how much that girl remembers… Meg, I mean.” He distended the strap of my bra for a moment, to further indicate just which Meg he had been referencing. “Told her _once_ I had a fantasy about a gal wearing a bra that opened in the front. Trust her to go and whack this one on ya.”

“She’s a weapon…” I mused, sucking in a breath as Hancock reached in for the clasp and flicked it apart with greater ease than a male had any right to possess. He kept his hands on the cups of the bra, his own breaths gaining traction as he stared at the now voided space between; moving my breasts about so as to better appreciate the way that they swelled and flexed. I could only suppose. He brought his face in close, distended his tongue and licked the vacant stretch of skin; twisting about so as to lap to the visible curve of first the right and then the left breast. I shivered, clutched my hands to his hips and pressed my thighs together tight as the ache between them reached a feverous pitch. I wondered how long my feet would be capable of holding me up?

John’s palms lifted free the now loose cups of my bra; claiming my breasts and caressing them. With greater gentility and reverence than he had shown earlier in the day; when the heat and the alcohol had gotten the better of the both of us. He trailed his fingers up, took the straps from my shoulders and gently steered them down my arms. I lifted my shoulders, accelerated the process by slipping my hands back. The night air was refreshing against my heated flesh and I welcomed it, just as eagerly as I welcomed Hancock’s palms as they tossed the bra aside and settled firmly to my upper back. He brought me in, eyes slipping closed as his lips pressed to each of my breasts in turn. I sighed, the sound as unbidden as the pleasure I thought I might not have ever the once found at the hands of another. My fingers fumbled to take apart the remaining cinched buttons on his shirt; so desperate was I to feel the bareness of our flesh press together. I couldn’t get a grip however and in my frustration, I grabbed the lower most hem and tugged violently upward; intending to drag the dastardly thing up over his head.

Hancock, snorting with amusement, cooperated by taking off his hat and then raising his arms and allowing me to tug the shirt up over his shoulders. He got briefly entrapped by the roll in his sleeves but we were able to free him with very little effort.

I tossed the shirt aside and wrapped my arms up around his back; slowly dragging what existed of my nails over the still itchy scars adorning his flesh. He moaned directly into my mouth; hands cupped to each side of my neck, nursing my jaw so very tenderly. Brought me closer so that my breasts pressed and mashed to his chest. He felt slippery, hot. He devoured my lips with his kisses; like a man dying of thirst, delving his face into a fresh water spring. But of course it was to be expected; he had restrained his libido and supressed his passions for over a year now. His own body and imagination his lone outlets for the feelings that roiled beneath the surface. Emotional starvation. And now… now he had every intention to feast.

Our hands trailed, traced and explored every inch of our upper torsos; lingering up the spinal indent, fingering scars, palming the flexing mounds cloaking muscle. Hancock’s mouth cupped to my jugular, encouraging me to tilt my head back so that he could lavish my neck with kisses so soft, it was like being caressed with one of my finer makeup brushes. Beneath my ear, he increased the pressure; sucked harder, grazed with his teeth. Left the first, unmistakeable stake of his claim. I couldn’t have minded less than if he had gone so far as to have pierced my flesh and left me bleeding.

“Yes…” I softly breathed, cupping the back of his neck, pushing to me harder. Savouring the sting; the wholly loving, reverential sting; the mark blooming from the bursting of any tiny number of inconsequential vessels swirling beneath the skin. “I’m _yours_ , darling. I’m _yours._ ”

He groaned loudly, lancing to my lips once more as I in turn bound his shoulders tightly within the confines of my arms. He pulled me against him, the tips of my toes just about leaving the floor. I thought he meant to press me down through the cracks in his skin; so eager he seemed to consume me with his passions. But next thing I knew, the heat had left the sweat streaked front of my body and Hancock was kneeling at my feet; his fingers scrabbling at the buttons of my shorts. I supressed the urge to laugh; thinking to myself how I had imagined this moment and finding it lacked a great deal of the pomp and parade I had been expecting.

But then it occurred to me that a performance piece was not at all what I wanted. That was the sort of shit Hancock’s other women would have experienced; him playing a part, being a version of himself that was more about their expectations than his own. He wasn’t playing any of those sorts of games with me. He wanted me and he didn’t want to stand on ceremony. He wanted to lay claim to my body as his true, uncensored self; not the John Hancock he had constructed for the benefit of the watching, scrutinizing eyes of others.

He finally managed to pop the resistant little button free and he jammed the zip downwards so fast he momentarily caught the material of the shorts in its teeth. It took a few, precious seconds to jigger it free; his frustrations further mounting amidst the amused chuckles I was directing at his efforts. The dim candlelight cast dark, impenetrable awnings beneath his brows; cloaking his eyes deep in shadow. Adding further intensity to the situation; gifting him with deeper layers of obscurity.

I felt the zipper yank free and John’s fingers quickly whipped back to the sides of my shorts; hooking through the hem where they rested rough and warm against my already heated flesh. He peeled my shorts slowly down over the curves of my thighs, his fingertips tracing soft, sensuous lines against my skin as he went. His eyes feasted on the plains of my flesh as the fabric worked in tandem to veil and reveal each portent.

When he reached my ankles, I pressed a hand to the dappled wall of his back; trying to extricate my feet from the material as delicately as possible by stepping back out of the leg holes. I managed the delicate little manoeuvre with great propriety then I’m certain I had ever possessed and Hancock did me the kind favor of disposing of the meddlesome shorts; by balling them up and flinging them to the far side of the room.

I was still and very quiet then; watching for his reaction. Uncertain rather as to why this moment impacted me so, for he had seen just about as much of me in _Wanderer’s Respite;_ though of course my breasts had been covered on that occasion. I was self-conscious about my stomach and thighs; not to mention the hardly-there nature of the undies and the very little skin they deigned to veil. I focused on Hancock’s eyes, which moved about from one leg to the next; taking a good, long look at the shear panel on the front of my panties. The corners of his lips creased into a smile, proof enough that he was pleased with what he saw. I might have relaxed to see it but the feeling of his hands sliding up my legs had quite the reverse effect. Tiny spikes of pleasure welled in my chest, prodding short, sharp gasps out from between my lips. He must have remembered my impassioned reactions earlier and set his fingertips down my thighs in a temperate glaze. The sensation made me squirm and flinch as my nerves instinctively bucked beneath his sensuous ministrations. This gentle teasing, the prolonging of visceral perception and pleasure… that he could maintain such patience still! Already, he was more the extraordinary lover than most anyone I had ever been with. Which said a lot considering we both still had our pants on!

With a heated breath that one could have weighed the density of, Hancock took me by the hips and gently urged me about; so that my big old butt was now pretty much wedged into his face. One might have expected that he would regret this decision, but Hancock on the contrary appeared pleased with what he saw. If the soft moan he elicited was any such indicator of his desires.

“Ah damn…” He murmured and I glanced over my shoulder to see him drop his gaze to the floor and chuckle his consternation. “Looks like I’m gonna be payin’ Meg’s rent until the fucking Rapture.”

I chanced a smile, bringing my arm up automatically to press across my breasts; concealing the view of the nipples. “Ya don’t think I look ridiculous in ‘em?”

His eyes shot up, brows bending and warping to form an expression of plain disbelief. “ _Ridiculous?_ You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’, Munch. Ass like yours was made for these.” He leaned in, pinched his teeth about the lacy hem of the band that stretched across my buttock and tugged lightly; creating a gap between the decadent material and my skin. He let it snap back into place; smiling as he set his hands once more to either side of my hips and then, to my flushed astonishment, leaned in and pressed his face to the crease of my ass with a contended murmur.

I very nearly made some crack (no pun intended) about all the cheese we’d eaten earlier and how he was effectively playing Russian Roulette but decided against it. Jokes were all well and good but there was a time and place and this just wasn’t it. Hancock was indulging himself, true. But in that same vein he was complimenting my fragile self-esteem, boosting my feelings of self-worth and making me feel sexy and desirable. It had been a long time coming and I needed to do myself a favor and stop trying to diminish the intensity of it. It was fine and good to give myself over to such impassioned feelings. To take them seriously. To believe that Hancock, truly, deeply desired me. The proof was here, rubbing its face all over my butt cheeks.

I felt the ridges of his teeth against my right buttock; upper and lower bridges making their mark before his lips followed suit. They dug, his tongue sucked. Blood vessels ruptured and bruised; another blazing testimony to Hancock’s languid progress across my body. Damn… he _really_ had a thing for giving hickeys, didn’t he? His hands moved about from my hips; lingering across the scars I had received on my bottom during my time in the Commonwealth. That of the Stingwing. The other… from the hook of Barbados. Hancock spent a particularly long time fussing over this one; rubbing and then tenderly kissing the rigid welt. It went down quite a ways; meandering between my legs and terminating just shy of my vagina. He didn’t follow it all the way, contenting himself instead with a few stout, indulgent squeezes of the lowermost curves of my ass. The embarrassment I’d been feeling earlier had all but leached away and I was sighing softly to feel the dexterous attentions of his hands; like a sumptuous massage you keep wishing would go just that tiny bit longer. To alleviate some of that incessant pounding between your thighs with deliberate, decadent strokes.

I felt Hancock’s chest alight to the line of my back, his palms trailing a heated path up either side of my body before tenderly easing my arm away from my breasts. He took them into his hold, sucking at the side of my neck as he squeezed and softly thumbed my nipples; bringing my back into a reflexive arch and strumming a moan out from the deep nadir of my being. God, they still felt so sensitive; which was always the case for a week or two after my period had sunk up. Probably meant I was ovulating too, which went strides towards explaining why I was so fucking horny. Always been the time to strike when Nate and I were trying to make babies. Something I would never need concern myself with Hancock, which was a welcome damn relief in spite of his own feelings on the matter…

He kissed to my mouth, throat reverberating with a seasoned growl and then wrapped both arms tight about my chest; his textured skin feeling a little strange against my bare breasts. Strange but not unpleasant. He attempted to lift me, perhaps meaning to make for the bed but I was heavier than expected and the angle was awkward. He struggled stroppily, grunting with vexation and ended up pretty much just dragging my heels along the floor; a welcome treatment for my dry skin, I confess. It was so silly and cumbersome that I couldn’t keep from laughing and Hancock, to his credit, was quick to join me.

“What? What you laughing at?” He challenged, smiling into my unabashed chortling visage. “You think this is funny?”

“What are you even trying to _do?_ ” I chuckled, my feet swishing off dramatically to the side as though he were attempting to use my legs to mop the floor. My breasts were starting to ache under the tight pull of his arms; the skin stretching as a result of that flesh on flesh pinch. “We’re going to both end up on the floor if you’re not careful.”

“Oh. So _that’s_ the thanks I get for trying to be romantic with you. I see how it is now.” He succeeded finally in dragging me to the bed and with a mighty twist of his hips, hefted me atop the mattress. I gasped as I made contact, the air thrusting out violently from my lungs only to delineate quickly into burbling giggles. I wrapped my arm about my breasts, clamping them tight to my chest so as to prevent them from jiggling all over the place. A censorship I’m certain Hancock didn’t appreciate; if the churlish look in his eyes was anything to go by.

He stood staring down at me, skin flush gold in the lights from the candles; eyes slipping and sliding across my body like an oil soaked hand. I admired him in turn; the permeation of lines, tracing peaked hillocks of muscle, the spattering of healed tears and scars. I stretched my legs out, lifted my knees and rubbed my ankles together; rotated my hip gently from side to side. The thankless look in his eyes promptly translated to one of hunger and he thumbed the band of his sash in means of invitation.

“You’re in for it now.” He burred, contradicting the leisurely tone of his voice with the harried movements he made shortly thereafter. Sliding up onto the bed, as though he were an interminably suicidal Sea creature intent on beaching itself and hovered over my body; suspended by the bridge of one arm. With the other, he trailed tepid fingertips just a hairsbreadth above the flesh of my thighs and stomach, his eyes devouring me with greater intensity than that possessed by his hands. A burl of warm, ravening emotion pinned the sides of his lips back from his teeth, before he drove his mouth down firm against my own.

The depth of his kiss staggered me; how it lingered, yet how much longing was conveyed in the movement of his mouth. I sank into it; matched his intensity inch by inch. Pressed the palm of my hand into the lovely slope that his waist made with the dip of his spine. Tiny rivers of sweat guided my progress and his skin had started to feel tacky beneath my touch. All the harder I pressed then to him; feeling not revulsion as some might have suspected, but irrepressible desire. The meeting of our flesh acting much as a potent accelerant that wrought the flames within me to a blistering, unassailable inferno.

Hancock eased a soft moan down into the waiting cavern of my mouth; past the slipping, tangling motion of our tongues and closed his hand about my wrist. “Move your arm…” He instructed; his voice a breathless undertone that nevertheless conveyed his desire in this instance to be obeyed. It deadened the muscles in my shoulders and the arm went limp, heat rushing through me as Hancock carefully guided it away from my breasts; allowing it to drift down to rest beside me atop the charcoal colored bedsheet. He sighed, eyes fanning to half-mast as he gazed down at my exposed breasts; desire practically radiating off of him in waves. Here was a man who most definitely liked the tits.

“ _That’s it… mmmh-mmh._ ” He murmured, dropping his head down to lap my left nipple; waiting just long enough for me to start squirming and whimpering before sucking it into his mouth. Our voices intermingled now; with him moaning quite as loudly as I was, his hand reaching up and squeezing my breast between his thumb and fingers. Keeping it plump whilst he sucked. His other hand skated around to press to the sway of my back, pulling so that I arched up to meet him. He tugged at the nipple with his lips; licked and flicked with his tongue before dropping his lower lip and swallowing it back up in a deep, passionate kiss. Another not so soft whimper at the sweet, tender ache; those delicate nerve endings sparking to life. I twisted beneath him, eyes cast towards the ceiling and legs winding about; feeling very hot and damp when they separated from the wrinkled surface of the bedsheets.

“God, you’ve got the most beautiful tits…” He murmured, voice muffled from where it circled about my areola. My spine fell flush with the clammy sheet of the bed as he released me, using both hands now to press my breasts together and restore the cleavage that had since been lost. He buried his face against it; not dissimilar to how he had nuzzled into the cheeks of my ass earlier and gave a satisfied sigh in response. I laughed a little, rubbing my hand against the back of his head as though entertaining the whims of a mischievous child.

“No motorboating now.” A statement which naturally resulted in Hancock burrowing his face deeper between my breasts and whipping it from side to side with a muffled warbling sound that sent vibrations through the wall of my chest. I snorted; descending further into uncontrollable giggles that I think had more to do with the amount I’d had to drink than it did Hancock’s rather youthful behavior.

“Oh Jesus…” I chuckled, running a hand up and through my sweaty bangs as the giggling gradually tapered out. “This isn’t quite how I imagined this moment…”

Hancock reluctantly surfaced from my bosom, pitted cheeks a little rosier than they had been moments earlier. He smiled with indisputable loving warmth; taking my hands in his. “How did ya think it was going to go, Munch?” He inquired, flattening my palms to either side of his lean, scar perforated stomach. Used his own to guide my hands up the length of his body. “Like something out of one of your daft books? This is you and me, kid.” My fingertips skimmed the rungs of his ribcage, crossed over to circle atop the mounds of his pectorals. Thumbs glancing over pert nipples; a shade pinker than the rest of his skin. Sweat coiled in thin rivulets against the column of his throat; splitting apart as they met the spaces between my fingers. “We make our own rules.”

The touch of him, the way that my hands looked as they traversed the plains of his body, left little within me that spoke of the quality of restraint. Overcome, I launched myself up; hands sliding around his neck, so as to jerk our mouths together once more. He gripped me in turn, our chests mashing together and condensing further all that heat and wetness to pool and puddle in what nooks were made available in the long-awaited union of our bodies. I swung my leg over to wrap to his waist, our voices joined together in a torrid duet of barely stifled moans, gasps and whimpers. Hands grasping what they could; fingers plying a covetous trade, slipping on skin too unctuous to maintain any sort of grip.

With naught a warning but the sudden parting of our lips, Hancock tipped me backwards onto the bed; the grip of my legs about his waist keeping us joined where the heat of our passions could be most readily enjoyed. He panted desirously, hand sliding up my body from navel to breast; grasping and squeezing with the aid of the sweat he had purposefully gathered from the steppes of my flesh. The nodes of my spine pinched and arched, passion taking charge so that I found myself pressing my hand to his; guiding the movements of his fingers. I moaned softly and tilted my head back; a sight Hancock looked upon with lower lip pinched between teeth and eyes hazy in their arousal. He took both breasts into his palms now, thumbing my nipples before dropping his head to suck and lick each in turn.

“God damn… I could do this all fucking night…” He groaned, pushing up into me with his groin; erection prodding my inside thigh with a blind, yet insistent hunger. I decided then to challenge his statement, reaching down to grab the side hem of my knickers. My heart hammered as a direct response to the audacious thoughts I’d been entertaining. This was nothing however, to compare to the aching throb which resonated from the shallows of my sweet spot, pitching to greater upsurges still as I pinched the flimsy panel of material and drew it to the side; granting Hancock a good old glimpse of the goodies.

“You sure about that…?” I murmured, with a teasing wink as I released the elastic so that the material sprung neatly back into place. It was enough of a look however, to pitch Hancock’s libido into fever pitch. He sat back, jaw dropping beneath the heated weight of the breaths he now deposited. Even in the warmth of the surrounding air, I could swear they left steam.

“ _Shit._ ” He hissed, taking up my legs from around himself and bringing them together as neatly as the blades of a pair of scissors. He bent them, pushing my knees up to meet my belly, keeping me supported at the ankle. Our eyes met and we smiled in harmony, Hancock pushing me forward just enough to lift my ass ever so slightly from the bed. The air felt good against my clammy flesh; even better when Hancock gave me a sharp, yet unremittingly tender slap to my mostly bare left cheek. A path soon to be uninhibited, as his fingers slid further afield to clasp a firm hold of the lace trimmed hem.

“Bon voyage.” He said, winking as in the same breath he yanked my panties up hard and fast, lifting my legs with his left hand so that they rested firm atop his shoulder. Feet pointed up directly towards the ceiling; such as you might have supported in infant whence changing its napkin. He used both hands now to guide the underpants up off of my hips, over my thighs and along my lower legs.

To tease him, I deliberately hindered the process; snapping my legs apart at the ankle so as to prevent him from tugging the tiny underthing’s free entirely. I realized quickly the unexpected side effect this manoeuvre had; namely that of him copping a good look between my thighs as they sprang apart. Sure enough, his eyes widened; proof that he hadn’t been remiss of the obvious and he temporarily negated the panties existence entirely; leaving them suspended between my ankles like a lewd flag spun for the purpose of attracting clientele to the Boston Bordello. I decided to crash his party, dropping my hand down and pressing it between my legs; neatly blocking off his view. His eyes sharpened immediately, the trance broken and he started at me with the offer of an unappreciative snort.

“Spoilsport.”

I shrugged in what I could only hope was a coy manner, fluttering my lashes at the churlish expression on his face. “All in good time, darling.”

“That how it’s going to be? When you went and got a good old look at me this afternoon?” He returned his attention to the underpants, yanking them free at last. “How disingenuous.”

“I just want you to work for it.”

Hancock lifted his brows in mock scepticism. “What? One year of sniffing around like a fool wasn’t work enough?” He held the panties suspended by the side strap; swaying lightly on the bridge of his index finger. “These look fucking _awesome_ on you, by the way.” With a wink, he kissed the side of them and then leaned forward so as to tuck them into the rear pocket of his trousers. I sat up, mouth falling in genuine affront.

“Hey!”

“What?” He asked, blinking in that innocent way he kept trying his darndest to make look sincere but just never managed to pull off. “You never keep a souvenir to remember a good time?”

“Guess I should just be grateful you didn’t go and sniff ‘em.” I grumbled, glancing off to the side as I sank down onto my elbows. I could feel the earrings swaying in my lobes and I reached up to unhook them; placing them on the bedside table in the accompaniment of my necklace, once I went and got that unhooked. I didn’t really fancy having them whipping about and potentially getting damaged; not after the appalling amount Hancock had gone and spent on them.

“Please. I’m a gentleman. Kinda.” Hancock smiled gently, leaning down to plant a slow, sensual kiss against my lips; using this as a means to direct my body back into the waiting clutch of the gray sheets. He eased my legs from his shoulders, setting them down against the bed so that the strain along my hamstrings substantially eased. Once certain that I was reposing comfortably, he sat back, poised on his knees and stared down at me. Eased a soft, temperate moan. “Oh man…” Reclaimed that breath, savoured it further for what it offered before letting it out slowly. I looked up at him, tracing my fingers along the space between my breasts. I was worried about sweat accumulating here, which would be a pain if it resulted in black heads or chaffering or any number of other unattractive things those of us with big boobs had to worry about.

“You okay?”

“Yeah… I just…” He flashed what was probably the giddiest smile someone like Hancock could ever manage. For just a second, I could clearly visualize how he had appeared as a star struck teenager; having his first look at a woman’s naked body. “I want ta _look_ at you for a minute. Ya got no idea how long I’ve fantasized about seeing you like this.”

“Lot to live up to.”

“First time my imagination’s been left wanting, darlin’.” He sighed, giving his head a shake as though clearing water from his ears. His eyes looked as though they were tearing up. Pulling himself together, he draped a smile down over me; an all new web of lines branching out across his face. Those connected to a deep, overwhelming degree of emotion. A tremble lay claim to his usually firm lips. “God… you’re beautiful.”

I shifted on the sheets self-consciously. Took note of my stretch marked stomach, the width of my hips, arms and shoulders. All so distinctly unfeminine. Not a wit of daintiness to be found in this firm, round fortification of a body. “You don’t… think I’m too… _big_?”

His smile softened, a small amused huff puffing from the corner of his mouth. “Sweetheart, when are you gonna realize that you see yourself a hell of a lot different as to how the rest of us see you?” He took up my hand, pressed his fingers down between my own. “You’re not too big. You’re gorgeous. All these curves and dips…” Thirst lay claim to his eyes once more, that covetous gaze trailing down my body with an undisguised yearning. “God _damn_ …”

He grabbed my legs again, lifted and bent them back towards my chest. Leaned forward so as to press a kiss to the caps of my knees; lips trailing down over my legs to alight upon the smooth surface of my feet. He kissed the top before gently pushing the toes up, creating a sweet stretch along the sole and kissing the base. Pressed each of my toes down, one at a time in order to pop the air from them. Something he knew full well that I enjoyed. I groaned with each little honeyed crack; feeling both relaxed and contrarily aroused from his attentions. His fingers swept down over my legs and rotated in circles.

“Not all spiky and hairy today, darlin’.”

I bunted him in the chest with the base of my right foot. “Like I said earlier; I shaved my legs.”

He caught my ankle, glancing down and quirking one brow tellingly. “Looks like they’re not the only things that got shaved…”

“Oh geez…” I groaned, holding a hand over my forehead as Hancock lowered my legs and slowly but surely brought them to a part on either side of his waist. I felt the warm night air against me; could practically feel my vagina part like the petals of a flower beneath the suns first light. “John, don’t…”

I worried that the view might have inadvertently reminded him of Marowski’s horrid picture; the cruel one he had taken between my legs. But his expression lent nothing to the pained look he had worn during the day; having returned from the hotel with the bastards’ awful keepsake. The expression he wore instead was what I can only describe as one of the deepest reverence. A strange thing to see whence coupled so closely with desire but a line he nonetheless managed to dance the same. He barely blinked; a smooth expression on his otherwise deeply lined face. Tongue snatching out to fleetingly touch against the corner of his mouth.

“Well, would ya lookie here?” His finger slid neatly over the crease of my vagina; to either side of the small strip of hair that remained. Like a curious child tracing patterns in the sand. “Can’t believe how smooth the skin is… ain’t even any bumps or stubble.”

I smothered a giggle; the tip of his finger lighting upon a bundle of ticklish nerves. “You can thank Meaghan and her wonder wax for that.”

“Seems I’ll be thanking that woman ‘til the day I die.” Hancock muttered, placing his hands to my inside thighs. I think I was quite a bit wet by that stage; there was a spot just there that kept rubbing together and I blushed to think of Hancock having such an uninhibited look at me. One he apparently considered to be lacking in some regard, because he proceeded to draw me further apart; leaning back so as to get a plenty good eyeful of me. “Oh _damn…_ ” He softly groaned, tilting his head back and closing his eyes; as though savouring something heady and visceral. I was stunned by such a reaction; so much that I actually had to stop and think back as to whether I had actually used my hygiene spray before squeezing into my underpants. Perhaps he was reeling from the pungent hot-day vagina sweat smell and was about to topple off of the bed to land in an unconscious bundle on the floor?

“… Um… You okay?” I asked with a nervous titter, wondering if I should go ahead and just anchor him down with my ankles. Hancock lowered his gaze, eyes half lidded and with a sleepy, contended looking smile. In the last hour or so, I swear I had seen him happier than I’d ever known him to be. But this, _this_ was an expression unlike any I had ever before witnessed. Pure unadulterated pleasure.

“Baby, you got no idea how good it feels seeing you like this after just… thinkin’ about it for so long.” A tilt of his head to take in yet another look and then a desire for a shift in scenery. Once more, he elevated my knees; pressed them in against my belly so that my feet dangled. Oh God… a position that left absolutely _nothing_ to the imagination. I could feel the warmth of the room clasp my undercarriage like a hot, clammy hand and might have thought it was Hancock going in for the grope, if his palms hadn’t been firmly sanctioned to my ankles. He leaned into me, mouth parting so that his teeth were on display and released a long, euphoric moan. “ _Jesus…_ you have got… the prettiest damn puss I’ve seen...”

I couldn’t believe there was blood enough to powder a blush to my cheeks but I’m sure I managed all the same. Oh Geez… I never knew what to say when a guy complimented my lady junk. I mean, what exactly constituted a good-looking vagina? Far as I were concerned, they all pretty much resembled some amorphous squid creature scraped from the deepest, darkest trench of the uncharted regions of the ocean with a blunt spatula. And which never stopped looking pissed off about the fact.

“Yeah… so far as dropped corned beef sandwiches go.” I muttered, going with my usual avenue of forcing out a joke to cover my embarrassment. Hancock, bless his heart, wasn’t so invested in playing the game the way it was ‘supposed to be played’ that he couldn’t have a laugh and spent a few moments doing his utmost to fight back a choking tide of chuckles.

“Well, you sure know how ta go and ruin a moment, Munch.” He said, smirking as he released my legs and swung himself up off of the bed. His face took on a sultry sort of look as he started untying the knot in his sash; sending another little flush of excitement racing through me. “Think I might just have the remedy for that, though.”

“Sugar helps the medicine go down?” I said with a slow wink. He broke apart the knot in the flag with a jerk of his hands; shooting me a look of overexaggerated offense as he unlooped it from about his waist.

“Hey, you trying to suggest I’m a cup of gross tasting cough syrup or something?” He cracked, grinning as he snapped the tail end of the sash so that it left a stinging mark on my hip. I grabbed a handful of the material, near tugging him off of his feet in the ensuing struggle; succeeding finally in relieving it from him. With a laugh, I unfurled it, revealing the entirety of the flag, which I attempted to drape about myself in what I supposed might have passed for a sexy way. Veiling just one of my breasts, passing a slip down between my thighs and leaving but a mere triangle of flesh visible. Bringing my right leg over so that I could perch and pose with my weight balanced on my hip. I felt a might silly but Hancock’s smile was jubilant and he struck the air with his fist; much like a fellow of my time might have done when his football team had won the Super Bowl.

“Man! If _that_ isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen!” He exclaimed, the corner of his pants slipping down to expose the arch of his hip. Not so much as to reveal the lines of his loins unfortunately but it still left me feeling more than a little hot and flustered.

“Is it unpatriotic, do you think?” I wondered, fingering the edge of the flag that lingered over the line of my stomach. Bunching a good wad of it so as to fan off my hot and sweaty chest and face. Hancock scoffed, waving a hand dismissively.

“Well how _could_ it be? What other freedoms could our forefathers have been fighting for if not this?”

Apparently deciding that his question required nothing in the way of dispute, Hancock continued on with his disrobement; first unbuttoning, then unzipping the fly of his pants. He yanked them clean down his legs, doing that ungainly standing stomp thing in an attempt to free his feet from the base of them. I felt a sharp pang echo along the cords of my heart, to see that leg brace digging cruelly into his thigh and lower leg. Having succeeded in shaking himself free of the possessive grip of his trouser legs, Hancock bent at the waist with an uncomfortable sounding grunt; attempting to unhook the buckles from about his thigh. No doubt his fingers were pained from the swelling which typically occurred of an evening because he was visibly struggling, some of the buckles snapping back to catch the tips of his fingers like vindictive mouse traps. It was enough to wrest me from the comfort of the bed and I tugged the flag free, sliding my feet down onto the floating floor.

“Here. Let me.”

Not waiting for a reply, I lowered myself to my knees in front of him, setting my hands to work on the buckles that held the contraption pinched about his thigh. Rather than argue, Hancock acquiesced with a small and grateful smile; straightening up so as to allow me space in which to work.

“Cheers, Munch.” He said. I nodded, pretending as though I wasn’t painfully aware of his stout and proud erection; perched above my nose and currently directing its attention slightly off centre of his bellybutton. Christ… guy was as hard as a fucking oak tree. I’d be feeling every last damn inch of him _that’s_ for sure.

I returned my attention to Hancock’s leg, eyes tearing over slightly as I worked my way along the myriad of seemingly never-ending buckles. “Are you in much pain, still?”

“A little. Still gettin’ used to the plate.” Off of my confused look, he reached down and patted his fingers to a long, white scar situated on his left hip. “Doc inserted it to repair the break. Whole bunch of pins in there and a few more down where I got the break in my shin.”

“Can you feel them when you walk?” I asked, loosening the components of the thigh support and working my way along those of the lower leg. Hancock sighed, fingers drumming aimlessly at the air to either side of my bowed head.

“Can feel ‘em most of the time. Better than it was though.”

I unhooked the last buckle and wound the brace from Hancock’s shin, casting it off to the side where it landed with a cacophonous clanking of jangling metal parts. His poor leg bore the remnants of its torturous grasp; skin rubbed red raw in places, indentations having dug so deep that the skin had split beneath the edge of the leather lining it. I rubbed my hand up and down the length of his leg, scratching at the still healing scars with my nails. Wondered just how many titanium pins were hiding just out of sight there beneath his flesh. Binding the once shattered fragments of his bones back together.

“There you go. Footloose and fancy free.” I said, smiling as Hancock tilted his head back in the expected response of pure, unbridled contentment. This was a man who loved to be touched; caressed, massaged, scratched… A flesh merchant, as my mother had once said.

“Ahh… feels so good, love…” He murmured, rolling his head about on a neck that suddenly seemed ill suited to support it. I rubbed my hand up over his hip, slipped my palms back and caressed that tight little ass of his. Scratched the old, still healing welts present on each of his cheeks; eliciting another soft, tremulous moan from my soon to be lover. Encouragement enough to bring one hand back to the front; caressing the firm column of his inside thighs. Squeezing the taut muscle before drifting my hand up to gently cup and fondle the sac of his balls.

Hancock groaned stiffly, longingly. I looked up to see his eyes on mine; such an earnest expression, silently appealing to me for that which he had been so deprived for so very long. “Eve…” He murmured, his trembling fingers dancing a line across my cheek; quavering on the curve of my chin. Unable to find purchase. His longing was too great. He liberally shivered for want of the attentions espoused only by virtue of my lips.

Giving no verbal reply (for what reason could it possibly serve?) I leaned in, placing a kiss against the upturned base of his penis before using my lips to ‘nibble’ up the underside of it. I paused briefly when I reached the glistening tip, wrapping my mouth around it so as to deliver a full-bodied kiss before dipping my tongue into the slit; a taste of salt lighting upon my tastebuds.

As Hancock’s quivering hand slipped into the hair on the back of my head, I dropped my mouth down over his erection; giving a good hard suck that brought him, groaningly, to the very tips of his toes. I used the underside of my tongue to rub over the head, burnishing his inside thigh with one hand and using my thumb to massage the groin; hoping to alight on some of those sweet nerves, such as he had found in me earlier. With my remaining hand, I squeezed and lightly scratched the lower curves of his bottom; a part of him that I couldn’t quite seem to get enough of. So nice and firm and gropeable… I felt about as tempted as he had to spin him around and give him a good old love bite to the cheek. But I had the feeling that he was enjoying my mouth precisely where it was and damned if I was going to go and ruin that for him.

I didn’t take him all into my mouth; preferring not to choke myself such as I had down earlier in the day. I kept my lips firm and the suction consistent; bobbing my head and using my tongue to stimulate where I felt appropriate. There was the taste of soap again; evidence more that he had given himself a nice old proper clean before our date tonight. The tang and salt of sweat. And that other taste… pre-cum. From where he was leaking in his desire to lay claim to me.

Hancock shifted a little, dropping his weight onto his right hip. “Eve… my uh… my leg isn’t good at the best of times… but with you doing that…” He growled softly as I, being the cruel person I was, swirled my tongue firmly about the shaft of his cock before giving another steady series of sucks. “M-mind if I uh… sit down?”

I chuckled softly around my mouthful; amused to hear the eternally poised and confident John Hancock stutter out his words. Took some mercy however, by waving my hand impatiently back towards the bed, before returning it to the firm arch of his inside thigh.

“Knock yourself out.” My voice was muffled somewhat due to obvious reasons but he interpreted my meaning just fine. He sighed with relief and proceeded to then awkwardly penguin shuffle about, so that it was his back to the bed rather than my own. I in turn, did my best to keep my mouth gripped stalwartly about his erection; hindering his progress with mean little licks and prods to the split in the head. It near bent Hancock in two and he alternated between gasping, moaning and then snorting with laughter. He hurled down curses at me, quite as liberally as he bleated his approval and groaned my name towards the ceiling. The floating floor was hard on my knees but I persisted with it, edging along inch by gradual inch, until Hancock was at long last, able to perch himself on the side of the bed.

He sank down into it with a palpable grunt of gratitude; opening his legs just a little further and resting his weight back on one hand. I took his thighs in my palm, pushed my mouth over him a little deeper. He touched the back of my throat and I dared not risk evoking my gag reflex again; especially not whence you considered how much I had to drink. His fingers gently twined the hair on the back of my head; a tender act that nonetheless ensured my complicity in continuing the act. His eyes simmered to within the depths of my own, half lidded and voice quite as breathless as I’m sure I’d ever heard it.

“Thanks…” He gasped, huffing a few fervent breaths as his fingers bunched and scrunched a good helping of my hair. A smile peaked upon his lips. “It’s funny… even though I’m sitting here, watching you do this…” His words terminated into a shuddering, breathless gasp as I slid my index finger and thumb about the base of his penis; forming a tight ring. A trick I learned, which exponentially increased the intensity of orgasm; so long as you didn’t go and press too hard. “– _f-feeling_ you do it… I still find it hard to believe it’s actually happening…”

I’m certain the vibrations caused by my laughter would have felt more the pleasurable to him as well. I took my mouth away, leaning back so that I could cast my smile up into his face; reassuring that strange, myopic part of him that remained utterly convinced of his skins supposed dreadfulness.

“Believe it.” I said, leaning back in and slowly licking up the length of his dick as though I were savouring an icy-pop on a blistering hot summers day. He pinched his teeth together, growling as I swirled the underside of my tongue about the engorged head before swallowing his entire length back inside of my mouth. The sensation was enough to send his head tilting dramatically back upon his neck; to project his voice towards the plaster splotched ceiling. I said, with my voice once again muffled by the presence possessing my mouth: “What more would it take to convince you?”

Hancock, panting, upper torso flexing with heaving breaths, nonetheless managed to flash that sassy smirk of his. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

I snorted a laugh out my nose, slapping a hand firmly to his inside thigh in rebuke. Continued sucking him off however, which was rather more than he deserved; palming his pale inside thighs, loins and even reaching down to trail my fingernails along the backs of his calves. My other hand I kept flexed against the base of his penis; applying pressure by loosening and then resuming the grip so that blood could rush dramatically to the tip before being choked off again. His breathing was noticeably hastening; chest rising and falling with dramatic bucks as the hair in my hand tightened. His soft entreaties, the shallow rolls of his pelvis… they all suggested to me that he was so very close to coming. _How good would it feel to him?_ I thought, glancing up in an attempt to lock eyes with him. All I could see was the underside of his chin; his head tilted so far back on his neck that the only thing he was seeing was the flickering fairy lights spun across the ceiling.

“Oh… _fuck… Ah…_ ”

From the sound of his voice, I thought he might very well have permitted himself his climax and was just figuring out how I was going to deal with it (I didn’t swallow due to the fact that I found the taste completely unpalatable) when he instead reached down and slid both hands neatly under my arms. My lips broke from him as he tugged upward, insistently and I abetted by lifting myself to my feet. He pulled me in, divesting short, heated breaths as he divided my legs to either side of his body.

“Come here, love… come on.” He whispered, our arms going about one another and lips meeting in our fiercest kiss yet. My knees pressed down into the soft mattress of the bed and I felt his weight pressing his cock down flat against his thighs. Desire took precedence over performance at that stage and I went with the natural flow, wanting to feel him as one with me so intensely that nothing else mattered.

I used my knees to lift myself, breasts sliding up his chest and closer to his neck. It was a good distraction and he cared little for what I was doing; occupied with his claimant to each of my nipples with a very hot wet mouth. His penis swung up, though I kept myself low so as to prevent it from slapping back against his stomach. I lifted myself infinitesimally higher; eyes closing to the feel of Hancock’s tongue sliding up slowly over my left breast; the head of his erection now poking me. He would be feeling just how wet I was. How ready. I sank down a steady fraction; using all the muscles in my core and my thighs to keep myself suspended, allowing just the tip of his heat to penetrate the lips of my vagina.

His fingers suddenly bunched and flexed against my back and I stared down into his face; at his eyes slammed tightly shut, his mouth hanging open. He seemed to be fighting a battle of monumental proportions; desperate to just dispense with it all and drop me down to devour that big, voracious length of his but compelled still by an even greater hunger. One that his desire to sate could no sooner be denied than a Brotherhood’s inherent need to condemn anything that had the whiff of _Eu Du Radiation_ dabbed about its mutated ears.

Hancock’s trembling thumbs hooked beneath my arms and he lifted me with a thick moan; body trembling with restraint. At least, I hope it was restraint and not the fact that I weighed as much as a baby Elephant seal.

“No, no… not yet, darlin’.” He mumbled, sweat dripping along his brow as he stretched up to press a comforting kiss to my lips. He adjusted himself, ensuring that his erection now rested safely between us and not up beneath my body. I could feel the thick column pressing against our stomachs as we meet in the middle and it flushed me with pleasure to know that he was this big and this hard because of me. Something I could never have imagined being possible when I had first met the man. In spite of being a Ghoul, Hancock’s was the type of personality that simply hadn’t been available to a girl like me in the past. Far too cool, far too confident. Physical pleasure aside, to be the recipient of his attentions was incredibly flattering.

With a quick kiss and lick to the scar on my chin, Hancock now twisted to the side; bringing me with him as he rolled so that he, for once, was now on top. We wrapped around one another so completely; rubbing, touching and squirming. Enjoying immensely the feel of our bare skin coming together that very first time. We were both equally slick with sweat and Hancock broke our kiss long enough to lap the trailing trickles from my neck, chest and breasts; pulling and sucking on my nipples as he had the opportunity. The connection between our mouths was promptly re-established and I felt myself whimper softly, winding my legs about Hancock’s waist; wanting to pull myself as tightly to him as possible. His hand cupped the cheek of my ass; lifting the trajectory of my leg even higher, so that the heel of my foot came to rest upon his upper back. I felt that hand drift across and then up. He stroked gently with the firm, rough pads of his fingers; evoking a soft, yearning moan from me. Oh God… too long since anyone had touched me there. I thought I’d fall apart for how profoundly I was now aching.

His lips slid down to rest against my ear. He whispered softly, voice bespoke that of richest desire and tenderly disquieted love. “Can I…?”

It was without hesitation that I granted my consent. Nodding as I pressed my lips to the burn mark on his chest. Desperate for this dreadful ache to be appeased.

“Yeah…”

His thin, yet uniquely dexterous lips plied their path to the column of my throat and kissed me; pressing his face then to the side of my head as one long, rigid finger eased its way up inside of. I groaned and loosed then a low, satisfied sigh; a smile of pleasure forming unbidden upon my face. Oh _yes…_ Oh I’d forgotten how good it felt… and just how easy and natural it came with Hancock. His finger felt so firm and rigid up inside of me; the knuckle flexing against the walls of my vagina as he adjusted his arm so as to rest it more comfortably. It seemed an important moment, this one; for him to have finally broached this level of intimacy with me. To have penetrated me this first time; to touch and feel the most intimate channel of my body. We were coming together in our way that our hearts and our souls had long since achieved but for which our physical presences were only just catching up.

The totality of my expression must have been sign enough for Hancock to push forward and he moved that finger swiftly in and out; my body parting for him with an ease that might have been embarrassing if I wasn’t dedicating all my run time to feeling good. He added a little rotation as he went, spinning the finger about so that twisted like a corkscrew up inside of me. I groaned for the friction this caused, lifting my leg higher and reaching down to grasp about his wrist.

“You can… go faster…” I puffed, attempting to guide his wrist into a hastened plunging movement that would meet the rhythm that I much preferred to that of a more temperate, sedate one. Hancock looked into my eyes from less than an inch away. His own reverberated with a profligate sense of concern that simply had no place intruding on this moment.

“I don’t want to hurt ya…”

I quirked my brow, to demonstrate precisely what I thought of his apprehension. Laughed and then gently trailed my fingers down either side of his strong, neat chin.

“I’m not a piece of Lalique, you know.” I whispered, lifting my head and pressing my lips to the flesh aproning the shell of his ear. “ _Yours_ is the touch I’ve been _wanting_ to feel, my darling. Please don’t hold back. Don’t I deserve as much as any other girl you’ve ever been with?”

The smile he returned was one of slight, yet articulate sadness. “Any other girl I probably wouldn’t have _asked_ the question.” A brush of his rosy lips against my own before then leaning back, his finger sliding out of me and joining another in the equally wet cavern of his mouth. He gave them a few sucks, lubricated the one that wasn’t already slippery from its interment within my body, before bringing both back down and under my leg once more. His eyes soldered to mine; impeaching. “You just say the word if-”

Frustrated, despairing for the aching throb within me to be extinguished; I grabbed Hancock firm by the back of his neck. Gave him a good, blazing look as my other hand trailed between us and stroked the firm length of his dick. Twirled my thumb about the still damp head.

“John Hancock, you stop that fussing right this minute and start goddamn _fucking me._ ”

It was the green light he had been waiting on and thank the Lord he decided not to waste a second further on speculation. Instead, with a smile and yet another kiss to my likely bruised and swollen lips, he slid both fingers up inside; his rhythm a little rougher than that which preceded it. Twisting and rotating with each protrusion, increasing the speed and strength to the point that I felt myself shifting upon the bed; ass rubbing against sheets that were most _definitely_ going to be in need of a cleaning when all was said and done.

I brought the back of my hand to my forehead with a groan, the feeling of being stretched and prodded so utterly sublime I could do precious little but surrender to the sensation. It had been so long since I had felt something such as this; the intensity of pleasure one that had been historic even before Nate had disappeared from my world. That initial discovering of carnality, of exposing a dimension of a person you had never before cause to see. To feel and experience Hancock such as this was as intensely sexy in the context of emotion as it was with physical sensation. And in the year or so that I had desisted from entering into a sexual relationship with others, my body might has well have reverted itself to the state of virginity I had long since lost. Everything felt so raw and _new._ Even with his saliva as a buffer, I felt a minuscule glance of pain to my innermost sanctum. But such a sweet, effervescent pain, at that.

The stirring still of a small, yet potent bundle of nerves came as some surprise and set my spine to arching; drawing my breasts up and away from Hancock’s body. The night air quickly ensconced them in the balmy grasp of its waiting palms; permitting sweat to trickle down from the underside and form splintering tendrils across the expanse of my stomach.

“Oh… yes… God that feels so _good_ , honey…” I groaned, gasping as the pads of his fingers stirred again that tantalizing little place; sending my toes curling in on themselves until the strain worked its way up through the top of my foot.

Hancock slid his arm around my shoulders, supporting me as he continued his firm, unapologetic fingering motions below. Kissed the upturned column of my throat; leisurely licked the jutting edges of my collarbone before tracing his lips about the underside of my breasts. I did precious other than gasp and pant at the feeling his firm penetrations were providing; a very good sensation of being fucked that was successful in stirring up all the feel-good nerve endings hidden away in my vagina.

I could feel his fingertips continue to grace that lovely sweet spot and soon I was reduced to simply writhing and twisting atop the already tangled bedsheets. Whenever I got a glimpse between my lashes, it was to see Hancock watching me; apparently mesmerized. Perhaps it meant more to him than I could reasonably fathom; to see me in this state rather than having to simply imagine it. He kissed between my breasts, over the arch of my ribcage and down my body. Tongued my navel, freeing his fingers from inside of me and using both hands to push my legs up so that my thighs found themselves pressed to my belly once more. A position he very clearly favoured, for reasons so obvious it would be insulting to convey them.

I looked down at him; making eye contact. Knowing what he was all about. Hancock, seemingly lost in the big old gander he was taking of my vagina, finally caught on to the fact that I was staring at him and winked. He had a giddy, kid like grin on his face and I could barely believe just how much pink had managed to sneak into his cheeks; cheeks I had thought weren’t capable of preserving a blush.

I thought he might say something but words were of little purpose in moments such as these. Rather, he attributed his breath to something of greater import and dropped down to bring his face flush with my vagina. I felt the tickle of him against me and then his spine lifted as he took a good long breath in. If my cheeks weren’t flush before, then they were most certainly on fire now!

“Oh my God, don’t… don’t _smell_ me!” I shrieked, smacking my palm against the back of his bald head. For the good it did, I might as well have just battered him with a feather duster. “I probably _stink_ down there!”

Hancock sighed, lifting his head and smiling dreamily at me; eyes maintained at their near perpetual state of half-mast. “Nah ya don’t, darlin’.” He murmured, lashing a hand out to so as to bring a pillow from the head of the bed down towards us. He urged me to lift my back; so that he could slide it in under my bottom. Smart man. “You go ahead and get comfortable.” He gave an impish waggle of his eyebrows before turning and sinking his mouth down hard against my inside thigh; leaving another blazing hickey in his dust. “I may be some time.”

I rested back against the bed, digging my nails into the sheets. Oh boy, here we go… Time to see if all those rumours about John Hancock and his oratory prowess was in any way true.

I was to find I would be in no way disappointed. Sighing at first as Hancock used his fingers to tenderly part the lips of my labia; clearing the line neatly to my clitoris. A sigh that transfigured itself swiftly into a choked gasp as his lips dropped swiftly down to lay undisputed claim. He offed a contented burr; shoulders arching and rolling as he settled between my legs like a prairie cat on the prowl; one hand remaining draped across my vagina to keep the lips separated. The other pressed to the underside of my knee; supporting me in keeping it pinned neatly up against the line of my stomach.

I gasped, panting softly as Hancock started to suck and then tongue my sweet spot; alternating between those long, delicious licks of pure self-indulgence, to a spattering of lighter, faster dabs. Every so often, he would use his tongue to swirl it about; pausing to exhale a puff of air so as to further stimulate the bundle of susceptible nerves. He would deliver then a firm series of laps; leaving me a writhing victim beneath the relentless, sensual onslaught. Ever so aware of that insistent, tickling itch that was rising up inside of me; wanting nothing more than to boil on over and leave me a twitching, gibbering mess on the sweat stained sheets.

Hancock eventually brought his other hand down and, after pausing long enough to meet my eyes, started to sink his fingers inside of me again. He alternated this; occasionally abandoning his oral stimulation of my clitoris in order to slip his tongue up and work the inner channels. I felt him espouse a kiss to my vulva, sucking gently as though supping nourishment from my wetness and flicked the tip of his tongue in and out with a darting rapidity that sent my pulse skyrocketing. That tingling itch worked its way higher still; tightening the muscles through the backs of my legs and causing sweet, reflexive twitches in my abdomen.

“John… John just, _here_ …” I slid my hand down, pressing my fingertip to my clitoris and swirling it about quickly. Desperate to prevent that fey offer of climax from slipping back whence it came. “Please… with your tongue. Nice and quick.”

He was a dutiful partner I learned and always ready and eager to please. Lifting his head immediately in response to my summons, he promptly buried it back between my thighs and tongued to my clitoris as instructed. Panting, I pressed my hand to the back of his head to keep his mouth nice and firm against me. My other hand clutching the bedsheets in a tight fist and then pressing back through tangled strands of my hair; whimpering and pressing my lips together as the wonderful, terrible wave of my orgasm edged closer. God, it had been so long… so very long since I had felt something as purely good as this. I wanted so badly to be able to come; often unable to achieve climax at all during sex.

But Hancock seemed to be pushing all the right buttons. The sight of this man I had once taken to be so bizarre in appearance, so intimidating and now buried between my thighs and practically purring his pleasure like a decorously oiled car engine… it stirred something in me. Something I couldn’t quite describe but it felt akin to… danger, maybe? A strange and terrible facet of character I had always been deeply attracted to. The fact that he and I had been friends so long didn’t hurt terribly either. It felt a sort of taboo… to succumb to this act.

The tightness in my groin grew more the insistent. My thoughts provocative enough, never mind the sight of his mouth and tongue moving against me. Licking, lolling… I could see the vein lines on the underside as it twisted slightly in its rotation… Sliding up to push apart the lips of my cunt, before lancing off to the right and slipping back down to curl about the plump, fleshy bead of my querulous clit…

Pleasure spiked sharply through me and I dropped my head back; pressed it to the sheets and squirmed. My feet flexed and twitched in mid-air as tiny bolts raced up and down my body; alighting beneath my skin in places unexpected, unprecedented. I rolled my hips up against his face and he reciprocated; pulling me in firmer to the waiting grasp of his mouth. Insinuated his first and middle fingers up inside of me, with an urgency that suggested he too felt my point of convergence draw so very near.

“Oh God… oh God, so _close…_ ” My soft insurgences coupled with the urgent caresses of my hand to the crown of his head. “John, don’t stop… don’t _stop…_ ”

Though he hadn’t perhaps taken a decent breath in the past fifteen or so minutes, Hancock maintained his generous pace; elevating my hip so as to reach down and sooth his palm upon the shaft of his erection. He kept me there, suspended directly upon the metaphorical edge; that perfect, sensitive zone just prior to orgasm where the sensations hit their peak. I gave myself over to the soft gasps and moans I’d been conscious about earlier permitting. Hancock I’m sure, would have savoured them; just so much as he savoured all things visceral.

My exhalations came hard and unfettered; responding exclusively to the finite tweaks of pleasure that pitched within my aching, pulsing core. God knows how utterly silly my face looked right about now; Nate said I had one of the dopiest ‘O’ faces he had ever seen, which isn’t the greatest compliment a husband can bestow upon their wife. I could care little for appearances at that juncture however, trying simply to keep myself calm and relaxed. Focusing too much on reaching climax was a sure fire means to scare it off.

I needn’t have concerned myself. Not two moments later, I felt that dreadfully coy little itch come burbling up with an abruptness in its approach that completely shocked the life out of me. It hit the peak, boiled over and struck my body into a pleasured rictus; forcing my lips apart, pinning my eyelids back and sending shivers cascading down through my legs. Contractions fluttered through my vaginal muscles; beating and flexing like a heartbeat long stilled, now coaxed back to life. My fingers gripped the sheets and tightened, toes curling and pinching about themselves. I moaned for broke, pushing myself further still to Hancock’s face; tears beading on the edges of my lashes. Restraint brokered by this divine sensation; my extremities the warmer for what blood rushed and traversed the hair thin rivulets of my body.  

Hancock was sucking delicately at the lips of my vulva; partaking perhaps of that extra drop of wetness whence orgasm wrought. I could feel the subtle movements of his lips against my tender aperture, the way in which they came together so as to permit him to swallow and imbibe. I thought perhaps he might wile away his time down there further but it was with some surprise that he seceded my expectations and broke from me with a purposeful look betwixt his dark eyes.

As my orgasm rode itself through those final few but no less appreciated compressions, Hancock slid himself up between my legs; so as to press a kiss to my still gaping mouth. Furthermore, to instil the entire length of his jutting erection inside of me; the force of which temporarily suspended my hips and evoked yet another wave from the fading ripples to which my climax had been fast evaporating. I cried out, because he was of course big and long and very, very hard. Such was his desire to have his way with me, I shouldn’t have expected anything less. It had surprised me, yes but had felt so intensely good. He moaned along with me; not just for the feeling of being inside of me this first time I imagine but to also feel my vagina flutter and squeeze about him as my climax carried itself through yet another spectacular peak. All for want of feeling him thrust inside of me so unexpectedly.

I clutched my fingernails to his spine, digging those of my remaining hand into his bottom; pushing him in deeper. I was very relieved to find that even though Hancock himself was prolifically endowed, it reminded me nothing of that dreadful night with Marowski. Didn’t hurt that I was wet as a thunderstorm. Hancock hadn’t encountered much in the way of resistance.

He stared down at me, keeping very still. Perhaps like me, he was savouring this feeling of our being joined this first time. He felt very big inside of me and very impatient. Yet still, he suspended that infinitesimal moment further; face creased with an emotion quite unfamiliar to that which I might readily associate to Hancock. Sublime, radiant happiness. Vulnerability. Eyes glazed over with the passing sheen of tears.

I pulled him to me, wrapped an arm around his neck and claimed his mouth in a trembling kiss. Pulled our chests in tight, so that the entire length of our bodies touched together; that sensation he had so long been remiss. That which he deserved so much more than any man I had ever met.

“I love you…” I murmured, lending the brush of my lips to the lids of his eyes, the apex of his nasal cavity. “I love you so much…”

“I love you…” His kisses found their marks upon my cheeks, my forehead, the scar on my chin. He moaned long and low, sinking his face down over my shoulder to press to the twisted sheet beneath me. His body jerked with a series of not so successfully muted chuckles. “Oh God… feels so _good_ to be inside you...”

I smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek and trailing my hand up from his bottom, to caress the scars of his back. He arched to the touch; his groan vibrating through his chest and into the cavern of my own. “Welcome aboard.”

He panted softly, looked purposefully into my eyes. Kept himself suspended above and within me with immeasurable restraint. “You okay?”

I lifted my brow at him and softly laughed. “Isn’t that up to _you_ to determine?” I squeezed the muscles in my vagina tightly and he groaned, thrusting back in eager response. He swung swiftly to perch upon his knees, pausing a moment to take in the sight of his penis impaling me and moaned deeply in testament to how profoundly the image affected him.

He started moving now in earnest; taking hold of my legs and elevating them to rest against his broad shoulders. A position I found to be absolutely exquisite; for how deep he could penetrate and for just how perfectly he was able to strike those gorgeous bundles of nerves up inside of me. He was just the right side of big; filling me up and causing the slightest pinch of ever so saccharine pain. Just the means to remind me of the fact that I was being thoroughly, punitively claimed by him at long last. A fact that made me feel quite as dizzy as he himself had appeared moments earlier.

His rhythm too suited me; he fucked hard and quick and penetrated well and deep. My nerve endings accepted the harder, renewed battering and soon both he and I were moaning in exalted tandem; Hancock grasping both my ass cheeks and lifting them off of the bed so as to get down even further inside of me. His pelvis exposited loud slapping noises as it connected with my body and I felt a great deal of moisture accumulating between us; most of it leaking down over the curves of my ass and spattering to Hancock’s upper thighs as they smacked against me.

It was just as his movement hit a lusciously firm and flurried pace, that Hancock suddenly cried out; eyes flinching shut with what was quite obviously pain, rather than pleasure.

“Agh… _shit!_ ” He cursed, puffing air in and out through his nasal cavity sharply before lowering my legs down quickly to rest to either side of him. He bent over towards his left hip; pressing a hand firmly to it and sucking and gasping back through his teeth. I sat up, resting my weight on my elbows; all too aware of just what was happening.

“Oh god, your hip… are you okay?”

He spoke from between his clenched teeth; eyes just as tightly wedged together. The pain must have been excruciating. “Damn fucking thing’s… _seized up_!” He pitched forward, catching himself by slamming his hand to the right side of my head; fingers digging into the bed sheets as another wave of pain stabbed through him.  “Fuck! Talk about shitty timing… was feelin’ so damn good…”

I chewed my lip, rolling my hips and nursing the still present length of his erection inside of myself. It _had_ been feeling so damn good, and I wasn’t exactly keen on throwing in the towel just yet. Hancock obviously wasn’t but that fucking injury of his was only going to keep giving him shit if we attempted to continue on as such.

After a moments rumination, I happened upon an intermediary strategy and reached up; wrapping my arms firmly about his sweaty midsection. Pecked my lips to the streaky, pock marked stretch of his forehead.

“I have an idea. Lay down on top of me, hon.”

It would certainly have been easier than keeping himself suspended and Hancock was quick to oblige, stretching himself out on top of me with a disquieted groan. I kept my arms and legs pinned tightly about him, penis pinched just as firmly by the walls of my vagina and then used what strength I possessed to push over towards the left side of my body.

“Okay… just go with me now…”

He moaned softly to feel himself moved in such a way; the pain from his hip competing with the feel of being safely ensconced within my cunt. I rolled him over until he was able to comfortably recline on his back; with me straddling his waist. He didn’t look the least displeased for the view he now had, whilst I on the other hand felt a little self-conscious about him seeing every imperfect, dimpled, jiggly inch of me. Not as concerned as I might have been if I’d been completely sober, but there you go. God bless a good old fluffy duck.

I pressed my hand to Hancock’s wounded hip; gently rubbing against the bone that had once been so atrociously shattered. “Do you need some pain relief?”

Hissing again from between the gaps in his teeth, Hancock naturally gave a nodding jerk of his head and jabbed his thumb towards the bathroom. As if the man would be expected to turn down pain relief when offered.

“Got some Med-X in the cupboard…”

“I’ll be right back.” I carefully lifted myself, the both of us emitting tepid moans as his penis slid neatly out from inside of me and dropped down to slap to his stomach with all the grace of a dying fish tossed to the wooden boards of a seaside dock. Feeling suddenly very empty (and very aware of the moisture trickling down my thighs) I scampered for the bathroom as quickly as I was able; trying to keep every muscle in my body as tight and as taut as possible. The end result most likely resembled a person in whom a long stick had been rectally inserted but with any luck, the dim candlelight should ease the rough edges off of dimply butt fat and spare tires alike.

“Though a view like this one ain’t half bad medicine…” Hancock remarked from behind me and I turned, blowing a raspberry over my shoulder before giving a jaunty little wiggle of my ass as I went. Why I ever need concern myself with Hancock’s appraisal’s I don’t wonder. Guy clearly saw me in a favourable light, and it was high time I started enjoying it; rather than holding onto outdated and tasteless insecurities.

I switched the light on in the bathroom and swung open the wall mirror; finding amongst other things, the syringe of Med-X Hancock had mentioned. Without further fluffing about, I brought it promptly to the sitting area; where Hancock reposed on the bed, like a sad, dejected soldier. It was hard to know which sight was sadder; him or his plainly unsatisfied and plaintively resentful penis. Still noticeably candy striped with white fluid; lubrication from within my own body. Oh yuck.

I climbed onto the bed, Hancock flashing an appreciative smile as I settled onto my knees at his side. Went to hand the syringe to him. “In the arm…?”

I was surprised by the rather firm, hormonal look he directed up at me. His voice possessing an edge of demand he not often, if ever, directed at me.

“You do it. Put it in my ass.”

My mouth dropped for a moment and then I was snorting with laughter. “You want me to… put it in your _ass_?”

He pulled a face. “Yeah, I know. Didn’t think about it until after I’d finished saying it. I meant, give me the injection in the ass.” He rolled his hip as much to the side as he was able, reaching about to slap a palm to the pert cheek of his butt. “Right here.”

I wavered on this one; not the least comfortable with needles as he well knew. “Geez… I don’t know, I…” But then I interpreted his look; that pleading, equally desirous expression. “Oh… I get it. That’d really sort of work for you, right?”

He smirked up at me and winked. “More than you know, baby-girl.”

“The things we do for love.” I said with a sigh, prepping the needle and taking off the plastic cap. I helped rotate Hancock so that he was resting on his side, slapping his bare ass cheek a few, solid times. “Right. Delivery point prepped… here we go.”

I inserted the point of the needle deep in to the muscle of his glute, flinching as it went in. Hot prickles galloped up beneath my arms and lay siege further still to the soles of my feet. Hancock however, groaned with pleasure; legs rubbing together as I slowly injected the Chem. Sick old Junkie making me complicit in getting his pinch. If I didn’t love the dickens out of him, I would have petulantly stormed my way from the room; taking his sash with me for good measure.

When the last of the fluid had been painstakingly syringed into his system, I capped the needle and placed it on the bedside table; assisting Hancock with rolling onto his back once more.

“You’re a sicko.” I whispered, tracing my fingers around his lips before then clucking them to the swell of his smirking cheek.

“I’m _your_ sicko.” He amended, running his fingers down over my midsection, before trailing them up again. Sighed wistfully. “Shouldn’t take too long for the shit to kick in. Then we can get back to business…”

I cocked my head, honestly surprised by his uncharacteristic lack of imagination. “Well, who said we had to wait?” I posited, watching Hancock’s eyes widen as I climbed back aboard, legs to either side of his narrow waist. I reached down and took a firm hold of his penis; gave it a few good, hard strokes to ensure it remained ready and at attention. Yuck… all that muck I’d left all over it. “Remember that couple we were watching at the _Cavellian Club?_ How you wished it was us…?”  

Sensing my meaning, Hancock hesitated; breath catching in his throat and fingers dappling the air as though feathering out keystrokes to an invisible typewriter. “Eve, wait a minute… are you sure you – _ugh!_ ”

He dropped his head back, moaning helplessly as I nestled the head of his penis into the lips of my vulva; keeping it suspended just there in the metaphorical shallow end of my body. I reached down, taking his hands in my own. Linking our fingers together, I used his palms as a sort of brace; slowly and carefully dropping myself down onto his waiting erection; groaning to feel that distinctive, dividing stretch. From this angle he filled me so completely I felt I might burst for just how much space he now occupied inside of me. Hancock’s mouth dropped open and his head sank to the side, a passionate moan bursting from between his lips.

“Oh, God… oh god damn, that’s good. Oh God, Eve…”

“Oh… John…” I echoed, lifting his hands and pressing them tight to my breasts; guiding his thumbs across the aching peaks of my nipples. I arched and lifted myself until roughly half his penis came out of me; pausing just a passing moment before dropping back down again. He cried out, issued a half-hearted buck of his hips that made him call out in a whole other way. Devolved back to curses and petulant, childish-sounding complaints.

In amidst my own wave of pleasure, I managed a slight chuckle and caressed the vein lines of his hands; soothing him. Rolled my pelvis forward and back, letting him absorb and savor the feeling of being right there inside of me. Our eyes meeting, sharing a smile to know that here, after all this time we were finally, irrefutably together. What had long meant to transpire had finally come to pass. He clenched my hips between his hands, managed to move his hips with less difficulty this time. Moaned my name. I arched my back; soothed my hair away from my face. Lifted my arms so that they pulled my tits up higher and firmer on my chest. His eyes shone like a pair of sparkling, ebony onyx; transmuting and transforming candlelight…

From the bedside table, his talkie crackled to life.

**~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My God, this chapter… this goddamn excruciating chapter. I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard on anything I’ve written in my entire life! Whether it paid off, who’s to say but it’s here. At long last, the two idiots got around to fucking each other. But of course, what would Eve and Hancock be without the constant little nagging interruptions? ;)
> 
> Just a couple of notes about the above chapter before I sign off and dance my merry way to my much deserved glass of Ruby Pinot. I haven’t marked these points in the story, but I’ll mention them here all the same. 
> 
> 1.) The Protectron in the VIP room: Yep, this was Fisto from Fallout New Vegas. Hell of a retirement plan, huh?
> 
> 2.) Pattie’s reaction to Eve being groped: He’s not so much taking it personally as using it as an opportunity to set an example. After what happened with Marowski, Pattie and the Neighbourhood Watch boys will do all in their power to demonstrate that Eve is not to be fucked with. The louder and more aggressive the demonstration, the better.
> 
> 3.) Hancock’s name: I head canon that Hancock’s full name is ‘Johnathan’ rather than ‘John’. Not sure why. Likely because I think it adds flavor to the sort of person his mother was; who gave him his name originally. The name ‘Francis’ is in reference to my brother; who also has the same middle name. On a sort of related note, Eve’s middle name ‘Anne’ is in commemoration of my mother; who also has the same middle name.
> 
> 4.) Pattie’s dual pistols: Named for the Greek Twins of Trojan legend; Helen and Clytemnestra. Is Pattie into Greek history? Highly unlikely. He most probably saw the names in one of Adrian’s books and thought it sounded cool.
> 
> 5.) Codsworth getting to the apartment: Yes, I do expect you to believe that Codsworth traversed the series of traps and boards because of his unremitting determination to provide unparalleled levels of service to his mistress. General Atomic’s finest!
> 
> 6.) Hancock’s Date book: Yep. Undertale reference. I went for a cheap on.
> 
> Thanks for sticking around folks and sorry it has taken so long to write this chapter. I took a bit of an unprecedented break, travelled around a lot and had to take care of a very sick doggy. Amongst other things. Think I ate a very spicy chicken tandoori pancake at some point… 
> 
> Anyway, things have been wild and hectic. But I admit that I actually enjoyed writing this chapter, for the fact that I actually allowed myself to take my time with it. I hope you guys enjoyed it. I’ll have more for you soon(ish) but in the meantime please leave a comment, or a kudos or any advice or ideas you might be having about the story. I would love to hear your thoughts :)  
>   
> Oh and shout out to my girls El and Cher! Wouldn’t have worked this hard if not for you guys. For all the support and care you have shown to me after all this time, I thank you from the bottom of my black little heart. (Wow, sounds like I’m accepting an Academy Award or some shit. Calm the fact down, Madam). Anyway, you’ve stuck with me, even when I wasn’t putting out and that says a lot! So kudos to you, my extra special ones!  
> And thanks as always to all you wonderful freaky darlings that take the time out of your day to read my little story! In all your walks of life, go in safety and happiness and I look forward to seeing you in the next chapter! Until then and with all my love,
> 
> ~MadamMortis~ xxx ooo


	21. In closing

Closing comments:

Hello to you, my freakiest of darlings! :) 

This is a mean way to do it, but the way I could most readily ensure that the message is seen and not caught up in the mess of the previous chapter update and its enormous tidal front of content.

Having reviewed the completed work and seeing for himself how long this thing appears in its entirety, I have made the decision to close the story at this point and to begin the continuation as a separate story - part one of a series, if you will. I think with the length of the chapters thus far, it's all getting a bit too heavy and convoluted, which can be enormously offputing to potential readers. I think by separating now, at a nice tidy twenty chapters, it will help refresh the tale and breathe new life into it.

My aim in the second part would be to keep the chapters considerably shorter, produce them faster and make the writing crisper and tighter where possible. An easier, faster paced read; if you will.

I do however, leave the possibility of this entirely up to you guys: the readers.

I've loved sharing Collision Principle and its motely assortment of random weirdo's with you guys. I'd love to continue sharing it, but I acknowledge that the story itself takes an enormous amount of work and there are other projects that I can potentially devote my time and energy to. I would prefer for Collision Principle to die a dignified death at the right time, rather than continue to beat it like a dead horse. The feedback I do receive is positive and never would I ever take that for granted. (Ever. You guys are my gems :) But in that vein, I do see a lot more vested interest and support directed at stories on here that are considerably shorter and with significantly less time attributed to their completion then what I devote to CP. (Not to suggestion that the quality is not excellent. This is a consideration for time and effort, as opposed to the nature of the work itself). Which leads me to the conclusion thusly that the story fails to attract interest. 

I'd like to continue working on my skill set (such as it is!) as a so-called writer and feedback is thusly important to help me learn and develop. If this requires that I turn my attention to other projects so as to allow myself to grow, then so be it. I would be sad to leave CP behind, but I also recognize that it is perhaps time to let it go gracefully. I came to this site, first and foremost to write CP and in so doing, work with other aspiring writers and readers towards further developing and adapting my skills. At this time, it is quite honestly hard to get some perspective as to whether or not I am actually any good at what I do. But I also recognize that there are any number of reasons for that and do not begrude a single reader their time and care for my work. 

But that is why I am writing this little Author's Epilogue to you now; such as it is. I am pleased and satisfied with my work. I can rest easy with myself if I were to leave the story here; because I feel I have put in the very best work that I could have possibly offered and never the once compromised the process. That in itself, is reward enough.

But if you guys enjoyed the story and really wish to see it continued, it would be reassurance enough that the work I am putting into it, is most definitely being appreciated. I can justify the time and effort that it will take to continue it. If not, it will be reason and proof enough that it is time for me to move onto other projects. I think this is the best means for me to make peace with the decison going forward.

Thanks to everyone who has taken time to read, review, enjoy and involve yourself in my little story! As to whatever happens next, I'm sure I will be seeing you all in one form or another! Best wishes for all you future endeavours and as always, with all my love

~MadamMortis~ xxx ooo


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